Amethyst eyes and melting blues, desperate fear, "Mom, what do we do?"
No time to think, death is nigh, a toddler and child, to their mother they plead.
Flames approach and the doors tremble, blind rage and inferno over lost Passion.
Ballista fired, my first hits their mark, the second off one I still adores pitiless shield.
Distraction and death is the only possibility.

Running, running, claws clicking on stone, step out of safety. Fires rage. They attack home.
Blindly running, seeking to cause as much damage as possible, all panic, but not for myself.
Will I return from the mirror? Silent prayers cast.
I return. Again and again, torn apart, limbs crushed, pain still quaking as I'm poisoned, stabbed, bit, destroyed, burned.
It's for them, so they might survive.
Nothing but pain and fear. The walls fall.
He will slay one of his own. I still smell them. Mine will not suffer as I did.
A Fork spun of childhood trauma, history will not be repeated for him.
Loading.

"So this is how you want to do it?"

A fake smile. Ballista strikes true, and so I'm struck. I still feel and I still linger with old feelings, despite being torn apart.
Run. Claws, passing by my home in ruins, another shot in the ballista.
I burn one last time.
Did they make it out?
Hours of waiting. Raging despite my heart going two ways. I am torn asunder.
The waiting and searching was worse than any physical torment.

My families home is lost.
We were almost lost.
Burnt children sobbing in pain, terrified. I put on a brave face.

He comes home after I have tended to their wounds.
Pain still hidden in my heart, choking all other feelings out, save the ones I truly want gone.
Maybe things will make sense one day.
I doubt it.

Penned by my hand on Quensday, the 15th of Lleian, in the year 511 MA.