Invasion

Someone had shoved sand down her throat and taken a hammer to her head. Was still pounding on it, apparently. The throbbing was unyielding, as though her pain had taken on a life of its own. Desperately needing water, her tongue felt parched and rough. The agony in her head was a persistent drumbeat, echoing with every pulse.

Aeryn looked up from the cold marbled floor. A slow and steady blink had her adjusting to the lighting of the ballroom. A second had her staring at the once-stunning muslin curtains with classic patterns strategically punctuating the alluring design that now had been drenched in blood. Another had her staring at the pearly white walls that had met the same grisly fate.

The grand chandelier that had once stood tall, catching the eyes of all revels and folk who dared do more than stare and drink in the music and bathe in the light greedily as they spun and danced around with their partners until sunrise. It, much like the Kingdom, now embraced the ground as it's crystals lay scattered.

A dull ache resonated through her body as she struggled to rise, stifling a cry of pain. Each movement was an effort against the searing throb in her back.

The ballroom is d transformed into a scene of carnage. The room wore red. Akin to the once-lush carpet caressing the floor where royal family's thrones once stood. Streaks of blood painted the walls. She wrinkled her nose as she stared at the bodies that had started to smell. Suggesting that she had been knocked out for some time.

She tried to remember what had happened before she had been knocked out but her efforts proved futile as all she got in return was a worse headache.

She didn't have the luxury of time to keep thinking. Or at least that was all the thoughts her body would allow before sending another migraine her way.

Her body insisted on focusing on the immediate task at hand. Her eyes scanned the ruined ballroom in an attempt to find her sword. She found it laying next to a female with blonde hair laying supine with their head turned away. Her heart was practically jumping out of her chest and her legs felt numb and miserably unstable as she approached the body.

Esrayile, one of her only two best friends, laying on the ground, lifeless and much like the room. Her body was stiff and cold as Aeryn pressed her head to her side as tears stung her eyes and begun to cascade down her cheeks uncontrollably.

She brought her hands to her face and wiped her tears, pulling herself together and saying a silent prayer for her friend. If she was going to avenge Es, she needed to survive first, she told herself.

A tear fell from her eye as she gave a final salute to her best friend.

It still puzzled her how she was still alive.

She should have been deadthis could have been the reason she survived.

She had to get to Raeyelle, fast. She figured she would be in the great hall, she'd gone there to deliver a message to the King. The chances of her still being there were next to none. She needed a somewhere to look and that seemed like a great start. With a sigh and a heavy heart, Aeryn twisted the door open and moved through the halls.

She made her way there cautiously, her sword erect firmly in her hands. She was hoping they were still alive, although the chances were less likely.

She switched her sword to her left hand and used her right hand to turn the golden door knob.

Stepping into the room, careful not to make any noise in case someone was in her presence, her eyes scanned the room and she noted that everything was intact. Nothing was out of place. The place was tidy. This was odd. No sign of a struggle. She drew a sharp breath as she took a step forward and saw two pairs of feet sticking out from behind the center table.

She carefully neared them and as expected the King and Queen laid on the ground each with matching red splotches on their clothes. And more blood on their throats. Their throats had been slit. She made a mental note to think about this later because now was definitely not the time to.

She noticed that the king's eyes were still opened hinting that rigor mortis had already set in. She bent down carefully and gently swept her hands over his eyes. His wife's eyes were already closed.

She said a silent prayer for them and got up to head to the door when a glint of light caught her eyes. She reversed her steps and saw a silver marble looking ball. Without so much as a second thought she reached for it. She didn't know what she noticed first; her hair standing up on its ends or the sound of the door knob twisting open. Maybe it was the sound of her heart palpitating in her chest.

She bolted with making much noise to the door and quickly unsheathed her sword behind the door where she would be at a vantage spot. The door clicked open.

She recognized a familiar set of red hair akin to that of Rae's. She lowered her sword ever so slightly and dropped it when the girl spoke.

"Could you let me get paid then kill me?" Rae wore a sarcastic look. Aeryn rolled her eyes; she always knew when to joke around at the wrong time.

"Focus Darkhan, we don't have time for this." She hoped her Commander voice would make her understand the gravity of their situation.

"No hello, I'm so glad you're not dead?" Her shoulders slumped in mock defeat when she was met with a stern look.

"Where's Rayile?" she asked, finally getting the hint to be serious. Rae got her answer when Aeryn averted her gaze and her hand traveled to her arm, silver lining her eyes.

With a nod, Rae unsheathed her sword and pointed at the door. "Might as well make it worth it, no?"

As if remembering something, Aeryn rushed back inside and slipped the ball into her pocket leathers.

They exchanged meaningful glances and started for the armoury.

"Last chance to change your mind. We can head to the stables and ride out of here whiles we still have our feet."

Aeryn pressed her lips together but replied a second later, "I suggest we go before I have enough time to think better of it." A smile tugged at Rae's as she sighed in mock defeat.

They had seen the flags, knew they were in trouble the moment they saw the crimson flags with swords crossed and a shield in the center parading high above a sea of warriors that stretched out into the horizon.

The flags were not just signals of peril but of the formidable enemy they were about to face. This was not merely a battle for survival but a pivotal moment that would reshape their futures. They matched on nevertheless, knowing that their choices would define their path forward. The imminent confrontation was not just about the physical struggle but also about the resolve to face their destiny, whatever it might hold.