The Slaughter of Stonegate

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The Slaughter of Stonegate

By Galathan

“This spot. This spot is the rock in which the tide breaks. This is where our shields shatter the wave of tyrannical men. This spot is, here, is where we stand now and it is this spot where we will be standing at the end of all things. This is where we plant our feet into the God’s good earth and fortify our very souls against the bleating neighs of those who would dare try and stop us. This is where we hold!”

The deafening clang of weapons banging on shields, shields banging on shields, weapons banging on walls, and shouts of all-consuming triumphant glory filled the inner sanctum of Stonegate, echoing off of the hollow stone walls. One would never have suspected the heavily armed men and women to have valued the scholarly ways foremost over the way of warriors; scribes, students, alchemists, lawmen, observers of magic all. A thick row of steady-handed shields blocked the narrow passageway leading into the main chamber of the large keep, flanked on all sides by long spears and freshly sharpened swords. The scholars’ weapons reflected the pristine craft in such a way that only true scholars could. The thin passage was lined with murder holes, small spaces between the set stones of the walls, each with a spear or arrow poised, ready to strike out like a coiled snake into the hallway. Behind the blue-clad phalanx, a small number of men ground strangely grayish ash-like contents in their mortars, breaking the granules down into a fine powder and mixing it with a clear liquid, turning it murky, milky pink in color and very volatile.

“These princes and knights want to stop us from doing what they have the courage not to do. They want to destroy us because they do not possess the strength to do what we have to do. They seek to humble us before the Gods because they themselves have been found lacking in the eyes of the true Judges. What we do here today will save an incalculable amount of life. These regals and royals would stop us for minor infractions. They would stop us because of innocent blood. But, oh brothers and sisters of my dear homeland, we fight for the greatest good imaginable. We fight to save our families, their families, and their families and so on for infinity. This will be the day that the people of the world will remember us for standing against those who would rob them of their lives through their own inactions, in-fighting, and indecision. These men may hail from the royal cities on the mainland, but that does not make them right when it comes to the concerns of ethics. It is us, here and now, who will defy them and do the Gods’ true work and bring about an age of peace that will be welcomed with open arms by all.” Richard’s voice echoed boomingly across the barren halls. Not a whisper or a murmur came from the soldier scholars as he spoke.

“Brothers and sisters, who are we?!”

“We are Moonglow!” Hoots and hollers rang out, followed by another round of shield and weapon clashing. The roars were so loud that the floor shook with pent up excitement and exuberance for the forthcoming trials. Torchlight played across Galathan’s face as he waited near the base of the stairs for the end of Richard’s rousing speech. Richard’s speeches were always rousing, and he was very well admired for his ability. The lines and contours of the handsome man’s face showed that he did not get caught up in the emotion of the momentous event unfolding. He ran his fingers through his blond locks of hair, waiting for Richard.

“And this day is the day that we show the mainland royalty just what it means to be from Moonglow!” Cries and shouts, chants and salutes. Richard turned, with a flourish, leaving the morale high for the scholar soldiers. Spears and swords thrust into the air like dancing marionettes triumphantly. Richard’s wide smile waned as he approached Galathan. It was time to get to business. “What did you spot from up top?”

“Not the best odds we ever had.” The blond man replied matter-of-factly. He absently ran his fingers through his hair again. Richard nodded. “I’d say eighty to one, maybe, if we’re lucky. I honestly couldn’t count them all because their marching line wrapped around the south mountain pass, out of view. Taking this spot here and holding it is the only way we can buy time for Lord Greypawn to complete the ritual. I must say, though: in spite of our enemy being real, hardened professional soldiers, knights, royalty, with real weapons and armor, the cheering from within these walls would shake even the most stalwart. The morale is high here, which means a good fight, no matter what the odds.”

Richard nodded again in agreement. “We all have come a long ways from being a small-time puny town militia. I honestly never thought that we would have lived through the open-field battle against the Order of the Ebon Skull. They actually had horses and light cavalry. We were lucky to find weapons to fight with. When it comes right down to it, it’s not the weapons that make the soldier, but the fire inside. I would trust all of these soldiers with my life.”

