A/N: This story takes place before my primary Origins story, and introduces the major characters. I made this a separate story for a few reasons, the first of which being that I had already typed them up before I realized that I really didn't want them as a part of my main story. The reason I didn't want them in story is because these first few chapters disrupted the flow of the story I had in mind, and I thought that if they were a part of it I would have to change how I wanted it written. But, I already had started and put a decent amount of work into these first few chapters, so I just thought I'll upload them as a short story consisting of the character's origin stories.

Warning: This story is rated T for slightly violent scenes of action and language.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything of the Dragon Age universe. This was created purely for fans by a fan. Read and enjoy!

Gathering Heroes

Chapter Four: Fall of Highever

"Men's hearts hold shadows darker than any tainted creature."

This couldn't be happening.

After the party, Michael had bid his brother farewell, spent time with his family, put in put in a bit of light exercise, and then collected Shera and went to sleep. She had awoken him with her furious barking, and he heard the chaotic sounds outside. Michael had grabbed his sword and opened his door in time to see a guard taken down by a crossbow bolt. He and Shera had managed to dispatch most of the assailants, his mother arriving and taking down the last of them with her bow.

The horrifying thing was the soldiers' heraldry. It was that of the Arl of Amaranthine. Castle Highever was under assault by the Arl's men.

At least, they had believed that was the most horrifying thing, until he and mother had seen the door to Fergus's room was agape. When they entered, they had found Oriana and Oren lying dead on the ground, their bodies slashed and mutilated.

Michael felt as if the ground had been pulled out from underneath him. It was impossible, unimaginable, that they could be dead. These kinds of things only happened to other people, or in stories and tales, not his home.

Yet no matter how much he denied it, they were still dead, killed at the hands of the men under the command of their father's trusted friend. His mother collapsed to her knees, hands grasping at her grandson's corpse, desperately begging him to rise. His blood stained her hands, her legs, her face she pressed her head to his chest, sobbing.

"Mother, we have to move." His voice was choked with pain, and tears fell from his eyes. Shera whined, moving into the room and gently licking Oren's lifeless face. His mother screamed in grief, wrapping Oren in her arms and rocking back and forth.

"Please, Maker, no! Give him back, please, give him back!" She pressed her forehead to his, weeping. "Give him back, give him back, give him back!" Michael kneeled down, placing his hand on her shoulder.

"Mother, we must go. There is nothing we can do." It took every ounce of his willpower to keep from breaking down, to keep himself together long enough to escape this nightmare.

"Why? Why would he do this? We trusted him." She whispered, gazing into Oren's face. Michael shook his head, the same question running through his mind.

"I don't know Mother." He gazed into his nephew's bloodied face, and it felt as if someone had stabbed his heart. She gently set Oren's body back on the ground, one of her tears falling free and landing on his face.

"I swear to the Maker, he will pay for this. That treacherous bastard will face justice for this!" She snarled, her voice becoming steely with determination. Slowly she rose, but not before planting one final kiss on Oren's forehead. "Goodbye, my little Oren."

Glancing at his nephew and sister-in-law one last time, Michael and his mother turned away from the horrible sight. However, it still haunted their minds, as it probably would for the rest of their days.

They carved their way through more Amaranthine soldiers, their fury and pain giving them strength. Michael ducked under the sword of an attacker and slashed his dagger across the man's throat, not even staying to watch the man fall. He leapt sideways, intercepting the path of another trying to get to his mother. The man yelled in fury, raising his greatsword to attack. Before he could, Shera leapt up and snapped onto his arm, pulling him back and allowing Michael to plunge his blade into the man's stomach.

Another nearby fell, an arrow protruding from his eye. The last soldier, realizing he was alone, turned to flee, but his mother didn't let them get away. With a twang from her bow, she loosed an arrow that caught him in the back of the knee, bringing him to the ground. Michael rushed forward, kicking the man and rolling him over.

"Please, sir, don-" Michael stabbed his sword into the man's throat, ending his pleading. Despite finishing this group of soldiers, noise continued from just nearby. The three of them quickly rounded a corner to see a servant trying to escape a pair of soldiers.

He was scrambling across the ground, and the soldiers laughed loudly as one of them viciously kicked him, sending him sprawling sideways. "Where you going, knife-ear?" He sneered, and his companion laughed loudly, giving the elf another kick.

