The next day, my father informed us about the events of the past week. He then told us what we could do to help.

"The attacks started about four weeks ago," He explained, "Just basic raids, but they've been escalating in violence and the garrison is too small to deal with the threat."

Dorrian nodded, "Makes sense. So, what do you need us to do?"

"All I can tell you right now is to be ready for anything. I can't give you a definite answer because there's no telling when they'll attack again-."

He got no further. Unfortunately, while Erisiir has a good history of trading, it wasn't big or wealthy enough for a wall to be built around it.

Bandits rode into the village brandishing swords and bows. The people nearest to us scattered and hurried into the closest building while raising quite the commotion.

"Shit," Thomas growled over the shouts and cries, drawing his sword and leading us into an alleyway, "They've only been going for trading caravans. Why on earth would they aim for the village itself? Why now?"

Dorrian thought for a moment, only to offer a helpless shrug, "I don't know...maybe they got bored with the caravans and decided 'hey, going for the village sounds like a pretty good idea right now.' I'm just as stumped as you-."

My friend paused as he watched me draw my own sword and stride confidently out of the alleyway.

"H-fuck-Bob! Where the hell are you going, mate? Wait, hold your horses you bitch!" Dorrian sputtered as I walked toward the group of bandits.

I was honestly confused as to what the hell I was doing in that moment. Then it hit me.

"This is my home." I growled, "No one messes with it-no one."

I engaged my attackers. Sure, they were on horseback, but if it walks on four legs, take a leg out. Before these fuckers even knew what hit them, they were scrambling to stand back up and face the lone fighter that had just incapacitated their mounts with nothing but their sword.

My father was the first one to teach me the art of fighting with a sword. He was no master duelist, but he still taught me to the best of his abilities. Then Stanford got his hands on me. The training was hell, but I wouldn't have survived countless duels without the knowledge he had bestowed upon me.

I downed my quarry easily. These were inexperienced fighters who only knew how to swing a blade, and nothing else. These fools qualified as cannon fodder as I parried blows and hacked off limbs. My retaliations were swift and brutal: I decapitated one guy, then disemboweled another before turning around swiftly and running my blade through a bandit's chest. Their cries of pain were music to my ears as my sword rose and fell like the Maestro's baton, conducting my own little symphony of torment. By the time I was done hacking and slashing at my foes, no one was left standing.

I saw everyone catch up with me, their weapons drawn.

"Damn it! You could've saved us some!" Dorrian and Ana shouted.

I grinned inside my helmet, sheathing my blade. That's when I saw my dad looking at me. Shit, he probably recognized the sword style I used to mow these guys down-his style.

Against better judgement, I made like a banana and split, running like my life depended on it.

(Dorrian told me this happened after I booked it.) My father looked at Dorrian suspiciously, "I feel as if you're not telling me something very important right now."

"Huh?" Dorrian replied innocently.

"Who is that man?" Thomas pressed.

"I've told you already. His name's Bob." Dorrian responded.

"Then how'd you get his name if he's mute?"

"Oh, ahm...fuck."

My dad ran after me, sword unsheathed.

Dorrian looked at Analise and Luna in alarm.

"Well, shit. Hel needs us, so let's get moving!"

I dashed through the street, then ran into the tavern on the left hand side of the street. As I stumbled into the building, I caught sight of a man-obviously the ring leader of this little invasion as he and a group of bandits tied up the villagers that were unfortunate enough to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.

He flashed me a devilish grin as he turned to regard me.

"Ello, Ello," he began in a smooth voice. "Who do we have here?"

I drew my sword, "I ask the questions."

He waved his hand around, motioning to his other lackeys, "I beg to differ. Last I checked, we were in charge, not you."

My dad ran into the tavern a moment later, "You-."

"Leave," I whispered.

That one word shook my father to his core. "That voice..."

"Leave now," I repeated, my voice harsh and pained.

My father hastily left the tavern, only for Dorrian and company to charge in, weapons drawn and eyes wild.

"Helix-oh fucking come on!" Dorrian exclaimed, causing his hood to fly backward as he clearly showcased his displeasure.

The man laughed, "Goodie, more people to slaughter."

This asshole was your average creeper: no hair, scar over the right eye, and a jig-saw nose.

Dorrian drew his knives. (Yes, rangers have knives too. What? You want him to cold-cock someone upside the head with his bow? Now that I think about it, I actually want to see that happen...)

"Asshole," Dorrian growled, "You underestimate our capabilities-no no, our badassness."

I rose an eyebrow, then scowled as I saw McCreep smile venomously. He drew a knife and held it to someone's throat, "Ah, ah, ah....wouldn't want me to kill this fine specimen, now would you?"

