"Do as your mama tells you, darling! It’ll be over soon.”

My father kissed me gently on the forehead before removing the sword from its wall-mount and unsheathing it in one fluid motion. The blade pulsed with a purple glow, illuminating the small living room. As my father opened the door, light poured in along with voices shouting incantations—too much light and noise for three hours after midnight. I could make out screams mingled with incantations. My father winked at me, his crooked smile assuring me everything would be okay.

Name : Ronen Ofyar

Race : Human

Class : Swordsman

Level : 14

He dashed outside of our little house and into the fray of whatever was happening outside. The door slammed shut behind him, pushing all the screams and ruckus out of my safe space.

"Hide Miri. Quick! Up the chimney you go.”

My mother pushed me up the narrow opening above the fireplace and onto the little smoke shelf inside its chimney. My nine-year old body was no match for her adult strength. I had no choice but to huddle on the step.

"Now, you stay there and don’t make a sound. There are some bad people coming, so you need to hide.” Her voice was soft but steady. “Do you understand what I’m telling you, Miri?”

Name : Lorelei Masters

Race : Human

Class : Scout

Level : 12

I nodded timidly. Even though she was half-inside the dark chimney herself and we could barely see each other, I somehow felt that she was staring straight into my eyes. The chimney still had a scent of smokiness but was otherwise clean, since we had not used it for five months.

"I know you’re stressed, darling, but please stop pulling your hair. I’m going out to help your father and our neighbors. You must stay here until we come back.” She brushed a tuft of my red hair to the side, her voice becoming even softer.

"I love you, Miri. Your father loves you. Be someone…” Her voice broke.

I felt her press closer to me, her embrace tighter than ever before and her face wet against mine.

"Be someone you can be proud of,” she whispered.

She let go of me and crouched to exit the chimney. The next thing I heard was the familiar sound of the arrows clinking against each other in her quiver and her footsteps on the wooden floor. A deep sigh. The doorknob. The chaos. The door closing and the click of the lock.

The rough cold stone wall of the chimney was unforgiving and my body was only protected by my thin summer robes. Far worse, however, was the silence my mother left in her wake. It was tortuous. I knew a battle was being waged outside. I’d heard of them in tales and stories but had never seen one. The sounds that had made their way into our home while the door was open lingered in my mind. I thought I could perhaps hear spells being shouted in the street just outside our doorway. I knew the sounds could not seep through the magically enhanced walls of our house, but the quiet and darkness started to play tricks with my mind.

I thought that I heard my mother screaming enchantments to strengthen my father’s sword, but knew this was impossible. Neither of my parents had any magic left. My father’s sword and my mother’s bow were the only two magic items we owned. The Divine had not granted them much to begin with, and they’d used it all during my birth to keep my mother and me alive.

More time passed. More silence

My parents are out there fighting the raiders and thieves. Soon they’ll come back and we will have a grand feast, just like they do in the stories.

Maybe it was because I had no sense of time, or maybe because of the total darkness and absence of sound, but my thoughts started to become dark too. My grimmest thoughts crept up, punching me from the inside, demanding more and more of my attention.

What if my parents are not the heroes of the tale but the casualties? What would two low level warriors be able to accomplish?

I started pulling my hair again.

What if they died? By The Divine… How would my parents stand a chance with such simple weapons, no matter the enchantments, against a raid of battle-spellcasters? If only they hadn’t spent all of their mana to save me.

I was now pulling the hair from my temples, trying to make the pain as sharp as possible. If only I’d already received my mana.

Yes, if I had my mana, I could go out and scare the bad people away with a brilliant light orb spell, just like Amon, the second paragon. Exactly as in the stories.

But the day I would receive my mana was still an eternity away. All I could do was take cover in that little dark and silent hole. All I could do was wait, doing nothing to help. I could do nothing. Nothing but cry.

***

A huge crash jerked me awake from what could have been minutes or even hours of restless sleep. Before I could stop it, a gasp slipped from my lips.

I’m blind.

After a moment of panic, I remembered hiding in the chimney. A second crash echoed through the house as the door was forced open, its knob smashing into the wall with force.

It’s quiet outside. The fighting has stopped.

Whoever broke in didn’t seem to have heard anything. The footsteps were heavy, so obviously not my mother’s, nor were they the familiar footsteps of my father.

Does this mean my parents are… This can’t be… Was the village overrun by the raiders?

But that was unheard of. The bad people never won in the stories. The virtuous folk always triumphed. And there were no more sounds of battle coming from the outside. Unless… unless this was not yet the end.

"Myriam?” I heard a deep male voice ask.

"Myriam, sweetheart, are you here?”

I recognized his voice. It was Ched, the blacksmith who lived next door.

Why did he break down our door? Why wouldn’t he wait for my parents to unlock it?

"Myriam, honey, you can come out now. It’s over.”

The end of the battle didn’t sound like the happily-ever-afters I was used to, but felt more like the once-upon-a-times of stories just beginning. I shifted my feet and the cloth of my trousers pushed some ash off the smoke shelf. The ash fell to the stone floor in minuscule pieces, but loudly enough to draw Ched’s attention to my hiding place.

"There you are, little pumpkin. Come now, it’s all going to be fine,” he said, as he reached into the chimney, barely fitting inside. He clutched me by my waist and pulled me out. “I figured you would be hiding in here somewhere, seeing the door locked.” He spat on his thumb and gently brushed my forehead clean of the ashes.

Name : Ched Mountainheart

Race : Human

Class : Smith of the Major Arcanum

Level : 41

Though his hands were big and rough, his smile was always comforting.

"My parents…” I said, quietly, “Where are they? Why did you break our door?”

"I’m so sorry, pumpkin,” he began, his brows frowning and lips tightening. “Your parents aren’t with us anymore. They’re with The Divine now.”

Something tightened in my chest and a high-pitched ringing filled my ears. Ched continued speaking, but I heard no more of his words. The world around me continued to exist, but I was barely aware of it. I watched as the ground grew further away, realizing that Chad had lifted me up, still talking, and was carrying me out of the house. My parent’s house. My house.

Bright sunlight hit my eyes and the world slowly came back into focus. The scent of burning wood filled my nostrils and I searched the crowded streets for my parents before realizing they would not be there.

They will never be here again.

The thought made my heart ache. Instead, I saw a woman running toward me with a little child in her arms. She swiftly traded the young boy she was holding for me and turned sideways so the sun would not be in my eyes. It was Nessa, Ched’s wife.

Name : Nessa Light

Race : Light Elf

Class : Elementalist

Level : 29

"Myriam. Oh, sweet child… it’s okay,” she said, holding me against her hip with one hand and untangling my hair with the other. “Everything is going to be fine. You’re with us now.”

As she hugged me close, my gaze finally focused above her shoulder and I noticed wisps of white smoke coming from partially destroyed houses. The raiders must have been strong if they had managed to ruin some of our enchanted homes. Charred spots marked the walls and the ground, several of them the shape of humans. Some of our people had been obliterated where they stood.

A giant dark marble pillar rose from where the temple had once stood, seemingly staked to the ground at an angle, and cast a jagged shadow across the street. It glistened under the sun’s light and it looked wet on its sides, as if something had melted on top of it.