“I would, too. But we should remain realistic. We have to assume that we are all going to die. The odds are just too greatly stacked against us. We need a backup plan to make sure that the ritual chamber is not breached incase we fail in this spot for whatever reason.” Galathan ran his fingers through his hair once more, a stray lock falling out of place. The ground gave periodic jumps like miniature earthquakes. “And we better figure one out fast. It wont be long until they are upon the ramparts.”

“Aye, but with forty men, we need them all to hold this area. This is the most critical and strategic spot. We pile their dead from floor to ceiling as they come and block their advances. There are no other routes to the ritual chamber. There are no other paths. They will have to come through here.” Richard jabbed the floor with the end of his spear and hefted his shield chest high, the blue star of Moonglow glimmering against the black metal. “We don’t have time to rethink this. I have made my decision and we will stand here.”

Galathan nodded, not entirely enthusiastic. “As you wish.” Galathan saluted Captain Richard and ran back up the stairs. Dashing through several darkened corridors and empty haunted halls, he made his way to the highest point in the keep. They were coming.

The sky was overcast, grey, dreary. Typical for the Northern Tundra. The frozen island far to the north of all things was not the most hospitable place in the world, but someone saw fit to erect a holy sanctuary in ancient times on it. The wind chilled Galathan’s face, the tip of his nose going numb and red. Mountains surrounded the north, east, and west sides of the keep. If there ever was a better position to defend, Galathan would have loved to see it. The mountains were sheer slopes and icy cliffs. Impassable by the individual, and completely impossible for an army. No caves, no tunnels. Only one way in and one way out. That was both a great advantage and a terrible, terrible disadvantage. There would be no escaping from this.

Bright gold and white banners dotted the single ice-covered path to the keep. The fleetingly rare and weak rays of sunlight that managed to pierce the grey bounced off of glimmering platemail and scaled horse barding. Rows upon rows of lances, pikes, halberds, spears, and other panalopy of war approached like the monstrous, unstoppable wave of a tsunami; slow and hell-bent on destruction, devouring all in its path. There really would be no escaping from this.

Galathan counted and then counted again. Seven. Seven units of men-at-arms followed by two units of mounted heavy cavalry. Spearmen followed close behind with a General’s-guard unit behind that. Galathan was not sure what the point of the cavalry was. This was not going to be a field battle. The men and women of Moonglow may have planted their roots firmly in the styles of militia combat, far from being professionally born and bred soldiers or nobility, but they were not stupid enough to take forty men against thousands in the open. If anything, the militia specialized in this form of combat. Neutralize all numerical advantages; hammer and anvil. The soldiers at the end of the hall were the anvil and the men manning the murder holes were the hammer, driving the Regent forces hard into the anvil, flattening them, crushing them, utterly destroying them. Several more units of men-at-arms were rounding the bend around the south mountain, followed by armored sergeants. It was going to be a long day.

Galathan ran his gloved hand along the stone surface of the battlement overlooking the south wall of the keep. It, like almost everything else, was covered in a layer of dense ice. The ice glistened beautifully in spite of the dreary grey of the sky hiding the sun that shone so gloriously off of the coast of Moonglow. Long, conical spirals of crystalline frozen water hung like suspended pillars from the top-most towers. They looked larger around than a man. The mammoth icicles bent and curved in a wild, suspended vortex around the towers, ending at their bases and forming one gargantuan frozen mass. A wild gust of wind pushed snow off of the western mountain, sending it sprinkling down over the keep like millions of impossibly tiny stars. Galathan tugged his black cloak tighter around himself. He was glad that he wasn't wearing metal armor. That would have been a big mistake.

Each forced step from the onward marching regals sent a thundering shock through the ground. It barely looked like the southern pass could even hold the weight of such a force. It was doubtful that the original architects of Stonegate ever intended for it to need an army. If the cliff-side cracked, an avalanche would ensue and the entire Regent army would go tumbling down with it. That would save a lot of trouble for everybody. But who ever gets that lucky?

"Are you scared?" A small, feminine voice came from behind Galathan. That voice never failed to hang in his ears pleasantly like a gentle, warm whisper. It was feathery, delicate just like any of the incalculable dangling icicles. The words were spoken through soft lips; it could be sensed by the how the words nestled snuggly into the willing ear that receives them. He smiled, his eyes not leaving the marching formation of the princes and knights.

"Never."

