Urges of Heroism (Part 2)

“To fear the darkness around you,

That is how it daunts.

To feel the darkness inside you,

That is what it wants.”

- The Poet, A Ghost in the Frost: Diaries of the Lost

            Several hours passed by, but still the door remained silent as it began to resemble the walls around it more and more. The Martyr couldn’t stand it. How could everyone just sit around and do nothing? The Prince and the Swordsman were still out there. Didn’t anyone care? Sure, everyone she talked to hoped they would return, but is merely wishing someone the best really caring? The Martyr didn’t think so. Thus, determined to do the right thing, she decided to brave the cold and bring her conscience peace. In the same manner as the Prince, she stood up and headed to the door oblivious to what the others said. The door had to be reminded that it was not a wall. And the people needed to be reminded that they were no better for thinking so.

            Outside the weather was brutal, but still the tracks were relatively easy to see. The footprints themselves seemed more to be following a path than wandering aimlessly into the Abyss, like such a route had been taken before. And recently. Where it led the Martyr was uncertain, but the Swordsman and the Prince had both come this way so she followed it as best she could.

            Eventually the path led to a mounded, snowy region where her journey ended its silence. In the distance the Martyr could hear what sounded like an object being struck repeatedly. And so she snuck up behind a snow dune and peaked over it to see where the noise was coming from. It was the Swordsman, striking a frozen pond and breaking apart its top layer of ice. This seemed more than a little strange, but the Martyr was happy to see him alive. And so she climbed up on the dune to ask him what he was doing, but an unpleasant sight caught her attention before she could ever say a word. The Prince was laying on the ground beside him, surrounded by a pool of blood. The Martyr was so aghast she quickly turned and climbed back down the hill. But it was too late. The Swordsman had seen her. Reasonably scared, she began running back down the path toward Jazmin’s Tavern with the Swordsman in pursuit.

            The Saint watched the door swing open and the Martyr come stumbling in, but he had no idea what was following close behind. And so as he went to give her a hand, he felt the sting of steel from the next figure to come crashing through the door. With his eyes burning red, the Swordsman looked away from the falling Saint and toward Jazmin. Berserk, he ran toward the bar in a fit of rage. But the Ranger intercepted and kicked him to the ground. And that’s when the rest of the frightened onlookers sprang into action, helping the Ranger pin him to the floor and tie him up. Eventually the Swordsman stopped struggling and his eyes turned back to their normal color right before he blacked out. At that point everyone breathed a sigh of relief, although the Saint’s was more of a wince…