"Let's get rid of this trash, eh?" Jeered the first one, raising his sword to strike down the poor elf. Before he could strike, however, a blast of violet light streaked through the air, striking him in the back and knocking him to the ground.

"Hey, leave him alone!" Michael looked to the end of the hall and gasped. Selene stood with a staff held tightly in both hands, magical energy crackling around its edges.

The attacker still on his feet began laughing, twirling his sword in an obvious threat. "Or what? You gonna zap me, little girl? Get up you idiot." He kicked at his downed companion, who slowly clambered to his feet.

They both began advancing on Selene, who gripped her staff tighter. "Stay back! I'm warning you!" She cried, backing away from them. She released another blast of violet light, but the soldiers ducked around it and continued closing in on her. Without thinking, Michael dashed forward, ignoring his mother's cry. He had to stop them, or Selene would become just another body on the ground, like his nephew and sister-in-law. He wasn't going to let these bastards have more victims, not if he could stop it.

The soldiers were closing in, and Selene had backed into a wall. "This is your last chance." She whispered, gazing at them with wide eyes. The larger one laughed, and raised his sword.

"Let's get rid of that little stick, and you and us have some fun." He sneered, and lunged forward. Selene reacted quickly, pointing her staff and releasing her magic. A stream of electricity rushed forward, striking the man in his chest. He convulsed violently, and fell back to the ground, the blue energy crackling along his armor.

The second soldier cried out in rage and lashed out with his sword, but she slammed her staff on the ground, releasing a massive wave of force. Michael's charge was halted as he was caught up the wave of energy, which knocked back and sent him crashing to the ground.

His head snapped against the ground, and the pain made his mind go blank for several moments. A haze of light and sound filled his head, and his eyes refused to focus. Slowly, a face materialized through the haze, gazing at him with concern from within a curtain of blonde waves.

"Hold still, Ser Cousland." Selene said, her voice sounding unusually far away. "You got caught in that telekinetic blast of mine, and cracked your head against the floor." He was growing more aware of a warm touch against the back of his head, and the faint blue glow floating up in his peripheral vision.

"Idiot!" His mother hissed, glaring viciously down at him. "What were you thinking, running off like that?" If looks could kill, he would have far more problems than a bump on the head.

"I don't know, Mother. I wasn't thinking." He sat up as Selene pulled her hand away, the ache in his head fading. However, a sharp pain shot up in its place as his mother slapped him across the back of the head.

"Of course you weren't thinking! You could have been killed!" She screamed, face turning red with fury. "We need to get out of this castle alive, Michael, and this isn't going to happen if you go running off like a fool!"

Before she could continue, Selene raised her hands, trying to calm his mother. "Please, this isn't a good time to argue." Her face was pleading, and she continued flicking her eyes back to the two dead soldiers.

His mother's exhaled loudly, apparently accepting that what the mage said was true. Michael pulled himself to his feet, moving over to where his blades had fallen. The sounds of battle still echoed distantly throughout the castle, though the immediate fight was over.

"What do we do now?" He asked, turning towards his mother. She thought about it for several moments, before something came to mind.

"We need to get to the treasury. The family sword is in there, and I refuse to let that treacherous bastard get his hands on it." She finished with a snarl, her fists clenched tightly. Michael felt the same fury, and nodded his head fiercely.

"Let's go." The four of them set out through the castle, heading down towards the treasury. Selene proved to be quite the person to have on one's side, as her powers were phenomenal. She summoned barriers and shields to protect them, summoned burst of fire, and healed any small injuries they sustained through her willpower alone. She and his mother settled at the back of the battlefield while Michael and Shera fought in the front, the four of them tearing a path through the chaos of the castle until they finally reached the treasury.

"Here is the key." His mother said, drawing it from her belt. Quickly, she unlocked the heavy metal door and they entered the treasury. Surrounding them were all the various riches that his family had accumulated throughout the centuries that they had ruled over Highever. Michael felt familiar pride in his family, and fury that Howe's jealousy would drive him to this.

His mother moved towards a sturdy looking door at the back of the room. "What room is this?" Michael asked stepping close to her. His mother gave him a quick glance and then turned back to the door, looking thoughtful.

"This is our family's personal store room. All of our most treasured items are behind this door." She raised her hands and removed the glove on her right hand. As always, her ring finger was adorned with her Cousland family ring. "The ruling Teryn and Teryna are always given this ring, but it's more than just a ring. It's also a key."

