Find out what’s happening
Everyone around you, one-by-one became eerily silent as more people heard the shrieks and cries. You were disorientated for a moment, but as the sounds continued, you were able to determine the direction they were coming from, turned your head, and saw swathes of thick smoke rising up into the air.
You dropped the heavy sack that was on your shoulder and started running as fast as you could toward the commotion. Your clothing wasn’t made for speed, but you did the best you could.
Soon, the estate came into view. You could see the flames through the trees. Everything, everything was on fire.
You kept running toward the gate. It was shut and wrapped in chains. It was too high to climb.
You grabbed the bars, shoved the gate, and yelled in frustration.
“Young master! Chef! Anyone!”
It took a moment to realize what was happening. The fires were so bright that all you could see were the silhouettes of people running around.
You started to shake and sob uncontrollably as you clenched the bars too tightly. This wasn’t a kitchen fire or a tipped over lamp. This was an attack.
This was war.
“Traitors!” you screamed once you found your nerve. “Traitors! We chose peace! We paid the price and we chose peace! How dare you! How dare you! Do you know who I am! Do you know what I sacrificed? Do you? My wife. Her family. My child! How dare you!”
You felt the deep need to get through the gate. You threw your shoulder at the bars near the center over and over again and continued to scream until you were hoarse, but it was no use.
You crumpled into ball at the foot of the gate, feeling the heat of the fires and people screaming and yelling.
“Tutor,” you heard a familiar voice say. “You came back.”
“Young master!” you exclaimed as you looked up to see a demon, a red glowing, naked thing.
“They tried to kill me, but I don’t think it worked. I’m scared.”
He was the young master, but his skin looked like there was light underneath it. Small scraps of charred clothing lifted from his body due to the air currents created by heat. His hair was burning away, creating a horrific stench.
“What’s happening to me? My back hurts. I feel cold. Am I a ghost now?”
“I don’t know what you are,” you blurted out, trying to remain calm and convince yourself that you weren’t delusional.
Save him
Run
