I walked through the quiet roads of the town, it was night, Galloper the Younger followed by the leash behind me with the Warfather still very much passed out on top. Lucian kept me company for the road.

  We spotted a larger-than-usual inn in the distance. With a dark, green roof like an umbrella over its head.

  "Let us stop here for the night." He proclaimed.

  "Stop here?" I questioned. "It's only two hours to the princess. Tired already, Sir Lucian?" I said.

  "I'm not tired, but you are, and very much so, Sir."

  As he spoke those words, I felt the drag of my wounds. As if I was numb to the feeling or ignoring it until Lucian brought it to the light. I took a deep breath and shook my head.

  "Your wounds are dragging you. You cannot walk for two hours, you must rest for the night." He said.

  "What are you, a medic now?" I said.

  "Father will also need a bed for the night." He added. "I'm sure Galloper doesn't enjoy carrying a sleeping drunk through the night. And our home is almost half-way between here and the castle."

  I sighed. Let us have it your way.

  We walked into the inn. It was a clean place. With all sorts of slightly-wealthy folks. A blacksmith stood by arguing with a monk about something I wouldn't presume to understand. A woman and her two daughters ate beef. Two strange men stood arguing, though I had not paid enough attention to them to describe them yet.

  We walked to the innkeep. A fairly bearded man in his fourties perhaps. Like a viking. Red of hair.

  "We would like a room for the night." Said Lucian.

  "Three beds." I added. "Some supper, too. But no bread or sweets."

  "Aye." Said the innkeep, only half-paying attention to us as he watched something in the distance. He seemed troubled.

  "What's the matter, innkeep?" I asked. After a second and change, he turned to me, eyes still on the something in the distance.

  "Hm?" He said, now fully facing me. "Oh, yes, yes Sirs. Three beds. Supper. No bread or sweets. Second floor, sixth room to the right. That's yours. We'll bring you the supper in an hour."

  A moment as he looked back in that direction. I tried to look where he's looking. It's the two strange men I didn't pay attention to. One of them seems to be a scholar, with books under his arms, and a white robe and an elegant hat. But nothing very interesting. The other man was the flashier kind, dressed in a crimson robe, with strange paintings on his face, an owl's eyes and mouth. And a vacant expression. The two men continued an argument that heated by the minute.

  "I do not like the look of that man. He brings an uneasy presence." Said the innkeep. Wary. "He's one of them, Bleeding Owls. Fanatics. Hateful of life."

  We watched the man, who seemed to look in our direction for a moment too long, before he resumed with the scholar.

  "Sorry, that'll be 30 copper." Said the innkeep. I paid the bill and walked over to the two strange man. But Lucian stopped me.

  "What are you doing?" He asked.

  "Just saying hello." I said.

  "Stay away from the Bleeding Owls, Sir Dominic." Said Lucian. "They're not nice people."

  "Not nice people? I won't marry the man, I'll only say hello." I insisted. Lucian was taken aback by my demeanor.

  I went over to the man. Overheard part of his conversation.

  "Long ago, magic was a blood pact. You cut yourself to cast it. It was sacred." Said the Owl. "Ever since man evolved to the modern spontaneous magic. It just wasn't the same. Life became cursed. It is the anger of the gods, I tell you."

  "Well that is just not true!" Cried the scholar. "Evolution is part of life! Blood magic, I see why it was necessary then, but now it's easier and better!"

  "Easier isn't always better, scholar." Said the Owl. "How many Dark Lords have awakened this millenia? Two. Before that, we hadn't had one in two thousand years."

  "You want us to revert to blood magic, is that it?" Said the scholar. "Adopt the weaker magic, so when another Dark Lord awakens, we lose with ease. Say that."

  "The first mage was a blood mage." Said the Owl.

  "The first mage was also the first Dark Lord. Is that not true?" Added the scholar.

  "You knights forget. The first mage did not fall because of blood. He fell because the world could not bear a man who understood it."

  "Hello." I said, barging into the conversation. The scholar immediately excused himself. Snuffed. It was obvious he was fed up with the conversation even before I came.

  Now I noticed more clearly how the Owl looked strange, he had scars all over his body, cuts and wounds, his hands and under his sleeves and near his neck, most probably inflicted all by the same knife, it seemed.

  "Hello." The Owl said, surprised by my entrance. "Sir?"

  "Dominic." I said. "Sir Dominic, the Free."

  "Nice to meet you. Sir Dominic." He said. "That man was toxicating, wouldn't you say?"

  "I can't say I agree." I said. "With any of your points. If I'm being honest."

  "You were raised not to." He said. Walked up closer to me and studied my eyes. Uncomfortably close. "Blood magic is not a favored topic in this time. But it will be. There will be an awakening. A purge for all the deviators."

  I took a step back.

  "I'd rather you start the purging when I'm not around. Can you?" I said. He smiled and stared at me.

  I walked back to Lucian and continued to look at the Owl, who looked back. I did not like the Owl.

  "Why'd you talk to him?" Lucian asked.

