"Your Highness!" he called out, his voice trembling with urgency. "The city… it's under attack!"

The air was thick with tension as Ser Rodrick's words hung in the air. The city was under attack.

The roar of the oncoming horde grew louder, filling the streets with an ominous rumble that sent chills down my spine. I shook my head, trying to clear the fog of disbelief. Eldoria, my kingdom, the place I had grown up in, was under siege. How the hell had it come to this?

"Your Highness, we must get you to safety!" Ser Rodrick urged, his eyes wide with fear. "The barbarians... they came out of nowhere. We were unprepared!"

Barbarians? I hadn't heard of any threat from the barbarian tribes in years. They were usually disorganized, bickering among themselves over scraps of land in the wilderness. How could they suddenly launch an attack on the capital?

My mind raced, trying to process the situation. It was like something out of one of my nightmares, except this time I was awake, and there was no waking up to escape the horror.

"We can't just leave the city to burn!" I snapped back, but the resolve in my voice felt hollow, more a reaction than a conviction. My body moved on its own, adrenaline pumping through my veins as I grabbed Ser Rodrick by the arm. "Where's the army? Where are the defenses?"

"They're holding the gates as best they can, but it's chaos," he replied, his voice strained. "The barbarians... they're not likethe ones we've faced before. They're stronger, faster... almost as if they're possessed."

Possessed? The word sent a shiver down my spine, a distant echo of something from my dreams, but I pushed it aside. There was no time to dwell on nightmares.

I broke into a run, Ser Rodrick close behind me as we made our way toward the city gates. The streets that had beenbustling with life earlier were now eerily empty, the usual clamor replaced by the distant sounds of battle. The closer we got, the more intense the sounds became—clashing swords, screams of pain, the thunderous footsteps of the oncoming horde.

And then, as we rounded a corner, I saw them.

The barbarians were like nothing I had ever seen before. They were huge, towering over the city guards, their bodies rippling with unnatural strength. Their eyes glowed with a wild, frenzied light, and their faces were twisted into expressions of savage glee. They wore crude armor made from animal hides and bones, and they wielded massive weapons—clubs, axes, swords—each one bigger and more vicious-looking than the last.

The city guards, outnumbered and outmatched, were struggling to hold the line. For every barbarian they cut down, two more seemed to take its place. Blood ran in rivers down the cobblestone streets, and the air was thick with the metallic tang of death.

"Your Highness, we need to fall back!" Ser Rodrick shouted over the din, grabbing my arm as I instinctively moved to join the fray. "There's no point in throwing your life away here!"

He was right, of course. I knew it in my bones. But seeing the city—the kingdom that was supposed to be mine—beingtorn apart, something inside me snapped.

Without thinking, I drew the sword that hung at my side, its blade gleaming in the dying light. It was a ceremonial weapon, more for show than for actual combat, but in that moment, it was all I had.

I charged forward, my heart pounding in my chest as I swung the sword at the nearest barbarian. The blade connected with a sickening crunch, sinking into the creature's flesh, but instead of falling, it merely roared in fury and swatted me aside like I was nothing.

I hit the ground hard, the impact knocking the wind out of me. My vision blurred, and for a moment, all I could see were stars. But the sounds of battle brought me back, the screams of the dying pulling me to my feet.

I stumbled backward, my sword slipping from my grasp as I stared in horror at the carnage unfolding around me. The barbarians were relentless, cutting down everything and everyone in their path. The city guards were being slaughtered, their bodies piling up in the streets. There was no order, no strategy—just pure, unadulterated chaos.

And in the midst of it all, I realized something with a cold, sinking dread.

We were going to lose.

"Your Highness!" Ser Rodrick's voice cut through the haze, and I felt his strong grip on my arm, pulling me away from the battle. "We need to get to the castle, now!"

I didn't resist. The fight had drained whatever resolve I had left. We turned and ran, the sounds of battle fading as we made our way through the deserted streets. My mind raced with fear, anger, and a gnawing sense of failure.

As we approached the castle, a new wave of dread washed over me. The gates were wide open, the guards that weresupposed to be stationed there nowhere to be seen. My stomach twisted with fear as we hurried inside, the grand hall eerily quiet.

"Father! Mother!" I shouted, my voice echoing off the stone walls. There was no answer.

I broke into a run, Ser Rodrick struggling to keep up as I sprinted through the castle's corridors. The silence was deafening, every step we took magnified by the emptiness around us. My heart pounded in my chest, a sickening dread clawing at my insides.

Finally, we reached the throne room. The heavy doors were ajar, and I pushed them open with trembling hands, praying that I wouldn't find what I feared most.

But when I stepped inside, the world seemed to tilt beneath me.

Blood. So much blood.

My father lay sprawled across the throne, his chest heaving with labored breaths, a massive wound gaping in his side. My mother was crumpled at the base of the steps, her once elegant dress soaked in red. Both of them were pale, their faces twisted in pain, but they were alive. Barely.

"Father! Mother!" I cried out, rushing to their side. My legs felt like lead, each step taking more effort than the last. I fell to my knees beside them, my hands trembling as I reached out to touch them, to assure myself that this wasn't just another nightmare.

My father turned his head slowly, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. "Eldric..." he rasped, his voice barely more than a whisper. "My son..."

I swallowed hard, my throat tightening with emotion. "Who did this? What happened?"

But before he could answer, the doors behind me slammed open, and a group of barbarian warriors burst into the room, their eyes blazing with that same unnatural light. They roared, their weapons raised as they charged toward us.

"No!" I screamed, rising to my feet and placing myself between my parents and the oncoming horde. I reached for my sword, only to realize I had lost it during the battle in the city.

The barbarians closed in, their faces twisted in savage grins, and I knew there was no way I could stop them. But I couldn't just stand there and let them take everything from me. I had to do something, anything.

I clenched my fists, ready to fight with my bare hands if I had to, when suddenly, a deafening crash echoed through the room. The roof above us groaned, and a massive stone column, weakened by the attack, broke free and came crashing down.

Everything seemed to slow down. I heard my mother's scream, saw the barbarians scatter in panic, and felt the floor shudder beneath my feet as the column hurtled toward me.

And then, darkness.

There was a sharp, excruciating pain as something hard and heavy struck the side of my head—a helmet, maybe, from one of the fallen knights—and I felt myself falling, the world spinning out of control.

The last thing I heard was the sound of my father's voice, weak and distant, calling my name.

And then, nothing.