"You always say that, but I don't believe you. I think everybody gets scared some time." Her voice was self-assured, but fragile as if it could shatter into a million pieces, and something truly beautiful would be lost. The smallish young lady rested her forearms against the icy rock ledge, her shoulder pressing against Galathan's arm. She smiled, too. Short, single strands of her black hair clung to her forehead as longer ones framed the sides of her face like a master painting. The greenness of her eyes stood out prominently amongst the frozen tundra like two glittering jewels. Her hair along with a spattering of freckles along her cheeks made her look something of a tom-boy, quite particularly when she wore Moonglow armor. Her shield was strung across her back.

"Well, maybe just about everybody does. But why should I be scared? I got you to protect me!" He gave her a playful nudge with his elbow. Her laughter was musical and sent a certain warmth through him. The coldness of the air seemingly dissipated, or at least was forgotten.

"I'm pretty sure it's the other way around, silly. You taught me everything. You taught almost everyone here everything they know about fighting. You and Richard are truly great warriors. Honest." She moved her arm up along Galathan's back, beneath his cloak. Her hand was as warm and soft as her voice.

"Jasi, you do overstate things. If we live through this, I will never nay-say what you speak again. But since that has not yet happened, Richard is a great warrior, not me. He is the captain, not me. He leads the soldiers, not me. He is not just a truly great warrior, but a truly great man. The world is a better place because of him." Jasi knew better than to further try and press the point. "And Lord Greypawn, too, right? Do you think that . . . this ritual . . . it will work?"

Galathan sighed, leaning heavily against the ice. He draped an arm around Jasi’s waist, pulling her close, her warm body reviving his. "Who knows? If it doesn't work, then this was all for nothing. If it does work, then everyone outside of these walls will realize that we were right all along. They will realize that our few lesser evils pale in comparison to the greater good that we will have accomplished. If there is one thing I would trust Greypawn to do, it's this ritual. I wouldn't be here otherwise. If it were anything else, I would say no way."

Icicles broke from the towers, falling like crystal daggers, and shattered into shards of razor glass upon the still whiteness of the ground. The tremors from the ever-closer army shook the keep dangerously. Jasi squeezed Galathan tightly. "I'm scared." "I know." He squeezed her back.

Jasi clung to Galathan’s arm like a person clings to a floating piece of driftwood in the middle of a rapid river. She was going to be washed away, drowned, and her only salvation was the arm that she could hold on to. Galathan peered closer at the mass of men, nearly upon the doorstep.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting that.” Galathan pointed to a fluttering banner of gold with feint green edges in the middle of the invading tide. At the center of the banner was the black outline of a closed fist. “Who’s that?” Jasi, too, peered closer. Fragile snowflakes nestled themselves into her hair like delicate glass beads. She looked like a snow maiden standing watch over her frozen palace.

“The Tempestguard. Personal guards of the crowned Regent himself. Wouldn’t expect for them to be here in a place like this.” Galathan shifted slightly uneasily on his feet.

“Do you know them?” Jasi looked up at the side of Galathan’s strong jaw, which betrayed nothing. Galathan’s inner feelings were masked by his tell-tale grin. “Know them? Of course. I trained them. The leader of the guard, Corrin, came from Moonglow, too. He studied at the great library. We, along with Richard, fought at the battle of Yew together.” Galathan pointed his gloved hand at another banner, black and white with a gold sword across it diagonally. “I expected General Vorrel, there, and his buddy from the military academy, Ellis. They are both well favored by the governing Regent.” He pointed to another banner that was just coming around the south mountain bend that was grey with a white and black bird. “But I wasn’t expecting Corrin.” Jasi looked very uneasy. “What of them? Why should that matter?”

Galathan shook his head, his insides telling him one thing, but his mind telling him to not speak of such things. “It matters not. Just an observation is all.” He wanted to change the subject. “Do you know their weakness?” “Always the teacher, even when facing death, huh?” Jasi’s lips curled into a smile. Her cheeks were rose-colored and kissed by the frigid cold. Specks of pure white dotted her forehead and nose.

“Just answer the question.” Galathan ran his fingers through his golden locks.

Jasi pondered. She put her finger to her chin, intently studying the marching forms. “They are not wearing any gorgets, and their helmets do not extend down to their chest pieces. Their necks are not protected.”