  "I don't know. I just felt like it." I merely stated.

  "I never took you for the impulsive type." He said.

  Impulsive kind? ... Right. Today was the fifth day of my separation from Mary Jane. This was usually when things started to get weird.

  That night, we were laying on our own beds. I had a hard time sleeping. The wraps on my wounds were too cumbersome. Especially the one around my thigh.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  I decided to rip it off. But just the moment that I held the wraps with my hand, it shuddered. I quickly brought my hand back.

  My pinky finger was quivering again. Along with my ring finger. I held my hand in place with my other. Took a deep, comforting breath. And decided to let the wraps be for the moment.

  "Man the walls ...." Muttered a voice, half-clear, half-gone. Startling me ever so slightly. I turned and realized it was the Warfather, in his sleep. "Garrison ... Cavalry in form- ... Formation ... If any of you fights limp I'll ... I'll personally make sure that you ... Mhm ..."

  I shut my eyes. It was time to get some rest. It shall be a long day tomorrow. If I expect to make it with all my health I should—

  "They've breached the walls!" Cried the man, suddenly, interrupting my thoughts and forcing my eyes wide open. "Send ... Send for reinforcements! We d-die by the walls or we figh-fa--fight!"

  "It's his famous battle." Said Lucian. As wide awake and bothered as I am.

  "You're awake." I said.

  "How couldn't I be?" He said. "He tends to mutter about it in his sleep. The Battle of the Thorns. Where he defended the city of Thornridge from Kiyan invaders."

  "I've read about that. I think." I said. "Battle of Thornridge?"

  "No, that one was taken." Said Lucian. "Father always liked to complain that it was to be called that, but history already had a Battle of Thornridge. So they settled for the second option."

  "If you don't mind me asking, Lucian." I said. "What drove your father to his condition?"

  Lucian rolled over in his bed to face me. He sighed. Gathered his thoughts.

  "My father was always under a little bit of influence. Since his boy years." Said Lucian. "Just a sniff of the devil's plant, before any major battle or event. He said it gave him an edge."

  "It tends to do, for a while, yes." I said.

  "Before the Battle of the Thorns, he had a little too much. He thought it necessary. And he won, against all odds." Said Lucian. "However, everything after started to wane. As time went by, he started to feel his edge leaving him. His battles were less sung for. His fame was withering. Thats when he thought it necessary to indulge in the devil's plant more often than usual."

  "And did it bring back his edge?" I asked.

  "Not exactly." Said Lucian. "The plant was not only a poison, it was the devil. It gave him a lot of promises. And he paid himself in return for those promises. Soon enough, the plant was no longer enough. It did him no good. That's when he decided to indulge in different poisons."

  Lucian paused. He sighed. Turned to rest on his back, staring at the ceiling, melancholic.

  "He hogged beer. Wine. Even partook in the moon sugar." Said Lucian.

  "Moon sugar?" I asked.

  "It's a poison for the nose." He added. As he looked at me. I nodded. He looked back up to gather his thoughts again. "And then there were too many promises, and not enough of my father to pay them off. So his story was over."

  Silence. For a long moment. I thought deep. I turned to him, pitying.

  "I'm sorry, Lucian."

  "Enough of that now." Said Lucian. "Let's not speak more, before father awakes and hears something."

  "I've already heard everything." The Warfather broke his silence. We both turned to him. He was staring into the ceiling, then he shut his eyes and rolled over to the side, giving us his back. "Let a man go to sleep."

  Lucian and I exchanged looks. Before we went to sleep.

  Just an hour later or so. I was awakened by a loud CRASH. An explosion of sorts. I immediately sprung on my feet.

  Lucian was already at the door. Sword in hand. Turned to me and called.

  "Something's wrong!"

  Yes, Lucian, I can tell that something's wrong. I immediately grabbed my sword. No time to mail myself. Lucian and I ran out of the room. Into the tight hallway with all the rooms.

  Blood all over the walls. Flames eating the inn. A woman ran towards us, screaming, before a crimson-colored knife penetrated her chest. Blood splattered over our faces.

  Her body dropped. And behind her was one of them. The Bleeding Owls. With a conjured blood knife on a chain springing from his hand.

  He saw us. I immediately ran towards him. He swung his knife around. I held the chain with my hand and stabbed him in the neck. Blood gurgled from his mouth as he dropped dead.

  "Bleeding Owls!" I cried.

  We went downstairs and witnessed the brunt of the event. The inngoers were fighting for their lives with what they can. Dying. Several Bleeding Owls were the source of it. It was a slaughter.

  The innkeeper held two axes and fought. But was knocked out with relative ease by another Owl.

  One ran towards me with his own blood knife. I almost didn't notice him. Before Lucian intercepted and stabbed him in the chest.

  "Be careful, sir!" Cried Lucian.

  I noticed our acquaintance from earlier, the Bleeding Owl in the crimson robe, surrounded in a magical shield made of blood, firing dozens of blood knives at the folks who struggled to take cover and hide.

