A/N: This is just an excerpt of a book my friend would like to get published, and I do have permission from her to put this up here.
All of the things mentioned in this excerpt do not belong to me.
70 Years Ago
Blackness swam through my vision as I staggered to the med-tent, blood dripping from my own wounds and from where I had hit my charge.
He was gone; dead. He had probably gone to Sanctum, thanks to me. Note the sarcastic tone there. My mind had been taken over by the Devils, and I had been ordered to kill him. In the process, my mind shattered, leaving me with bloody hands and dead eyes.
Warm hands grabbed me, pulling me through the tent flaps. Bright lights and loud voices pounded on my head, making me cover my ears, close my eyes, and scream. Ropes pulled and held me tight to a bed, resisting my struggles and screams.
Something pricked the crook of my elbow, and a fire burned through me, making me scream louder and thrash against the cool, wet cloths washing the blood off of my skin. Suddenly, my limbs wouldn't respond and my tongue felt swollen in my mouth.
I felt so sleepy… the bed was so soft…
Right before I fell into oblivion, my head lolled to the side and I caught a glimpse of my hand. It was bloody, even though there was no cut or other injury.
As the blood fell to the ground, my eyes closed and I knew no more.