The leaves crunched under the boy's shoes, cold biting at his skin, wind slapping his face. Yet he ground his teeth and continued onward. He kept on running.

Far.

Too far.

Too long.

This journey would have been the most amazing of ventures to him had the circumstances been different. But now was not the time for regrets.

He had to find them.

He had to do something.

Because...even if it hurt him to death, this was a reality he had to confront. This was his only chance. Their only chance.

For he no longer had home.

None of them had.

"STOP!" A sharp tone cut through the looming stillness of time. It broke something within the frame of tension, and the frozen world seemed to start moving again.

That voice.

Life came flooding back inside Beatrice as she heaved and gasped for breath. For a moment she had become as still as a rock. Fear had choked her.

"Jonathan!" All the girls screamed. Beatrice looked at Orlando smirking.

"He maybe keeping his bones after all," he ended with a grunt.

Beatrice turned to see Jonathan stand at the other end of the bridge, now rapidly advancing in their direction. Two other girls accompanied him.

Grace seethed at the sight, Beatrice could tell. She put a hand on her shoulder.

The thought of seeing her closest friend being potentially manipulated did not sit well with Grace, Beatrice gauged. It had overtaken her otherwise calm and caring nature. But was that the truth? Or was that something borne of a cautious and speculative mind? Only the events following would tell. Beatrice was not going to judge somebody she had never even met with baseless accusations. However, their condition and the present turn of events begged her to differ. Yet she was somehow holding on to hope. Two villages could not successively turn out to be malicious, right? But what else would one call this present situation?

"Fathers, please! You have the wrong ones! They are not the same villagers as before!" Beatrice heard one girl say.

The man clapping his hands manically turned to face her. He hooded himself back and calmed his attitude. One of the others standing all around him, spoke. "Yes, dearest. Do not worry. We have realised their worth. They are too precious to be beheaded, not to mention, they are not the ones who deserve to. Oh, so much more! So much more that there is too see for them! So much more that the future shall have for them in store!"

"It was a grave mistake on our part," said another, nodding.

"We are terribly sorry"- yet another.

Beatrice had again choked on her breath. What was that about! Beheading?! We were going to be beheaded? Her mind spun so fast, she felt as if she would faint. She had no doubt the others felt the same way.

"Brother!" Mary leaped into Jonathan's arms in a fraction of a moment, too fast for Beatrice to even comprehend. "I was so scared! Where did you run off to? You heard, what this old bum said?"

"I don't think I misheard, Mary." His eyes flamed. "But don't worry, we have settled the problem. You are out of harm's way." He smiled.

"Oh my! Who is this?" The hooded figure in the centre shrieked. "Do you all behold the aura surrounding him?"

"Yes we do." Voices murmured all around. "Such dormant potential-", "That dominant presence-", "This boy seems different-", "He's the same as them but more-"- indiscernable as it all may seem in form of a chatter, bits and pieces of it could be heard. Beatrice didn't know what to make out of it. Her stomach turned and the queasiness from earlier returned. She was starting to feel unnaturally scared. Scared of the unknown. Of all the things that she didn't know, possibly couldn't ever know, yet be a puppet to the strings pulled by superior forces. At that moment, everything around her drove her to madness. Her vision jumped at places, breathing quickened. She was losing consciousness. This was all so overbearing.

And then there was Orlando, reaching out to her with his hand passionately wrapping around her and pulling her in close. "It's alright now, " he rubbed her back, "we would be out of here in no time. I'm here. Don't break down. You are not weak."

Beatrice closed her eyes and forced her mind to get a grip. She took in deep breaths, in, out, in, out, and only opened her eyes again when she felt herself ease. And the sight before her was so charming. So heartful. She was awarded by an innocent smile from Orlando. His eyes carried it as well, and it carried in it something so transient that she instantly felt all weight on her aching body lift. It suddenly became so light, she felt as if she hovered above the earth.

A single teardrop fell from her eye, tracing a line over her cheek, she broke into a smile and fell onto Orlando's chest. He ran his hand in slow waves over her back and comforted her.

"I need explanations." She suddenly heard a loud voice. It was Grace. "Why don't you start with some answers? I can't tolerate this any longer. We deserve to know the situation. An-and this 'dark aura'. It's the second time we came across hearing it. What is it? How is it related to us? What makes it so special?"

"Wait, the second time?" The other girl spoke, of the two accompanying Jonathan.

"We got into a bit of a situation before we got here. But by any means, it was not as grave as this one," Grace presented in a controlled tone.

Quietude descended all around the temple. All that could be heard was the wind blowing through the leaves, and the waterfalls in the background.

"What happened?" Grace's voice seemed to lose volume as the sudden silence unsettled her. Her composure was now a bit less stiff, her eyes losing the glare as that of a wolf, and becoming more like that of some animal freshly wounded, but still refusing to back down.

Another moment passed with no replies.

"We have to have a long discussion, O chosen ones! Come with us. Dearest, could we have a place to-"

"Why of course! I know just the place. Please follow me, fathers," said the girl who had spoken first.

"Very well then. After you," the old man gestured at them to follow the two girls and Jonathan.

What is happening? Beatrice got up. Orlando helped her.

"This had better not be a trap," Orlando glared.

"We mean no harm. You can be assured," the men gave a very eerie chuckle.

"V-very well." Orlando gulped, took Beatrice's hand and walked with her.

"Grace, I would clear everything once we have a proper place to sit and talk," Jonathan said a bit ahead of them. Mary trailed close to his back.

"Why not now? What's keeping you?"

"It's important to speak these things over with utmost detail," said the girl close to Jonathan. "We have some things there in the village that would help you to understand everything properly. Plus, please let us court you. It was awfully disgraceful for us to let you be treated so indignantly." Her voice was very polite.

Grace did not trust the girl one bit, Beatrice could tell by just glancing at her countenance. But Grace did not say anything back to her. And like that, the rest of the journey passed in relative silence. An unbearable silence that lasted too long.

Upon reaching the village, the first thing Grace heard were screams. Fear. So deeply ingrained in the voices that it terrified even her.

They hastened to the site to behold a mass of people in disarray- running, calling and in a frenzy of motion both disorienting and disturbing. What's all this now... Goodness, I can't take this anymore. Grace rubbed her face with her palms and tried to remain calm. She was just exhausted. Too much so to deal with this, and now.

"What is all this?" One of the guards spoke, walking briskly in front and interrogating a villager.

"They are back! Where were you!" She was sobbing. "Those fierce eyes...I'm certain we'd burn dead today."

"We would take it from here. Where are they?"

The girl sniffed. "Over there, in that barn. They are taking all the wooden planks. That must be the last ingredient. They would have no use for us anymore."

"Don't fall apart. We would contain them. This time they won't be able to run away," another guard said, her voice icy.

"These are the bandits you took us for?" Grace put out flatly.

"Yes miss," she kept it short.

Jonathan came close to Grace and offered her his hand, which she took delightfully. Soft steps placed stealthily, and eyes on the target, they advanced all in coordination.

When they were close enough and about to burst right in with the element of surprise, it backfired. Literally.

Out came a bottle of fire, glowing, ready to burst. And soon followed by others, showering down on them-

-like shooting stars.

It was a beautiful sight while it lasted, a frame forever to be engraved in the mind; yet Grace could feel how haunting an image it would become once each of them fell on the ground.

And a moment later, the grass burst into a deadly fire.