As the horrid flames in the village left by the bandits consumed the town they began to creep ever so slowly into the forest. That slowness however did not last. As soon as the flame connected to the root of one tree it climbed into the treetops and extended it's ever destructive grip throughout the entire forest. Barron, having no other choice, searched for a way out of what had seconds ago been his sanctuary. With his lungs grasped tightly by the smoke he weaved through the burning labyrinth of pines and oaks. Never had Barron imagined the smell of burning wood as anything but the times with his family. Now a once fond memory will be tainted for as long as he lives.
Finally making it to the now scorched dirt road the young boy looked at the two paths that had once been given to him. The first was blocked, made inaccessible by a wall of flame. The second, while on fire, was the bridge. Climbing up the hills path to the bridge he had once played on with the other children he thought of one thing, his family. Yes, while most people would have ran away from the burning town Barron ran towards it. Hoping that someway, somehow his family was alive.
Dead bodies littered the hill. The fear of seeing the burnt and stabbed bodies that once held so much life within their eyes motionless on the ground only caused the boy to close his own eyes and run faster as he entered the bridge, tears streaming down his face.
When he opened his eyes again he was at his home, and just like everything else he once held dear it was set ablaze. Once he finally turned his eyes away from the horrid scene fate made them lay their sight on another. There, laying on the ground in a pool of his own blood, was Brom.
Silently Barron walked towards his father in disbelief. No longer able to stand from the feelings of both denial and despair the boy collapsed next to his father letting out a loud anguished scream as he sobbed into his father's now cold chest. The poor boy was not given any time to grieve however. Hearing a monstrous scream Barron looked up only to see a bandit charging at him with an ax as he laughed with maniacal glee.
Once again shocked into petrification Barron watched the man run towards him. However, just as Barron's mind allowed him to realize he was going to die a strange bluish-purple energy hit the bandit from behind and electrified the masked man. When the murderous person fell and collapsed a new person came into view. He was old, dark skinned, and had white hair. Despite this hint of normalcy he was terrifyingly peculiar as parts of his face was illuminated with powerful blue markings.
Walking towards Barron the man said in a cold voice, "We must leave. It's not safe here."
"They're all dead." The man said. As if Barron didn't know. As if he didn't just witnessed the massacre of his entire village. As if it wasn't his own father laying dead right next to him. Barron scowled, got to his feet, and ran over to the man. As soon as he could he threw punch after punch with so much rage that the poor boy failed to see how entirely ineffective they were against the man. The man grabbed the screaming Barron by the shoulder and shook him slightly.
"Come now, don't be ridiculous." The man said in the same cold voice as he removed his hands from Barron's shoulders. Breathing heavily Barron looked up at the strange man with tear stained eyes.
"You don't want to join them do you?"
Reluctantly shaking his head Barron let out a sob, "No."
"Then give me your hand." The man said as he reached out to the boy. With uncertainty clear on his face Barron slowly reached out towards the man. When their hands clasped together a mysterious blue aura surrounded them and took them away from the hell on earth.