Before
The wailing of a baby echoed through the saturated walls of limestone and granite, muffling any noise of footsteps proceeding closer against wet cave ground. Not a sound came from the intruders, not a whisper or a breath, not a cling of armor or a sheath of a sword. Everything was quiet aside from the murmuring of voices just ahead, trying to soothe a distraught baby.
It will be quick.
The soldiers entered the karst area swiftly and with ease, killing two of the closest victims before anyone had noticed a new presence. A wail of terror and grief escaped a woman as a third victim had been taken by the sword. That left two people and a newborn baby as the Second hand in command, Abhivira Hildebrand, entered the cavern. Behind her, a bowman with a drawn bow let loose his arrow and hit the man standing that held the newborn baby wrapped in brown cloth. The man, hit in the chest opposite of where the baby rests its head, slowly sank to the ground as gracefully as he could to benefit the baby as it cried.
A look of rage and of betrayal crossed the mother’s face as she looked at the ones who had just murdered the ones she cared about. It was a young face, aside from the baby, possibly the youngest there. Her wild red hair gave her a youth that would have kept with her for a long time. The green in her eyes intensified as her tears glistened and fell. Her glare, the hatred in her eyes, did not leave the man who had come in last behind the bowman. His face was the face she knew. One she has graced her own love upon. His gaze did not leave the ground.
“Why would you...?” she cried out in anger. She could feel his power overwhelming hers. She felt it before she saw him, but the shock must have made it pass unnoticed before seeing him. She knew there was nothing she could do now as hopelessness overcame her. She couldn’t use her powers to save him. She looked at her baby, still wrapped in the arms of the man who died only seconds ago. She could see the red on top of his head thinly growing, and she knew he was going to be cursed with her hair, and the hours of trying to manage it.
It was the last thought she had before the bowman took his last shot, a merciful one, if anyone could call it that.
“Take the child, Verace.” Commander Hildebrand ordered the pitiful man next to her.
The man whose gaze did not leave the ground, mournfully wondered over to the crying baby. He couldn’t look at her directly, not with the guilt he miserably felt, but he could see the outline of her body from his peripherals. She lay there motionless, almost in the same position she had been in when giving birth moments ago. The baby flailed his arms as Verace picked him up, his sobs getting more and more strained as they began to leave the cavern of dead bodies he once knew. The smell of sweet iron and sticky air slowly started to melt into thin air as cold fresh air welcomed them as they exited the cavern.
