Am I Ready for This New World?!
What a beautiful sky. The night sky laid before him, and he struggled to keep his eyes open long enough to take it all in. “M-my Lord!” a voice screamed in the distance, struggling to overcome the sound of horses, and of clashing metal. He resisted the temptation to look over at the distant voice, not wishing to miss a moment of this beautiful sight.
Blurred figures quickly ran up and sheathed their weapons as they fell down besides him. He couldn't recognize any of them. One quickly reached to grasp the blade that resided in his stomach, before being smacked away by another. There was yelling and shouting between the lot of them, but he could only faintly hear what they were saying. The group picked him up and lifted him on-top of their shoulders, before rushing away. His eyes were now winning the battle of wills, and as the group loaded him into a wagon, darkness overtook him.
He faintly awoke on the floor of the throne room. A thick, heavy banner loomed over him from the ceiling. He glanced at the beautiful, purple-hilted dagger that had pierced his armor, with its black blade firmly lodged within. Robed figures stood over him, engulfing the blade in blue magic.
His head fell to the side.
Members of his personal retinue stood by, wearing stoic expressions as their armor. “He's dying! Hurry up! Please!” a female voice cried out, out of sight. Straining to turn his head, he tried to see the one who he loved, but could not.
His eyes began to shut as the voice began to scream. “Acolytes! Save him, damn you!” the scream gave way to a shrill sobbing. Metal armor clanked as he heard the sobs get closer, stopping it from closing in. “Move him! Quickly!” a voice shouted. He felt himself being picked up off the floor, and then his eyes shut to eternal darkness.