The night began, cold and snowy. A small motel at the edge of the kingdom stood aglow in the frozen night. Many families lay asleep inside, struggling to stay warm.

In one room is a family of three. A woman, Monique, a man, Castor, and their four year old daughter, Alex. Alex was their pride and joy. She took after her mother, except for her eyes.

In another room, on the other side of the motel, slept a family of four. A man, Dustin, a woman, Julia, their eight year old daughter, Love, and their six year old son, Logan. Love was their definition of pride, while Logan was their definition of joy.
Something was going to happen, and nobody would be prepared.

A man, tall and firm, walked in through the back door. He traveled down the hall, straight to the kitchen.

The chef was cooking a breakfast for the next morning, for it was a day to celebrate. The royal family would be coming to celebrate the young prince's birthay. The man stepped into the kitchen, walked up behind the chef. The man grabbed the chef by the neck, causing him to fall unconscious. The tall man grabbed a apron, turned the stove all the way up, causing the apron to catch fire. The man cackled as he took some olive oil, dumping it until it reached the lobby. He dropped the apron on the oil, and walked out to look for his victoms.

The fire seemed to be everywhere at once. The building had been evacuated, except for a few people.

She lay asleep in her small room, curled up under the thick blankets. She hadn't yet unpacked her stuff, so it was all still in its small bag.

    An ear piercing shriek awoke her. Her silver eyes, half open, saw light dancing outside the door. She smelt smoke. It burned her eyes, making her blind while trying to suffocate her. She then noticed that something was climbing up the door. Fire!

    She leapt out of bed, still in her pj's. She grabbed her bag, slipped on her boots, and ran to the door before the door was completely enflamed. She froze at the scene that spread out before her. Her mother, Monique, standing on the bed completely clothed, a figure slowing drifting towards her, her father lay on the floor a pool of red surrounding his head as fire crept up his clothes, a golden handle seemed to be stuck in his abdomen.

    She cried out, trembling in fear as tears rolled down her cheeks. The figure turned towards her, startled at first, then he cackled. He lifted his hand, chanted an incantation, and suddenly a dagger as long as her forearm appeared out of thin air. He threw it with almost perfect aim. She almost missed it. It skimmed her arm, leaving a pinky-finger wide cut on her arm. Her tears worsened. Her mother looked her in the eyes, green eyes reflecting the fire.

    She saw determination inside those beautiful eyes. But she could tell her mother was afraid, just not willing to show it, trying to give her daughter courage. Her mother tackled the man before he could do any more harm to her. She ran out of the room with her bag over her shoulder, the flames seemed to create a path for her as she fled, knowing she would never forget her mother's screams asshe was burned alive.

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"Go!" He knew those would be the last words he heard his mother ever say to him again. She had told him to find his father and sister.

    He knew she wouldn't make it, but he refused to give up. His mother was trapped under a fallen beam. She had pushed him out of the way at the last second, saving him from being crushed. He tried lifting up the beam, but it wouldn't work. He tried to push it away, but his mother put a hand on his arm.

    She smiled, telling him it would be okay, telling him to go. He looked down at her with tears bristling his lashes. She pulled him into a tight embrace, kissing his cheek for the last time. She showed him away, determined not to let her joy be destroyed in the fire along with her. He made it to the door just as the fire reached her. She cried out in pain, but she had made it clear that she wanted him to leave.

He ran to go find his sister and father. On his way to the entrance to the motel he heard sobbing. He called out, seeing if anyone was there. There was silence.

    Then, a small voice cried out and a young girl about four stumbled into his view. She tripped, and he caught her. He grabbed her arm and she screamed. He looked closer at her. Her arm a huge cut on it and her ankle seemed twisted, as she had been limping. He decided to pick her up, knowing she wouldn't be able to walk. Tears streamed down her face as he carried her away, a small bag clutched in her small hand.

    He made it outside, a man ran up to him. It was his father. His father took the girl from his shaky arms. She was in sooty pj's, black hair tied up in a ponytail, silver eyes glowing with shock and fear. His father said some soothing words to her, telling her she was safe and that she could fall asleep if she wanted.

    His eyes searched for his sister, knowing she could comfort the younger girl. But she was nowhere in sight. His father placed a hand on his shoulder and led him over to the doctor. The doctor asked the girl what happened and where her family was. When she spoke she uttered three simple words that shocked the trio of men:

"Dead. They're dead."

Hey guys. I know this was a short part of the story. But there will be more parts soon. Please recommend, vote and share. Thanks, my dragons!