At The Stroke Of Midnight

Part 3

“How?” he demanded. “How can I bring on the end of the world, yet bring peace to it?”

The chief elder opened his mouth to reply, but a blade shot out from his chest and he was cut short. He looked down in surprise before collapsing into a heap on the ground as the blade unsheathed itself from his chest. The energy that rushed through Sebastian left him, and exhaustion flooded everyone of his senses. When the elder had been killed, the connection had been broken.

A tall cloaked figure stood in front of the young Protadon, his blade dripping with blood. Its veiled eyes glowed silver and had black eye shadow smudged underneath them. Long, thin black horns poked out from the shadow the cloak casted and curled upwards. The figure waved their hand, and as if on command arrows fired by unseen individuals pierced through the heart of every elder. They all fell to the ground one by one with the life draining from their eyes, similar to a line of dominoes being tipped over. The connections of blue light disappeared from their ram horns and left the air with a hollowed out feeling—the heavy, thumping beat of power gone.

As if a spell had been broken, the clouds and the strange light disappeared altogether, and the wind blew lazily. Sebastian looked beyond the cloaked figure to see his family on the ground, all of their throats slashed except for his papa’s. Dozens of other cloaked figures surrounded them, each bearing the same attire as the one facing him. It was as if he had front row seats to the slaughterhouse and had no choice but to sit there and bear through it.

“Run, Sebastian!” his papa cried, reaching out to his son. “Get as far away from here as you-” he said, before the quick slice of a blade silenced his voice.

Sebastian stared in horror as his papa fell to the ground next to the rest of his family. He screams would be defined as the sound of pure heartbreak. The Protadon had already lost his older brother to violence, he couldn’t comprehend that same pain increased a fourth fold. He backed away from the cloaked figure, swaying slightly with each step he took. His knees wobbled from the suffering he had endured, and he shivered from the frigid winds the killers had brought with them.

They circled around him, leaving nowhere else to run. Sebastian suddenly remembered the object tied around his neck, which had been given to him by his papa a few days prior. If he were ever to be in danger, then he could use it as a means of escape if he saw no other way out. He threw it on the ground and crushed it with his foot. In the blink of an eye, Sebastian vanished.

“Where did he go?” one of the cloaked figures hissed.

The Protadon who’d stabbed the chief elder in the back also happened to be the leader of the group. He pulled out a black cloth and wiped the blood off of his blade.

“Wherever he went, he couldn’t have gone far.”

With his sword cleaned, he tossed the cloth on the ground and set it ablaze with the snap of his fingers—burning the flowers and grass around it.

“Send out the barghests, they should be able to find his location with ease. They might even finish the job for us.”

The other cloaked figure nodded his head in understanding and barked out something in a foreign language to the others. A piercing howl echoed throughout the valley, marking the coming of the barghests. Their cries foretold death—the death of Sebian Dalca.

The chief elder opened his mouth to reply, but a blade shot out from his chest and he was cut short. He looked down in surprise before collapsing into a heap on the ground as the blade unsheathed itself from his chest. The energy that rushed through Sebastian left him, and exhaustion flooded everyone of his senses. When the elder had been killed, the connection had been broken.

A tall cloaked figure stood in front of the young Protadon, his blade dripping with blood. Its veiled eyes glowed silver and had black eye shadow smudged underneath them. Long, thin black horns poked out from the shadow the cloak casted and curled upwards. The figure waved their hand, and as if on command arrows fired by unseen individuals pierced through the heart of every elder. They all fell to the ground one by one with the life draining from their eyes, similar to a line of dominoes being tipped over. The connections of blue light disappeared from their ram horns and left the air with a hollowed out feeling—the heavy, thumping beat of power gone.

As if a spell had been broken, the clouds and the strange light disappeared altogether, and the wind blew lazily. Sebastian looked beyond the cloaked figure to see his family on the ground, all of their throats slashed except for his papa’s. Dozens of other cloaked figures surrounded them, each bearing the same attire as the one facing him. It was as if he had front row seats to the slaughterhouse and had no choice but to sit there and bear through it.

“Run, Sebastian!” his papa cried, reaching out to his son. “Get as far away from here as you-” he said, before the quick slice of a blade silenced his voice.

Sebastian stared in horror as his papa fell to the ground next to the rest of his family. He screams would be defined as the sound of pure heartbreak. The Protadon had already lost his older brother to violence, he couldn’t comprehend that same pain increased a fourth fold. He backed away from the cloaked figure, swaying slightly with each step he took. His knees wobbled from the suffering he had endured, and he shivered from the frigid winds the killers had brought with them.

They circled around him, leaving nowhere else to run. Sebastian suddenly remembered the object tied around his neck, which had been given to him by his papa a few days prior. If he were ever to be in danger, then he could use it as a means of escape if he saw no other way out. He threw it on the ground and crushed it with his foot. In the blink of an eye, Sebastian vanished.

“Where did he go?” one of the cloaked figures hissed.

The Protadon who’d stabbed the chief elder in the back also happened to be the leader of the group. He pulled out a black cloth and wiped the blood off of his blade.

“Wherever he went, he couldn’t have gone far.”

With his sword cleaned, he tossed the cloth on the ground and set it ablaze with the snap of his fingers—burning the flowers and grass around it.

“Send out the barghests, they should be able to find his location with ease. They might even finish the job for us.”

The other cloaked figure nodded his head in understanding and barked out something in a foreign language to the others. A piercing howl echoed throughout the valley, marking the coming of the barghests. Their cries foretold death—the death of Sebian Dalca.

<<Part 2 Next Chapter>>

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