She closed her fingers into a fist and pressed the ring into a slot where the handle would be. A series of clicking sounds came from the door, and then, it opened. "The door is dwarven made, virtually impregnable by anyone who isn't wanted." She said, almost wistfully, before moving into the room.

It was a small room, probably barely able to fit the four of them. Inside were various little things, paintings, jewels, books, arms, and in the center, a large chest. His mother moved to the sword and shield hanging over the chest. "Michael, take these. I know it'll weigh you down more than you're used to, but you should be able to carry them along with the weapons you already have." Michael nodded, placing the weapons on his back and adjusting them so that he would still move well.

His mother then bent down to the chest, unlocking it with her ring. She reached inside and drew a few small booklets and envelopes, and a sizeable coin purse, placing them in her pack. Shouldering the bag, she turned to him with a determined look. "Alright, let's go."

Michael turned about to see Selene still hovering near the door, gazing around the room in awe, blue eyes filling her face. Shera stood beside her, looking anxious, her hackles still slightly raised.

"You heard her. Let's move." Michael said, moving past the two of them. The two followed him and his mother out of the treasury and into the hall. "Mother, I think we should head to the main hall, and see if Father is there." She nodded, and they set out, rushing towards the main hall.

When they arrived, the saw chaos. Ser Gilmore and three other castle guards were facing at least ten Howe soldiers. His mother quickly drew an arrow and released it with a twang, bringing down an unsuspecting soldier. As soon as he was down, several others turned about and rushed for the new enemies.

Michael would have rushed into the fray if he hadn't noticed something that made his blood run cold. One of the soldiers wasn't carrying weapons or wearing armor. Instead, she wore robes, and was surrounded by crackling energy. She was a mage, like Selene.

The mage began moving her hands about, summoning some kind of spell that she cast forward with a shout. Michael tried to pull himself out of the way, but his limbs refused to move, and he watched as the swirling bolt of energy headed straight towards him. At the last moment, a wall of blue light appeared between Michael and the spell, absorbing the magical attack.

"Don't just stand there!" Selene shouted from behind him. "You help the others, I'll hold her off!" She stepped forward, and she and the mage began to duel, attacking and defending with bright flourishes of power. Michael rushed to Gilmore's assistance, cutting down an unsuspecting soldier before crossing blades with another. This wasn't a training session, this was a battle to win or die.

He ducked sideways as his enemy brought his sword slashing down, and Michael then lashed out with his dagger, attempting to disarm the Howe soldier. Before he could land a hit, however, a sharp pain erupted in his shoulder, and he yelled in pain and shock. The Howe soldier that had snuck up behind him yanked the blade out of his left shoulder, and then readied himself for the final blow.

Before he could strike, an arrowhead erupted from his throat, and he collapsed to the ground, spluttering and coughing up mouthfuls of blood. Michael didn't look up to thank his mother, instead whirling about and clumsily blocking the attack from his original enemy. Now that he was injured, he was steadily being forced backwards, his injured arm barely able to be of any use.

The Amaranthine invader was pressing his advantage, and Michael already had a few shallow cuts and scrapes from strikes that were only just avoided. Finally, the soldier knocked aside Michael's sword and kicked him hard, throwing him to the ground. His enemy laughed triumphantly, and readied himself for the kill. His sword plunged forward, heading to pierce Michael's chest...only to meet a shimmering barrier of energy, a wall of blue light protecting his chest by holding the sharp point of the sword back.

Michael gasped, the fact that there was no pain, no death, forcing paralyzing him with shock. He flicked his wide eyes to Selene, who stood with her hands raised, a look of intense concentration on her face. "Hurry, Ser Cousland! Get out of the way!" Heeding her words, Michael rolled sideways and pulled himself to his feet. He retreated away from the fight, pressing a hand to his injured shoulder. Blood was rushing between his fingers, and pain burned through his nerves.

He watched as Selene turned back to the mage, who was pulling herself off of the ground with a snarl. Selene fired off a blast of energy, and she nimbly darted sideways, retaliating with a blast of fire. Selene unleashed her own blast of fire, which crashed into her opponents and canceled it out in a swirl of dying flames.