Galathan nodded. “That is one of them, yes. They are severely padded beneath that metal armor. They have to be, otherwise they would be peeling that metal off of their bare skin. They probably removed certain pieces of plates from their suits to make room. My guess is the neck, which you have pointed out, but I would also wager under the arms. Normally they would have chain mail, but I have a feeling they simply decided against it and went with the warm padding. It is far too cold to even consider wearing that much metal. Under their arms is a weak spot, and behind the legs. Anywhere that there would have been chain mail. And, of course, their visors have slots for their eyes. Aim for that, too. With all that padding and metal plating and equipment, they probably are not very mobile, so use that to your advantage.”

Another strong gust of wintry air dusted the tops of the mountains, sending down another cascade, chilling the two. A particularly large spiral icicle broke from the reverberations of the approaching footsteps. Jasi looked more comforted hearing Galathan’s words. Galathan, however, still felt the heaviness inside of his stomach. A very familiar feeling, something he has felt countless times before though he would not tell anybody of it. “We should head back down. They are upon us.”

The first unit of men-at-arms entered the immediate canyon created by the surrounding mountains that led directly to the keep’s entrance. They would be the first to be smashed upon the anvil. Galathan knew those men. They were the Greywolf’s men. Galathan knew that the Greywolf would do anything to please the Regent; do anything for the leftover scraps from the royal table.

Galathan could even see the Greywolf from up top the frozen tower. The Greywolf gestured to his men wildly, his characteristic grey wolf pelts dangling from his arms and burly legs. The man was a beast. A large, brutal axe slung across his back; it looked like it was carved out of a tree trunk.

Galathan took Jasi by the hand and led her down the spiraling stone staircase. Without torch light, and no day light, it was a difficult task not to tumble down face first. If it weren’t for the thought of the coming confrontation, the entire keep would have seemed surreally serene. A place frozen in time, preserved for the ages. A place that does not belong in this world, but in an ancient time.

With a fleeting glance to one another, Jasi moved away from Galathan to rejoin the ranks at the end of the hall, where everyone else clothed in the blue of Moonglow stood ready for what was to come. Galathan’s heart sank, as it always did. He just wasn’t cut out to be a fighter.

Words broke out from the formation. “I hear them coming!” One man shouted. “They’re here!” A woman announced. A man with a slight hysterical tinge to his voice yelled: “It’s the dreaded Wolf! What are we going to do against such a beast?!” “Hold steady!” Richard commanded, his voice booming out over the rest, and then all voices were silent. The alchemists deftly passed out bottles of milky pink mixture to the men and women among the ranks. All that was left was listening and waiting. The hall shook, bits of mortar and loose brick crumbled from the ceiling, creating small dunes on the cracked and neglected floor. The rumbling roar of impassioned cries for blood and death characteristic of the Greywolf’s soldiers echoed down the long corridor. It was easy to see why those men would be chosen to be first. Their thunderous war chants could dishearten the fiercest and most noble man.

Galathan stood behind Jasi, his sword and shield at the ready. “Remember. They are not beasts from the ether. They are not demons sent from below. They are not gods who walk the lands. They are people. They are flesh and blood like you and I. They eat like us, sleep like us, and will die just like us. Make them taste their mortality.”

The words seemed to reassure those within earshot. “I’m just glad you’re with us.” Jasi said in her soft, kind voice. The surrounding others nodded in agreement. Galathan’s stomach felt like the marched upon frozen tundra. But there was no time to dwell on such things.

Like a stampede of rushing, angry bulls, the far end of the hall filled with beastial men hooting and hollering, their war chants resonating off of the brick walls. Their heavy footsteps shook loose ancient stone. At that moment, they were the most fierce, feared, dreaded men imaginable, swelling like the tide, larger than life, consumed with rage and the wanton desire to destroy and scatter those of Moonglow like sticks in the wind. That is, until they reached the murder holes.

The first of the Graywolf’s men charged down the hall like a herd of ornery bulls, cursing and screaming and chanting war, gritting their teeth and brandishing their crude axes and curved blades. They were tall, large, formidable walls of muscle, hatred, experience, and professional training. Their eyes were burning, letting their inner warriors leap to life and consume and ruin their adversaries’ courage. The walls of the long hall shuddered with their thunderous footsteps as if caught in an earthquake in which there was no escape. For the briefest of moments it even appeared as if any single one of them could destroy the row of spears and shields at the far end of the hall just by ramming through head first. Their weapons were nicked, cracked, and stained with ancient blood and entrails. Such weapons had seen to the ends of many lives and were wielded expertly. Each one of the Graywolf’s men had seen more battles than they can count on either hand, and for many this would be the last.