  "Your time has come!" Screamed the Owl. "The true magic is nigh! And the heretics shall die!"

  "He's the boss, Sir!" Cried Lucian. I acknowledged. "We need to kill that one!"

  I put my hand on my hilt, getting ready to grab my sword, but suddenly, I froze.

  My nerves were ice cold. A most powerful shudder went through my limbs, then my chest. I couldn't move. I snapped to action too fast? Or was it too slow? The hilt shook in my hand, gripped onto it, but not moving.

  Lucian realized my condition at once. He immediately stood in front of me, swung his sword at a couple blood knives flying towards me, then struck a lesser Owl in the abdomen who came running towards us.

  I grunted. Grazed on my teeth. Suddenly, screamed a deafening battlecry as I grabbed my wraps with my other hand and tore them off. My eyes were shooting tears of power.

  I pulled out my sword and sprung towards an Owl. He couldn't even see me coming before his head was under his knees.

  "Join me, Sir Dominic!" Cried the big Owl. He looked at me with a crazed expression and a terrifying laugh. "You fight for the wrong side! Fight for the truth!"

  "You're a mad-man!" I cried. I ran towards him, screaming. Chopped two Owls down. Almost tripped but I recalibrated and regained my balance. I ran until I reached the big Owl.

  His smile turned to a frown. He drove a cut down his left elbow. I froze again. Blood magic. What will he do?

  The blood dripping from his elbow started to shine as he hit me with a magical crimson-colored bolt to my thigh. The wounded one. I cried in pain.

  He summoned another knife. Two in his hands now. He waved both at me. I took a step back and started parrying with my sword. It wasn't enough.

  Lucian came to my aid after he'd just finished dealing with another Owl. We were coming at the Owl from both directions. But his eyes were charged. He was fighting with inhumane strength.

  I landed a lucky one. Grazed his side. He tumbled and fell, immediately rolling back and standing. He backed off a few steps, still shooting knives that we immediately deflected.

  I held my onslaught and pushed in. He was backed against the wall. His eyes laid aglow. He opened his mouth and shouted with immense power.

  "You will die, scum!" He cried, as he threw one of his knives towards Lucian, who barely dodged it.

  He held his other knife, towards his own face, before sticking it STRAIGHT into his RIGHT EYE. He screamed. His entire body started to glow. Before the inn EXPLODED.

  Silence. Nothing but the sounds of fire cackling in the distance.

  I dragged myself carefully across the debris. Lucian was about to pass out. I struggled to stand.

  The Owl hovered one foot above the ground, his hands spewed flames and his eyes glew horrifically. There had to be something I could do.

  He approached Lucian and held him by his neck. His hot hands were leaving burn marks around them. He spoke in a demonic and un-worldly voice.

  "You do not deserve the courtesy of last words." He proclaimed. I shuddered. Struggled to get on my arms and legs. But before he could finish the job-

  "Stay away from him!" Cried a voice.

  It was the Warfather. Sir Roderick Blackmere. The Warfather's eyes opened. Clear. For the first time since I had met him. "Stay away from my son!"

  He held his sword with the might of a legend. The Owl laughed. He started firing dozens of knives at the Warfather, but they were nothing. The Warfather had immediately conjured a barrier of light that rendered the knives useless as he ran towards the Owl.

  The Owl dropped Lucian to focus on his battle. The Warfather wove his sword around in a side-ways 8-shape. He quickly stuck his sword into the blood barrier, causing it to dissipate at once.

  "Here's what I think of your god-forsaken blood magic!" Cried the Warfather, as he drove a cut through the Owl's right arm, cutting the whole thing off.

  For a moment, Lucian rose his face from the ground to face his father. He was shocked. Amazed. Even proud. His father's eyes met his, as he struck his sword into the Owl's chest. Causing him to freeze in place.

  "Father!" Cried Lucian. The Warfather let the Owl go.

  He looked his son in the eyes and smiled. Sheathing his sword and standing proud. Nothing could have made him happier than this moment.

  "That's the wrong side. Father! It's on the left!" Called Lucian. The Warfather froze. He had made a mistake. "His heart's not there!"

  The Warfather took a step back. He reached to unsheath his sword once again, but before he could, the Owl swung his knife at him, cutting his head from his body and sending it flying.

  Lucian's body shook. He dropped to his face once again and cried through the floor.

  "Father!!!!" He echoed.

  The Owl turned to Lucian, but before he could finish his slaughter, blood pooled out of his mouth. He held it in a puddle with his remaining hand in front of his chest. Much more blood coming out of his torn arm.

  "Oh dear ... I must leave." He proclaimed. Words half-muddied.

  In an instant, the Owl flew away. Leaving the devastated battlefield behind. A long trail of blood following him until he disappeared.

  Lucian crawled towards his father's head, laid a few feet away from the bar, among broken glass and toppled beer bottles. He held it in his hands. Tears spewed from his eyes like a fountain. His cries were ugly. He hugged it. Blood smeered over his cheeks.

  "Father! You old fool!" He cried under his tears. "His heart wasn't there!"