She was within the gates. All around her people ran in a panic. Families that ran together would get separated in an instant. Uniformed officers ran past her towards the gates, drawing together two large wrought iron pieces. Everyone sought refuge within the chapel behind her. Already overflowing, people streamed from the chapels doors into the square in front of it. She first noticed a beautiful lit fountain in the wake of a crowd that had just passed her only to reveal a large obelisk touching the sky in the middle of the square. At its apex the obelisk cradled a cross, its image burned in her mind against the cloudy sky. Bursts of amber light flashed on the horizon. Behind the obelisk a large church, hundred of times larger than the chapel, played sanctuary to thousands of people.
Screams could be heard from thousands of people caught behind the gate. She wondered what they were fleeing from. Through the screams she could hear prayers. Prayers to God, prayers to Jesus and prayers to the Virgin Mary. The language through which they spoke was familiar to her and though she couldn't speak it, she could thoroughly understand it.
Rain hailed down from above, hot and piercing. She's never experienced such a sensation before. She expected to be cold from the downpour but instead found herself stung from the heat of each drop. Wafts of mist ascended to the sky as the rain assaulted the fleeing people. Behind the storm she could sense the malevolent force marching their way.
She ran into the church but lingered at its doors trying to grasp an image of what evil came their way. The thoughts of the people around her invaded her mind but she fought keep her focus on the force that came towards her.
The mist turned to fog. Denser and denser it became until she couldn't see the tips of her fingernails. From the gates came forth a brilliant light. The fog diffused the light to give it a beautiful rainbow halo but this elegance did nothing to ease her fears.
As quickly as the light came it faltered. With the new darkness came a recession of the fog. She could see it rolling back, as if summoned. The rain ceased as either the fleeing crowd made it into the sanctuary of the church or lay dead in the courtyard.
The withdrawal of the fog revealed armed men of different nationalities lining the gate entrance. Each man carried on his face a maddened expression; an expression of desire, hatred and vengeance. What lay in the hearts of these men she could not sense but darkness consumed their thoughts.
Standing before them was a nude woman. Her body was tight with muscle, the body of a female warrior. Her hair danced in the wind and looked like fields of corn in a sway. From forth her eyes emanated a light blue, eerie light. Her arms were stretched out before her and her hands were upturned and cusped, in a summoning motion.
Drawing close behind the nude woman came a draped, dark figure. Taller it grew and more menacing. In its clenched hand it held a sword of enormous weight and strength. It shone beautifully and sparkled magically.
In that moment, with great clarity drawing upon her mind did Phoebe finally understand all that had been happening. She was at the Vatican. The assault she witnessed had been the arrival of Wyatt upon the great city. Beyond the gates lay Rome in ruin, pillaged and burning once again.
Phoebe stepped away from the door and crept towards the courtyard, towards the army her nephew had brought. She stepped on the bodies and bones of those who's lives were lost to this menace. Before her the nude woman's eyes, like a lighthouse in their luminescence, closed and reopened without the stream of light.
Wyatt stepped in front of the woman and brought the sword high into the sky. The sword was Excalibur; promised to him at a young age. He wielded it not with the grace and benevolence it was intended to be ruled through but rather with force and greed. Wyatt brought the sword from above his head and aimed it at Phoebe.
An invisible, sharp force struck Phoebe violently. She now lay on the ground, immobile save for the blinking of her eyes. She closed them for a moment to concentrate on those around her. The hundred that lay inside the Church's rooms feared desperately for their lives. Wyatt's army thirsted for blood and the high of victory.
As Phoebe's eyes opened a profound longing came to her mind. Past the army and refugees, far below her came an intense yearning. A yearning for freedom. That feeling, though overwhelming, was shadowed by a dark ominous tone. Before she could grasp it, before her mind could connect with the emotions and thoughts of this foreign presence; Phoebe's eyes opened to the image of Excalibur's point coming down onto her head.