September 15, 1534
The Rose Estate, Valdemyr

he smell of blood clung to everything. Vikings roamed the mansion with a ferocity rivaling those of Loki's own, hacking at everything in their path. Screams followed me and my brother, Izzrah, as we ran along the narrow hallways, searching for one of the secret hiding places located within the estate. Finally, we stopped before a brick wall, solid and sturdy. Izzrah pressed a spot, and it slid sideways, opening up into a small dark room. My brother pulled me inside, and the wall suddenly closed, shutting us out from the rest of the world.

Izzrah knew that the dark terrify me, and he tried his best to soothe my weak sobs. The air inside the small room felt inadequate, and I found myself laboring for each breath. The wound at my side hurts so much, I thought that I am near death. "Izzrah." I moaned, between tears.

"Isabelle, don't talk. You'll be only making it worse."

"But I want to tell you something before I die."

Izzrah chuckled , hugging me closer. "You're not going to die, you fool." He said, "Twas merely a nick they gave you. It could have been worse." I did not believe him, for how could I when blackness was closing in on you so fast, you barely have enough time to get a word out of your mouth? "Izzrah..." I managed to whisper one more time, then the gods took pity on me and allowed me to fall into the velvety arms of unconsciousness.

"Isabelle, you have to wake up."

A voice. A soothing voice in the vast array of darkness. My immediate thought is of death, but then a searing pain at my side brought me back to reality. I opened my eyes and saw Izzrah looming above me, the ever perpetual smile forming in his mouth. "Izzrah, how could you smile at a time like this?" I groaned, struggling to get up. The world suddenly spun around me, and I quickly slumped to the ground once more. Izzrah placed his warm hand upon my clammy forehead and I saw his blue eyes darkened with concern. "I thought it you said it's just a nick." I rasped, licking my dry lips. Izzrah sighed, "It is, but I'm afraid you're running a fever. Honestly, Isabelle, you pick the worst times to be sick." He complained, arranging the pillows cushioning my head. I felt so sleepy and disoriented that I did not even notice that my brother placed me upon a pallet, nor that my wound is clean and bandaged. Feeling tired, I closed my eyes with the thought of sleep in mind. Izzrah, seeming to read my thoughts, pinched my arm brutally. "Ow!" I protested weakly.

"This is no time to be sleeping, Isabelle. We have to think of a way out."

"Just give me a candlemark, Izzy, just a candlemark..."

"No."

I sighed, forcing myself to keep awake. Besides, Izzrah was right. We need to get out, somehow. We cannot stay secluded in this room forever.

Finally, we gathered up the courage to venture outside our hidden place. When the brick door opened, the sickly sweet smell of death assailed my senses. I buried my face upon Izzrah's arm and obediently followed my brother through the path of mutated corpses and wounded household hands. When I realized where he was going, I gasped. I pulled myself away from him. "Nay, Izzrah!" I said, my voice trembling with fear, for we were steadily making progress to our parent's chamber. Izzrah shook his head and gripped my arm, "We have to know, Isabelle. There is worse pain in living without knowing." I cringed away, but my brother's grip held me in place as he dragged me onward. Reaching out, he opened the door and we both saw the carnage that lay inside...

I saw Father first, sprawled across the floor, a sword in hand. His green Celtic tunic dripped with blood, but when I looked upon his face, I knew that his death brought him honor. He died fighting, and I knew Modi would take him to Valhalla. Then, I saw our dear mother and my heart almost bled with agony. She lay upon the huge bed, stark naked and bruised in several places. A dagger clutched in one hand and both wrists completely severed, I had no doubt that she took her own life. I knew that the Vikings did not kill her, but merely used her for their sick pleasures. I approached the huge bed and stared down at her. Even in death she was perfect, her raven black hair spread out in glossy waves and long eyelahes resting on her pale ivory cheeks. I hated her. Ah mother, I thought bitterly, why must you choose death over your two children who need you so much? Somehow, my emotions projected itself to my brother. Izzrah stood beside me, not saying a word. He placed his arms around me and kissed my forehead, but even the consoling embrace of my brother could not take away the anger and the hurt stabbing at my heart. Nothing will.

We took what was left of the treasures in our parents room; Father's sword with the name 'Rose' etched across the hilt in golden runes, mother's wooden short bow that she uses for target practice, a small pouch containing 100 pieces of gold and a silver steel ring that both Our parents treasure so much. After that we slowly made our way outside. "Hide your face." Izzrah hissed through clenched teeth. I pulled my hood up, understanding that my features were too much like my mother's, that some might recognize it. I sneaked a peek at my brother. He too, was wearing peasant robes like mine, but there is no need to hide his features since he does not look anything like Father nor Mother. In fact, chances are the Vikings might misplace him as one of their own, I thought to myself, studying Izzrah's golden hair and cerulean eyes. Izzrah, feeling my gaze upon him, gave me an reassuring smile, "We'll be all right, Sheenedra," he said, referring to a Shinain word meaning 'two become one'. I bit my lip and thought that we could never be truly 'all right' for the rest of our lives.

We made our way through the gates of the fallen Valdemyr, once a powerful kingdom, now lying in ashes and ruins. Tears were now coursing freely down my face, as I said good-bye to the once beautiful gardens and statues. "Where will we go now?" I asked Izzrah, my voice filled with grief and emotion. Izzrah sighed, "I don't know, Isabelle, but I guess we have to journey east. That is where our relatives are." He said, exhaustion clear in his face and voice. I shuddered, disliking the idea of venturing that far away from Valdemyr. But it is not as if we have a choice.