The two mages stared each other down, each crackling with power as they prepared to attack. The other mage struck first, lashing out with a bolt of energy. Selene blocked the spell and fired back her own, beginning a quick dance of blocks and dodges, flashes of light and power filling the room. The two of them were evenly matched, with Selene blocking the other mage's spells and the other mage dodging hers.

Finally, Selene launched a fireball that exploded near her feet and threw the mage into the air, tossing her backwards. She struggled to rise, but at that moment an arrow found a home in her throat, and she fell to the ground, clutching feebly at it before dying. The fight was almost over, with Ser Gilmore dispatching one last soldier.

Selene approached Michael, placing a hand on arm. "Hold still, and brace yourself. This won't feel nice." She said gently, before working to summon some kind of spell.

"What won't feel-" He was cut off as she began healing his injured shoulder. It was extremely discomforting, quite a bit different than the shallow cuts she had healed earlier. Torn muscle and flesh slowly knitted itself back together with a painfully itchy sensation. Michael made to squirm, but she squeezed his arm hard.

"Don't move." Selene said sternly, brow furrowed in concentration. After a few moments, the sensation stopped, and he felt warm relief spread through him. Slowly, he rolled his shoulder, testing it for any problems. To his shock, it was perfectly fine. When he stared into the space gap in his armor that had allowed the injury, he didn't even see mark other than the new pink skin. "I'm not the greatest healer, but that should be enough."

"Oh, it's more than enough." Michael breathed, raising his arm in disbelief. That injury should have left his arm permanently impaired, never able to regain its full motion. Yet here he stood, practically unharmed.

"My Lord! My Lady! Thank the Maker you still live!" Ser Gilmore cried, approaching them with a face filled with relief.

"Barely. Where is my father?" Michael said harshly, his rage returning. All he wanted to do was find his father and get, and then return to Howe for his vengeance. Gilmore slowly shook his head, face paling.

"I don't know, my lord. When we last saw him, he was already wounded. I think he headed towards the servant's exit in the larder. He probably hoped to meet the two of you there." He said slowly. Michael felt the chasm underneath him grew larger at the knowledge that his father was injured. His father couldn't be dead, he just couldn't.

"Please, you must go. I don't know how much longer we can hold the gate." Ser Gilmore said anxiously. His eyes kept flicking back to the guards holding the doors against the tremendous force crashing into it from the outside.

His mother nodded her head, looking at Gilmore with tear filled eyes. "Thank you, Ser Gilmore. May the Maker watch over you." She whispered, gently gripping Michael's arm and pulling him away.

"May He watch over us all." Ser Gilmore said solemnly, before they exited the room and headed down the halls. Michael knew Ser Gilmore, and all of those knights would die. There was no way that they could stop Howe's soldiers from entering, and there were too few of them to defeat them. More death, more people he knew falling victim to this treachery. He felt a stab in his heart at the loss of his good friend.

They were approaching the larder when several more soldiers appeared, including one of Howe's knights. They were battling two Highever guards, and had them seriously outnumbered. Michael rushed forward, plunging his dagger into a gap in one's armor. The Amaranthine soldier cried out in pain as Michael threw him to the ground, wrenching his blade out of the man's side. Another soldier turned to face him, and Michael lashed out with his sword.

The soldier reacted quickly, raising his own blade and deflecting the strike. They exchanged several blows before Michael spun around a stab at his side, raising his dagger and slashing the man across his throat. Turning about, he observed the fight for a few moments. Shera was engaged in a fearsome battle with another mabari, the two of them fighting amongst the fallen soldiers.

However, his mother was being targeted by one of the invaders. He was forcing her to retreat, as he was too close to get a good shot in with her bow, and every strike he made was only just avoided. Michael rushed forward hoping to help her, but Howe's knight lunged in front of him. The man raised his massive battle axe, swinging it for Michael's head.

Michael ducked back, trying to back away from the hulking knight, but the man was quicker than he looked, and lashed out with a powerful kick. The blow slammed into Michael's chest, throwing him backwards and to the ground. The impact was enough to force the air from his lungs, and he lost his grip on his sword, which slid just out of his arm's reach.

The knight slammed a foot down on his chest, pinning Michael to the floor. "Time to die, little boy." He growled, before raising his axe high. Michael knew the strike would slice right through his skull, and that he couldn't move out of the way this time.