Arrows and bolts zipped through the murder holes along the side of the walls, giving a distinctive “Swish” sound as the fletching brushed against the stone. Blood curdling screams and yells rang out and sprays of crimson coated the walls as pieces of wood and metal broke through flesh and muscle. Large bulky bodies came crashing down, skidding along the rough stone floor as knees were punctured and thighs impaled. Others of the Graywolf’s company caught sharp bolts in the throat, cutting their air off and choking them with blood, and yet others caught arrows in their ribcages, the wooden shafts breaking off and getting stuck within the bone and cartilage, impairing their ability to function in battle.

Those of the Graywolf’s men who made it past the first hurdle quickly encountered the second as spears were lunged through the murder holes in the wall and caught the men in the legs, sides, and arms, piercing and breaking limbs. The Graywolf himself leapt over the fallen bodies of his men, who crumpled to the ground groaning and screaming, accompanied by the last remaining soldiers he had and met the spear phalanx head-on. Not a tactically wise move, thought Galathan.

The Graywolf was tamed by no fewer than five spears, his torso splayed and sliced open as if dissected, and no longer looked like the imposing threat that he did but a moment earlier. His tattered carcass was discarded along with the bodies of the last of his men. He died a truly soldierly death.

The men and women of Moonglow breathed deeply as they overcame the first of countless waves. More were coming, though, so their respite was short and nerve-addling. Galathan gave Jasi a light squeeze around the waist and wiped a single drop of red from her cheek that had splashed from earlier. She looked nervous, but more sure of herself than before the slaughter of Graywolf’s men.

A distinct rumbling overtook the hall once more as countless charging feet made their way towards the corridor. The first men to come into view held a royal banner of some noble house that Galathan did not readily recognize. No doubt a noble answering the call of the Regent. The men were armored in platemail and chain, wielding swords and shields. They were men-at-arms, and from the looks of them they were professional soldiers and not levies. They ran slow, as much was to be expected of men in plate, but made a deafening racket as their metal plates clanged together, accompanied by their yells and own personal war chants. There was an advantage, figured Galathan. Judging by their armor, yes they were professional soldiers trained at the Academy, but they were green. Their armor had no scuffs, dings, dents, slashes, or any other tell-tale sign of combat. They were fresh from the Academy and this was most likely their first battle. Galathan’s heart sunk a little at the notion. They probably had their heads filled with propaganda telling them how great and glorious it is to die in battle, because that is exactly what was going to happen.

The bolts and arrows proved to be far less effective against the men-at-arms, only scoring a few vital hits between plate joints, and most of them simply deflected off of the thick armor and shields. However, the spearmen manning the second row of murder holes went solely for the legs, tripping many of the front-row soldiers. Carrying such heavy armor, they stood no chance of catching their balance and fell face first to the ground, only to be trampled to a most inglorious and ignoble death by their comrades in arms as they struggled to climb over the large plated bodies. The spears jabbed out of their murder holes mercilessly, the sharpened ends being jammed beneath plates and pierced the vulnerable flesh beneath. Blood spurted from helmets and limbs, but still some of the more lucky or better trained men-at-arms made it to the phalanx.

Their weight proved beneficial to the men-at-arms as they crashed heavily against the shields, sending the lighter militia members staggering backwards, opening gaps in the line. Jasi was thrown back against Galathan, unable to hold her spot. The soldier who shoved against her brought his sword down in a swift arc that would cleave straight into her head. That is, if Galathan did not bring his own sword up to meet it.

Galathan quickly slid his sword down the length of the man-at-arm’s blade and struck the weaker metal plate on the back of the man’s hand with a forceful and severing strike. The man howled as his fingers became detached, but his howling was shortlived as Jasi failed to hesitate shoving the sword into the man’s unarmored neck. She was right, they opted to not cover their necks with gorgets. The remaining men-at-arm’s were similarly dispatched and formed a heap in front of the phalanx. Another obstacle for the invaders to have to overcome. Only two of the Moonglow scholars were wounded by gashes across the arms. Jasi looked at Galathan with fright in her eyes. She could have been killed. Galathan stepped close behind her, his presence bringing reassurance. All of the Moonglow militia appeared calmer with him there, and Richard, too.