I then realized that the woman that was being held at knife point was my aunt Minerva. She was a funny woman that helped my father care for me after my mother died. I haven't seen her in a really long time-screw that, I haven't seen this village in a really long time.

Being the brash fool I am, I did the dumbest-yet smartest thing I could've done in that moment: I took my helmet off and hurled it at Mr. McCreep. It knocked him out, thankfully, (nice throw, Me.) and he dropped the knife.

"Charge!" I shouted.

One word: Hysteria. That is the simplest way I could describe the carnage my team wrought on these sorry bastards

Analise was truly a frightening sight: daggers twirling, face covered in blood, limbs flying as she hacked, slashed, and stabbed her foes with a wicked grin on her face.

Luna decided to try a few spells out on some of our adversaries. After a few moments of frustrated silence, she yelped as she accidentally dematerialized a bandit. She laughed nervously, only to yelp again and launch a bolt of magic at another bandit that had charged at her. His head promptly flew off his shoulders and exploded like a firecracker when it hit the ground.

"Whoa..." she muttered, "How did I do that? Never mind, that was awesome-oh shit."

She was about to attack another bandit that tried to get at her, but a flying dagger made its home in his eye socket.

"Bullseye!" Dorrian called as he slashed a bandit's throat. My goofy friend was also a sight to see. He fought off his foes with his one dagger until he was able to pull his other dagger out of his target's face.

I got in a few kills myself, devastating my foes with quick stabs and slashes.

When we were done, I had McCreep's decapitated head in my hand.

"This is what you get for being a creepy-ass bastard." I told McCreep as I dropped his head and punted it across the room. "You thought you could pillage this village? Well, you thought wrong."

Turning around, I saw Dorrian cleaning his knives with his cloak. Analise was being more...thorough in her cleaning as she licked the blood off of her knives, and Luna was idly playing with a yellowish-green piece of ball of yarn she had unknowingly conjured up. (Get it? Cause she's a cat?)

My dad walked back into the tavern with the whole garrison in tow behind him. When he saw the carnage, he stopped mid-step.

Then he saw me.

Confusion was written upon his face, then pure, raw grief.

"Helix..." He began, uncertainty laced in that single word.

Riiight, I threw my helmet at the creepy dude so I could save my aunt. Damn it.

Everyone looked at me, and I unceremoniously dropped my sword. I bent over to pick it up, and I averted my gaze.

"I can leave now, if you'd like," I mumbled.

My father was at a loss for words.

Dorrian stood in front of me and held his knives at the ready, "If anyone moves, you'll get a knife in your face."

"Put down your weapons Dorrian!" I snapped angrily.

He looked at me, confusion written on his face, then sheathed his knives.

Luna stood beside me, "What do we do?" She asked, her eyes showcasing the frantic hopelessness that was now arcing through me.

Against better judgement, -again- I walked up to my dad while staring down a dozen armed men and embraced him. Part of me wanted to stick him with a knife, but all of that was forgotten the instant I hugged him.

"Helix..." He sobbed, "I...I-."

"Don't say it," I warned.

"I'm sorry," He whispered.

"Damn it," I grumbled, feeling tears well up in my eyes, "Damn it all to hell..."

We just stood there, crying in each other's shoulders. The garrison dispersed to give us privacy. Nothing was said, we just stood there.

Finally, he looked at my face and my soul went cold this time.

He grabbed my shoulder and smiled, "You've grown quite a lot since...well, since I last saw you."

I nodded, too numb to reply.

Dorrian looked at me in concern, "You okay, my dude?"

Dumbass.

My aunt was staring at me while my dad and I were hugging each other. I now embraced her and she too cried into my shoulder. (Curses. Why oh why must this be a sad moment? Because the author is a cruel asshat. That's why.)

Finally, I backed away and looked at them: my father, the man that had personally seen to my exile and my aunt, the woman that had tried to take the place of my mother when she passed away...

Huh? What on earth? I felt funny when I thought about my aunt Minerva taking the place of my mother...what am I feeling...? Anger? The fuck? Why anger? Why would I be angry-?

"Because she could never replace me," A voice hissed in my head.

I shook my head furiously as if trying to shake a demon off. "I need to go outside-air..." I began hurriedly as I ran out of the tavern. I still had my helmet off, and my past crashed into reality as I stumbled past people I had known when I was younger. Their stares only made me run faster.

I ducked into an alleyway and leaned on the cobblestone wall, trying in vain to get my shit together.

"What the hell is going on right now?" I thought to myself.

"I never truly left," the strange voice continued, "I have been with you ever since you tried to bring me back."