Suddenly, a huge brown shape hurtled over him, crashing into the knight and dragging him to the ground. Lady snarled as she jumped off the man's chest, getting behind him and gripping his helmet. Yanking the protective covering off of his head, she then lunged for his exposed throat, gripping him just under his chin.

The knight's screams were quickly silenced as the old hound tore his throat out, leaving him slowly bleeding on the ground. Growling, the hound whipped around and rushed for the soldier attacking his mother. Lady jumped up and gripped his sword as he raised it to strike, and his mother took the time gained to draw an arrow with her hand and plunged it into the man's neck.

Shera, who had finished her opponent and then moved on to a human target, looked up from the mess she was making of an Amaranthine soldier. His mother quickly rushed past the downed men, heading for the kitchen door not far down the hall.

As soon as the opened the doors, they saw that the soldiers had already beat them to the kitchen. Nan and her servants were lying dead on the ground, bodies slashed open. By now, Michael had become almost numb to the death and destruction filling his home.

Almost.

He didn't have time to mourn Nan's death, not now. He had to find his father and get out of this death trap. Michael rushed for the larder, just a step behind his mother. The pushed open the door to enter the small room, looking around for his father. When he spotted him, it took him several seconds to comprehend what he was looking at.

Bryce Cousland laid spread out on the ground, desperately trying to stem the bleeding from a deep wound in his side. He was covered in blood, and a pool of it was slowly spreading out underneath him. "There you both are! I was...wondering, when you would get here."

"Bryce!" His mother cried. They rushed over to him, crouching down close to him. "Maker's blood, what's happened? You're bleeding!"

"Howe...I was still meeting with him when his men attacked. He...he made sure he was...the one to get me. I barely managed to...to get away." His father said slowly, panting and coughing in pain. Michael simply stared in shock, watching as his father's blood slowly spread across the stones.

"Why?" He whispered. "Why would he do this to us?"

His father turned to him. "I don't know, but he...he can't get away with this. The king will-" He was cut off by a violent cough, and blood slowly trickled from the corner of his mouth.

"Bryce! We must get you out of here!" His mother cried, gently gripping his father's shoulders.

His father slowly shook his head. "I...I won't survive the standing, I think." No. This couldn't be happening. His father couldn't be dying, it just couldn't be happening.

"No! You'll be alright, Father, we just need to get you out of here!" He cried, shaking his head stubbornly. He would drag his father out of here if he had to.

His mother shook her head to, her eyes widening. "Once Howe's men break through the gates, they will find us. We must go!" She was glancing back at the door, as if waiting for them to spring through.

"Someone...must reach Fergus...tell him what's happened." His father said earnestly, struggling to force his words out through the pain. Michael pictured his brother, the pain of him learning about what had been done to his wife and child.

"Then we can back this bastard pay." Michael snarled, gripping his sword tightly. They would all get out of here, and then his family would pay back that bastard ten times over.

"Bryce, the servant's passage is right here! We can escape, get you healing magic!" His mother begged, grabbing his hands and trying to get him to find the will to rise.

"The castle's surrounded." He said sadly. "I won't make it." Michael refused to believe it, and yet the puddle of blood underneath his father was slowly growing larger and larger.

"No! Father, you have to get up! We can get you out of here!" Michael begged. He had to get up, because if he didn't...Michael couldn't even bear to think of it.

"I'm afraid the Teryn is correct." Michael snapped around to see Duncan walking into the room, Selene trailing behind him. "Howe's men have not yet discovered this exit, but they surround the castle. Getting past them will be difficult." He said sadly, looking down at Michael's father.

Duncan and his parents exchanged a few words, but Michael didn't listen. Instead, he stared at Selene, an idea blooming. Selene was a mage, and she could heal...she could heal his father!

He lurched forward, tightly gripping her arm. Selene yelped, flicking her shocked eyes to him. "You! You can heal him, you can heal my father!" He nearly shouted. At his words, his mother looked to Selene with similar desperate hope.

"I-I can try." Selene said, approaching his father with wide eyes. Slowly, she extended her hands, and a shimmering blue light materialized, spreading out across his father's injured side. Selene screwed up her face in concentration for several moments, but nothing seemed to be happening.

"What's going on?! Why isn't it working?" Michael cried. Selene looked back to him with wide eyes.

"It...the wound is poisoned." She said slowly, shaking her head. "I cannot heal an injury like this." Michael felt as if he had been stabbed in the gut as the realization hit him.