“Straighten up, here they come again.” Richard announced. The phalanx tightened once more, shields interlocking and spears pointing towards the hall. The rumbling earthquake within the halls no longer seemed to concern many. It would seem that the Regency forces were wizening up, somewhat. Marching towards the phalanx were rows of men carrying long polearms and halberds. Flanking the rows of men were shield bearers to protect everyone from the murder holes. The bolts and arrows deflected harmless off of most of the shields, only scoring a couple of vital hits, and the spears stabbed helplessly and clanged against the thick shields. Galathan betted that the Regency soldiers felt real smart right then. He wasn’t about to let them stay that way. Richard nodded to Galathan. “Now!” The front line of the phalanx kneeled to the ground and the members behind heaved glass bottles filled with the murky concoction towards the center of the halberdiers, completely bypassing the shield bearers.

KABOOOOM!

The halls rattled violently and thick billowing smoke mingled with screaming cries of agony, and suffering filled the entire lower half of the keep. Nothing remained visible. Everything was dark murky grey smoke. The only way Galathan even knew anyone else existed besides him was the feel of Jasi against him.

The smoke did not linger too long, though, and dissipated enough to provide at least a slight view of the havoc that was wrought by the scholarly citizens of Moonglow. Charred and broken bodies lined the sides of the halls; those were the shield bearers that were thrown with tremendous force against the stone. What remained of the halberdiers was a lot less as strings and pieces of limbs and equipment strewn the entire length of the large hall. But still, there were survivors who moaned agonizingly, and others who prayed for mercy or death or both. But there was no time to consider that.

The next group of soldiers sprung forth from behind the shattered halberdiers and charged heedlessly towards the phalanx, trampling underfoot any survivor. The crossbowmen and archers were running low on bolts and arrows and thus could not inflict enough casualties to slow the advance, nor could the spearmen react fast enough before the well-armed soldiers were once more upon the phalanx. With another shattering crash, the phalanx was splintered by the heavily armored swordsmen.

Galathan felt the familiar sensation spreading through him. A mixture of panic, desperation, and despair, all of which were completely and utterly irrational to have in a situation like this. But, that did not stop him from feeling that way. He felt the same way every single time he was engaged in battle. He was not cut out to be any kind of warrior.

Jasi capably blocked an attack with her shield and successfully countered, skewering the soldier through his unarmored neck. Before Galathan could regain his senses, he felt his sword hand jerk. His sword flew to the ground and bounced out of reach and an armored swordsmen made ready to follow up his disarming strike with something more fatal for the blond man.

Unarmed, Galathan stepped away from the swordsman, avoiding the first swing, and then ducked beneath the second. The third one threatened to sever several of Galathan’s finely cared-for hairs before Galathan jammed the edge of his shield into the front of the man’s helmet, mashing his face. The soldier stumbled back, blinded and no doubt unable to even open his eyes because of the broken nose, and tripped over a body, crashing heavily on the floor and trapped beneath the weight of his armor. Before Galathan could do anything to follow up, another heavily-armored body fell on top of the soldier, crushing and smothering him. A sick sense of relief overcame Galathan and he took a deep breath. Most of the men-at-arms were dispatched and the phalanx was reforming once more. Galathan stepped over a number of fallen bodies, including several belonging to those of Moonglow, to reach Richard.

“How long will Greypawn need to complete his ritual?” “He said he would need at least two days upon beginning preparations.” “How long has it been? “I think it‘s almost noon by now.” “Fantastic.” Galathan rolled his eyes and made his way back towards Jasi, who no longer looked jittery or panicked. In fact, she looked right at home amidst the death and destruction. She had sprays and spatters of red across her Moonglow pendant. Her face, too, had several red streaks. But, she was calm and brave. Something that Galathan wished he could share in.

It was a brief respite as more soldiers filled the far end of the hall, marching onwards towards the phalanx. How could they last for such a long amount of time? It seemed impossible to Galathan. He would just have to take it one minute at a time, he figured. That was the only way. He reached his hand out to Jasi, taking her hand briefly and giving it a squeeze. He was reassured when she squeezed back. He knew then that everything would be alright and they would make it out just fine. But how could things have gone so wrong?

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