The streets were barren under the starry twilight.
Since being sent to this foreign place, and cowardly passing out on a random floor, Aemon had no clue what time it was.
While approaching the great inn, he muttered:
"So, this must be where I am staying… Not too bad."
He helped himself into the grand doors, swinging them open with all his might. The gold, swirling decoration on all surfaces made the lodge feel fit for royalty.
"Hey! Need a room?"
The thin, sun-kissed woman behind the large check-in desk waved Aemon over with a small, silver key.
"Yeah, that would be great."
She smiled and held the key above him as he reached out his palm.
"Up the stairs, down the hall…"
She paused to read the small numbers engraved in the key, then looked up and said:
"Room 42! Should be on the left side!"
With that exclamation and a smirk, she dropped the key and walked off in the opposite direction Aemon intended to go.
Why is everyone so excited here? Their delighted attitudes are killing me…
Aemon made his way to the glass stairway while observing the lobby of the hotel.
Polished floors blinded him with reflections at every angle, and a red carpet streamed down the spiraling stairs. A large chandelier swung majestically, streaming faint light around the area.
From the outside, you would never expect such luxury to be housed in such a modest-looking building.
The sound of thin glass making contact with his tacky shoes was nothing but smooth and satisfying as Aemon ascended the staircase.
At the peak, Aemon was greeted by what looked to be a never-ending corridor. Lines of identical white doors stretched on for as far as the eye could see, each with a unique number identifying the room.
Staring down the lengthy hallway, he began the walk to his suite.
With each step, his eyes were harder to keep open, and his feet dragged against the slick tile. His exhaustion grew exponentially, proving that the properties of the mystical flower were waning. With a yawn, he exclaimed:
"Ahh, this must be my room."
The colorless matte door sat elegantly, with a sleek, golden door knob complimenting it.
Without much notice, Aemon inserted the key with a turn, opening the door.
The abode was cramped, with only a bed, which appeared to be twin-sized, a small but sturdy wooden nightstand, and a lamp with the same gold, swirling embroidery as a lot of the walls and furniture on the first floor.
Aemon threw himself onto the soft bed, dozing off with each recoiling bounce of the mattress. He then reached over to put out the light, while mumbling to himself:
"If I can sleep like this every night, maybe this world isn't so bad after all."
As the limbs in his body shut off, his breaths became steady, and he realized how unfamiliar a quality sleep had become.
***
Clang!
Loud, metallic crashes abruptly awoke Aemon.
"What the hell was that?"
Stifled grunts and the sharp sound of metal weapons violently clashing together could be heard from below. With no windows, it was hard to tell what was going on, especially since he was still half asleep.
Aemon threw the nicely folded covers to the end of the bed and sat up. The peaceful atmosphere of his room was occasionally broken by the savage cries of men just below him. Chills ran through his spine every time he heard the dampened calls for help.
"No, don't! I- I have a family…"
The helpless groveling was followed by a moment of sheer silence. Then, footsteps, tearing up the dirt, walking away with a manner of unforgiveness. Aemon was sure that the death of that pleading man had occurred just beneath him.
It was apparent this wasn't one singular crime; it was a whole army. Strategic yelling and crowds of people stampeding through the village could be heard through the opposite wall of the room, each person either screaming for help or wallowing on the ground, letting their lives be taken by these unknown forces.
At first, Aemon was unsure whether to leave, though with further thinking, he acknowledged the commotion from under was sure to find him eventually.
He stood up and retrieved his hoodie from the ground, which he had removed during his slumber. While putting it on, he pressed his hand against the door, testing the sturdiness.
But if the people out there could kill so easily, he doubted a door would be much help anyway.
If they come up… I'm done for. This thing won't hold.
After concluding that the door would not be a proper means of protecting him, he gripped the sleek handle and rotated the lock, allowing him to bolt down the hallway. Once on the move, he said:
"32. 30. 28…"
Aemon called out each dorm number to his right as he swiftly passed them. However, this was just a weak attempt to keep his mind off the possible slaughterhouse that was waiting down below.
Shortly ahead of him, other residents were quickly making their way to the exit, each pushing and bumping one another as they made it to the thin passage at the head of the stairs.
Come on… Go down faster, people!
As he finally approached the stairs, his momentum almost came to a complete halt. The abundance of people trying to maneuver to escape didn't handle the spiraling descent well.
Aemon had the short end of the stick, though, because the person, or whatever you could call it, was a large giant, towering far above the height Aemon could see.
So you love taking your sweet ass time while all our lives are in danger?!
Eventually, he made it to the main floor, with no particular destination in mind; all he knew was that he wanted to survive.
Then, it hit him:
Gavriil! I need to find him.
Aemon tactically jumped and dashed through the massive mob, scrambling to the exit.
Once he got to the door, the sights that covered his vision were nothing less than horrifying.
Men, women, and children of all ages were scattered on the streets, left for dead, while what looked to be medieval knights, suited in shiny black armor, ransacked the village, grabbing anything and anybody they could.
The threatening weapons they wielded were most peculiar and one of the scariest sights of all. Halberds, as tall as Aemon. The deadly instruments sported magenta crystals at the bottom of the handles that pulsed thicker with every swing.
Gavriil… Please be okay.
Aemon darted in the direction of the saloon, praying that Gavriil was waiting for him.
C'mon. C'mon. C'mon!
Every ounce of will he had was put into his stride. He shoved through the large flock of people just trying to make it to Gavriil's restaurant. Occasionally, he would have to leap over lifeless bodies scattered around the gravel path, each with pools of blood surrounding them. The gorey spills took on a dusty maroon color, presumably from their mixture with the gravel.
When he got to the pub, he saw Gavriil, but he didn't have the welcoming smile that comforted Aemon; instead, he was being held to the ground with the axe of the halberd grazing his throat.
Aemon stopped in his tracks, sliding on the dirt, and almost losing his balance.
"Gavriil…! No!"
In between desperate struggling and despairing grunts, Gavriil looked up and said to him:
"Go Aemon…! Get out of here! Run as far as you can, don't worry about me!"
Another large group of people frantically ran in between Aemon and Gavriil, obstructing their sight of each other. The last thing Aemon saw before the crowd brushed over was the gentle smile that Gavriil never failed to show.
"I'm coming, I'll save you!"
Aemon took a step forward, in pursuit of the knight dragging Gavriil. He continued walking, pushing anybody who got in his way.
That was until he felt the cold gauntlets of one of the knights gripping his right shoulder, promptly stopping all of his drive.
In a deep, penetrating voice, the tall soldier commanded:
"You aren't going anywhere…"