His father was going to die.

His father seemed to come to that realization at the same time as Michael did. "Duncan...you are under no obligation to me, but I beg you...take my wife and son to safety!" Bryce asked desperately, looking at Duncan with pleading eyes.

"I will, your Lordship. But...I fear I must ask for something in return." Duncan said slowly.

"Anything!" His father replied instantly.

"What is happening here pales in comparison to the evil that is now loose in this world. I came to your castle seeking a recruit. The darkspawn threat demands I leave with one." Duncan's voice was firm and insistent. What was he talking about? What did the darkspawn have to do with helping them escape?

A shadow passed across his father's face. "I...I understand."

Duncan nodded solemnly. "Very well. I will take the Teryna and you son to Ostagar, and tell Fergus and the king what has happened. Then, Michael joins the Grey Wardens." What? Michael wasn't going to become a Grey Warden. He had a duty as a Cousland.

"So long as justice comes to Howe," His father said slowly. "I agree." Duncan nodded firmly, and turned to look at Michael.

"Then I offer you a place within the Grey Wardens. Fight with us." Duncan's tone was urgent as he gazed intensely at Michael.

Michael shook his head firmly, glaring at the older man. "No! My job is to take revenge on that back-stabbing bastard, not join your order!" He nearly shouted, unwilling to do anything other than what he said. There was no way that he was going to go join some order of warriors, not while Howe still lived.

Duncan simply stared firmly at him. "We will inform the king, and he will punish Howe. I'm sorry, but a Grey Warden's duties take precedence even over vengeance."

His father spoke up again. "Howe thinks he'll use the chaos to advance himself. Make him wrong pup. See that justice is done." He stopped for a moment, and his next words were choked with emotion. "Our family always does our duty first. The darkspawn must be defeated." He looked pleadingly into Michael's eyes. "You must go, for your sake and for Ferelden's!"

His father was right. He was a Cousland, and these darkspawn could destroy all of Ferelden. "You...you are right, Father. I will do my duty, for you."

Duncan rose to his feet, nodding solemnly. "Then we must go, and quickly."

"Bryce, are you sure?" His mother asked, her voice cracking with despair. His father nodded firmly.

"Yes. Our son will not fall to Howe's treachery." He looked up firmly at both of them. "He will live, and make his mark on the world." Tears welled up in his father's eyes, and he bowed his head. Michael rose up, feeling his own eyes blur with tears. He reached out a hand to help his mother rise, but she simply shook her head, looking sadly up at him.

"Darling, go with Duncan. You have a better chance of escaping without me." No. She couldn't be asking this of him, it wasn't possible.

"Eleanor-" His father began, but his mother quickly cut him off.

"Hush, Bryce." She said, turning to look at him with tear filled eyes. "I'll kill every bastard that comes through that door to by them time, but I won't abandon you!" She said firmly, in a tone that left no room for argument. However, Michael couldn't accept this.

"No, Mother! Please, we can leave together!" She turned back to him, and he looked pleadingly into her eyes. "Please...please don't make me leave you behind, too." His voice broke, and the tears began falling down his face. His mother shook her head slowly, her face a mask of despair.

"I'm sorry. But my place is with your father, at his side to death and beyond. Please my son, you must get to safety." She shoved her pack into his arms, and then wrapped her arms tightly around him. "I love you, my darling boy." Michael felt the knife in his heart twisting and wrenching, as if his soul was being slowly torn out. Slowly, she pulled back from him, tears falling down her face. "Now go, while you still can."

"I'm so sorry it's come to this, my love." His father choked out as she knelt down by him again.

"We had a good life, and did all we could." His mother said gently, holding his shoulders as he coughed violently. "It's up to our children now."

"Then go Pup. Warn your brother." A deafening crash echoed throughout the halls, followed by shouting and the sounds of more battle. "Know that we love you both, and make us proud." Duncan reached down and gripped Michael's shoulder, pulling him to his feet.

"They broken through the gates, we must go now!" Duncan urged, pulling him towards the door. Michael simply stared into the room as he was pulled backwards. He watched as Lady crouched down in front of his parents, ready to spring, and his mother raised her bow, aiming for the door.

"Goodbye, my son." Shadows enveloped him as they entered the passage, and Michael finally turned and began to run, leaving his home and his parents behind him.