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brother fellow archer I felt his pain. The arrow pierced his side from the front, just barely hitting him, but it was I who felt it. He didn’t feel it, or just didn’t show it. It stuck in him, and we fought on. She had the higher ground; we were sitting ducks. Her evil eyes were all she permitted us to see. A black bandana concealed what her midnight black robe and hood did not. She was thin, and moved deftly across the battlements as we fought. My brother and I had nothing to hide behind and had only our agility to thank for each successive arrow that hit the sun-warmed dirt behind us. We hadn’t come to fight; that wasn’t why we were here. We had come to close the eye in the triangle. The eye glared at us from above the battlements as our inevitable end closed in on us from all sides. It resided within a triangle made of gold, the eye being itself also made of gold. We needed to close it, but we did not, for after the fated arrow traveled seemingly in slow-motion from her bow to my brother’s side, I shuddered, and left him, and the rest of that world behind. Why did I feel his pain? I’m not sure. I’m not sure what happened to him, but I know for certain that he didn’t close the eye. My vision went white, and amidst my agony I realized that I was no longer on that open field near the battlements fighting alongside my brother. The world was now completely white. All around me I saw light streaming in through windows that didn’t exist. Light beams originated from absolutely nowhere and softly touched down near my feet. I stood in anguish – breathing short, forced breaths, heart aching in my chest – as I visualized what I knew to be my brother’s inevitable fate. I know he didn’t close the eye. If he had, I wouldn’t be here, apart from him. Closing the eye would release me, and everyone else. The arrow struck him, and I died. The next arrow would be his own.

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