Ash upon ash, upon ash, upon ash, upon ash, upon ash, upon ash, upon rubble.
Death left to right.
Men, women, children, soldiers, pets, beasts, everything.
Nothing left alive.
Only in the distance near Duldera were tents that showed signs of life.
The smell was horrible, the warmth of the last few weeks making the bodies rot faster.
Blanc's dinner was long gone by this point.
He felt sick.
Yet he did not stop praying since he had seen the destruction.
Was his family safe? What in Vita's name happened here?
As he prayed, he kept walking towards the only place he truly knew.
His home.
Or what was left of it, at least.
The trees his mother planted were burned.
The gardens behind the mansion were ruined.
The protective fence that surrounded the estate, broken or on the ground.
The defensive measures made around the estate before the Iron Line arrived were not even worth mentioning.
The destruction around the estate made it seem like they never were there to begin with.
And the mansion itself. A mansion rivaling even castles. Reduced to nothing but ash, smoke, and rubble.
Nothing looked the same.
His eyes did not recognize a single stone or thing that was once part of the mansion.
But he was not looking for his memories now. He was looking for his family.
Yet there were no signs of them.
No obvious signs to make it known they were there.
As the destruction from that side matched the destruction from this side.
The dead were not them either.
He looked, turning corpse after corpse, praying that every time he did so, he would not see a face he loved.
But such prayers are a fool's dream when people are at war. As he soon found out when he began searching through the middle parts of the ruins.
There he saw, not a family member, but a familiar face he cared for nonetheless.
His breathing stopped, seeing the old man's body.
"Oh no… Drew," whispered Blanc as he rushed towards him.
Then he saw the rest of Drew's family.
His sons were dead next to him, all either stabbed or half-covered by the rubble.
Blanc checked, hoping that at least one of them survived, but none did.
Then he saw Beyanna, Drew's wife. She stood dead on her belly, with at least stab wounds on her back, and with her arm as if reaching out to something while she was still alive and struggling.
Blanc saw what she was reaching for with all her might. And he hoped she did not.
Beyanna's and Drew's daughters were lying dead. Their clothes ripped to shreds, half-naked, and with dried tears in their eyes.
The fucking bastards raped them, then cut their throats to be done with them.
Why?
Why do such a thing to a human being? All of them were without fault. I even played with them as a child. They were kind. Sweet. And now? Look what remains of their kindness.
Look what the bastards did to them.
"I'm sorry, Drew. I'm sorry, Beyanna. I'm sorry, everyone. We have failed you," Blanc whispered, going to his knees and placing his head to the ground next to their bodies.
He stood there, crying, apologizing, getting lost in the memories he had with all of them. Trying to remember their faces, their smiles, and hoping he would never forget them.
Hoping that he will remember his kindness for his entire life. And hoping that once he gets stronger, he will be able to give them the revenge they deserve.
Someone was approaching. But Blanc did not care.
He did not care who or what it was until he heard the swords being unsheathed.
Only then did he try to calm down.
Only then did he allow himself to get angry.
He raised his head, watching the two.
Iron Line soldiers.
He did not blink.
He stared.
Letting the feeling that bubbled inside fill the already full glass of water that was inside his head.
And while watching the two, he grabbed an arrow in his hand and began rushing towards them.
They did not even realize he was coming.
They were too slow.
Blanc ran behind the younger-looking soldier and placed the arrow into the back of his neck with all his might.
The arrow entered with ease and stopped midway through the man's mouth.
Another arrow, this one from above, sent him on his way, as Blanc stabbed it into his brain so deeply that the man's eyes just turned backwards, and his body fell to the ground with a thud.
Blanc was ready with the next arrow, but the older-looking man was frozen, his hand trembling on his sheathed sword as he watched his friend's lifeless body bleed out on the rubble.
"P-p-please, d-don't kill me…" said the man, dropping the sword to the ground and instinctively taking a step back.
Blanc was in front of him the next moment, mere inches away from his face.
His grey eyes digging deeper into the man's soul, who, in such a moment of terror, pissed himself as he fell to the ground.
"Look there," said Blanc coldly, pointing with his head towards Drew and his family, "I said look there."
"Yes, uh, I see them," the man replied.
"Do you think they begged?" Blanc asked.
"What?" the man asked, not sure what Blanc meant with the question.
"Wrong answer," Blanc replied, impaling his left leg with an arrow, "Scream, and you die."
The man began shedding tears, and a loud groan escaped his lips, but nothing else.
"Let's try again. Do you think they begged? The girls, while they were being raped, do you think they begged before you bastards cut their throats? The mother, watching her own daughters being raped in front of her own eyes, do you think she begged them to stop before you FUCKERS stabbed her? Answer me. Do you think they did?"
"Mhm," the man nodded the next moment.
"Then why are you begging me not to kill you, hm?" asked Blanc, crouching in front of him.
"I, uh, I have kids at home, two daughters and a son. I would never do such a thing. Please, believe me," said the man, "I will tell you anything you want to know, just let me live."
"We will see about that," said Blanc, getting on his feet and sitting down on the back of the dead man he had just killed as his chair, before speaking again, "Where are the Noble Bloods who fought against you?"
The man stuttered, but soon found his words as Blanc's fist closed tightly around the arrow, snapping it in two, "Captured, sir, or ran away before they were captured, in a last attempt."
"Who escaped?" Blanc asked.
"Uh, the Patriarch of Blood Maroux, the rest, I think, were captured and taken by King Yalan," replied the man.
"Where?"
"I'm, uh, I'm not sure, sir. I swear to the Vita and the lives of my kids, I do not know."
"It will be a bad time to lie, you know?" Blanc asked.
The man nodded sharply, "I know, I know. I did not lie."
Blanc was convinced the man was not lying, but another memory resurfaced. "Do you know of a Miyanna in your army?"
The man thought for a moment, then he replied, "From what I know, a young lady was acting as a commander in the vanguard under that name, but I heard all of them died... sir."
Blanc nodded, satisfied with the answer, but there was one other thing he had wanted to know. "Why are you still here if you won? Why not just go home?"
"I wish we would. But we are waiting for something to return before we head to other domains to do the same to them."
Blanc was stunned, now wanting to ask two other questions, but stopped and asked only the most urgent one, "What are you waiting on?"
"Please, sir, if they hear I told you I will-"
"Answer me, or they will never hear anything from you again. Neither they nor the three children you love so much," instructed Blanc.
"Okay, I will tell you, I will tell you. We are standing as the next vanguard for a division of the Ulveth Kingdom's army that can control a monster. And we begin our march to the next domain as soon as the monsters come down from the forest," explained the man, not realizing Blanc was already on his feet.
"What monsters?" asked Blanc, a wide look in his eyes as he turned to watch the forest.
"Moroi, sir," the man closed his eyes as Blanc moved, hoping he wouldn't kill him, "They can control them. They've used them in battles as well… sir?" asked the man as he opened his eyes, looking all around for the person he was talking to.
But Blanc was gone.
With heartbreaking answers on this side of the Golden Forest at least answered, and a very bad feeling that emerged from what that man said about the Moroi, he began running back, as fast as he could, towards the forest.
Towards the cave.
Towards his family.
Towards the only family he could now protect.
And towards the only thing that remained, just as the creature foretold at the lake.