Kori had escaped the main group as quickly as he possibly could. Loitering around the very core of their forces would surely put a target on his back - if there were to be an attack, he might be annihilated with the rest of them. That simply couldn't be allowed to happen.

From where he was, he had a perfect vantage point. He could see the mountain, all the tiny passageways disguised as caves that ran in and out of it, and even the old, twisted hawthorn that marked the main entrance of Kutelo. It was almost laughable that the single tree on the top of the mountain was perhaps more sturdy than any of them. Vampires, who lived eternally, would come to perish today. Yet that tree most likely would not.

He figured it would be beneficial to creep away somewhere where he could view everything, but not be seen himself. A cliff was an absolute no, and so were most of the pines that littered the area. But perhaps there would be a cave somewhere where he could merge himself with the shadows and continue to gaze down upon the impending bloodbath.

More laughable than the tree, Kori realised, was the lack of organisation. How easy it would be to simply desert. He was sure a number of elites would've deserted already, knowing the hopelessness of their battle.

Slinking back into the shrubbery, he made his silent exit, and - as expected - no one batted an eyelid. Once far enough away for sound to not be a problem, Kori began to run. He quickly entered Vihren territory, though only skulked on the outskirts. It was simply safer for him to be there than in the middle of Kutelo. Even with his hearing, which was less advanced than even some of his own group, he could hear conversations between various creatures of Vihren as they discussed strategy.

He could be a good strategist, he thought to himself. If he wanted to, he could've quickly gathered intel and organised the mess of an army back home, and they'd be done with it. But he was too young for their trust, and frankly he didn't care whether they lived or died. In fact, it may be in his favour if Kutelo were to be wiped out. The others would no doubt be taken with it, and [Y/n] would live without fear. Then, when she least expects it, he would be able to sweep her off her feet and take her away with him.

How romantic that sounded. On reflection, it would not be romantic at all. He didn't understand the workings of her brain and neither did she his. There was a cultural barrier that separated them, despite her having brought them up. How did it develop, he wondered? And what on Earth went wrong? Why did she despise him so much?

Could it be the... fire antics? He supposed maybe she wasn't a fan of being burned. Perhaps the shuriken added a bit of fear to the terrible concoction. On reflection, he likely wouldn't grow to be madly in love with someone who hurt him, either. But what was he to do? Let go of his whims like that? After all, treating her in such a way had been hilariously amusing for the boy.

He had found it funny that she was screaming out in agony. He paused for a moment to think on that idea. Could he truly call that love?

Sighing to himself, he concluded not to think on this strange trivia any longer. He took a deep breath in, and then slowly exhaled.

Yes, that's right. Nothing to worry about at all.

He stared over at the rock face he'd been travelling towards. Spotting a small cave there, he sped up his pace. He'd get there soon. Things were transient, and he couldn't think about looking back now. Reflection wouldn't get him anywhere. So why did he turn around?

His eyes rested on Kutelo.

A huge figure flew towards it - the shape of the dragon he'd seen carry [Y/n] away became apparent to him. It made a beeline for the mountain of Kutelo itself. The way it carried itself; it was odd to think this beast walked, spoke and even ate as a human would.

Even from the distance, Kori could make out the opening of its jaws as it approached the mountain.

The sound was so loud. It was a war cry, but it wasn't crying for battle... it was crying for annihilation. And Kori didn't mind. In fact, he found it father tranquil, watching the dragon's fire begin to erupt from its gaping mouth, melting away at the mountain itself. The hawthorn, which Kori had only earlier believed would outlive them, was instantly converted to ash. Molten rock rolled down the edges of the mountain.

He laughed to himself. His home, in only a few minutes, would be entirely gone.

It was the start of a new beginning for him, and a beginning that [Y/n] would accompany him in, no less.

* * *

Having left the bedroom which [Y/n] had inhabited, Tara, Sally and Damien concluded that it was about time they did something worthwhile. No one was here, and no one would come here for a long time, by the looks of things. The place was completely silent. Tara noticed that even Sally and Damien hadn't reacted to any noises like they usually did.

Sally had decided to see if they could use this opportunity to escape, and so they had gone to the main doors to listen for anyone outside them. No guards were stationed on the other side of the doors, Damien had concluded, but they knew that leaving may be a bad decision as well.

He looked at the back of his hand - on it, he had written a note to himself. 'The corner of the bedroom.' This note was so they wouldn't forget it, as it kept forcibly removing itself from their minds. He looked over at Sally, who seemed a little distant.

"What's up?" he questioned, though he knew it was a stupid thing to ask. What wasn't up?

"War," she responded. "I heard some guards talk about it earlier." Damien nodded his head.

"Don't stress yourself out," Damien chimed, despite his own voice being dull and rigid. "And you, Tara? Are you alright?" he questioned, turning over to the brunette girl. She lethargically raised her head, her brown eyes meeting his with their usual hopeless gloss.

"We should go down there," she hissed out, staring at a piece of paper in her hands, which perfectly detailed what they'd found behind the mirror. "If no one can remember it, then it's got to be safer for us. We're obviously only pawns to use to make [Y/n] come back here! If we die in there, then at least we might accomplish our mission of saving her," she muttered.

"Tara," Sally began, but Damien cleared his throat before she could continue.

"I'll go."

Tara and Sally looked at him in utter confusion. He'd been so against it, why was he deciding to go now? It made no sense to them. But Damien knew that Tara wouldn't give up on her mission of going down there, and frankly, he didn't want her to. Therefore, he decided to opt that he himself went down, and if he didn't make it back, then they should not follow. This plan didn't need to be shared verbally. Tara and Sally could tell, just by the look in his green eyes, what Damien planned to do. Tara hesitantly nodded her head, and Sally watched him with uncertainty, but she didn't stop him as he turned back down the corridor they had come from, heading back to the bedroom with the secret opening.

He walked brusquely, intending to make this quick, as he didn't want to leave Tara or Sally waiting for long. He pushed the door open, ignoring its groan of protest, and made a beeline for the mirror, which he promptly moved out of the way.

He stopped before the stairway, which remained illuminated by the faint blue glow between the cracks of the rocks.

Taking a deep breath, he took his first step forwards. Then his next. He glanced behind him to see the entrance, and then took another step. Then another. Another glance over his shoulder was used as precaution, trying to burn the image of the entrance into his memory, before facing back to the stairs once more. Now he proceeded without looking back, his hand against the illuminated wall. Though the lighting was incredibly dim, and the stairs just kept going.

He wondered whether he would die here. He'd only been walking for about five minutes by the time he had questioned this, but he realised that it was entirely plausible. Each step may lead closer and closer to his inevitable death.

Ten minutes passed. Then thirty. Then an hour. It was an hour and fifteen minutes before Damien saw any change in his surroundings. That being, the stairs grew wider, as though about to slope to a halt, and the tunnel began to grow lighter. The blue luminescence that permeated through the rock was becoming more and more prominent.

Finally, the stairs stopped. Damien continued walking forwards along the hallway. There was a left turn, and then a right one, and finally he was able to reach a door.

He still recalled the surface - he still knew his name, and he remembered the corner with the mirror vividly.

Pushing on the doors, his eyes squinted shut at the blinding blue light that was cast over him.

Eventually, his eyes allowed themselves to take in the sight before him.

Crystals. Glowing blue crystals everywhere, and inside of them were bodies, perfectly preserved. There was a small crystal at the front of the room which looked as though it had been broken, and there was a hollow sort of shape inside the second broken half that Damien assumed was the form of an infant child.

He slowly reached his hand forward to touch the crystal, but reeled back immediately when a strange, ice cold sensation took over his skin. It was painful. He wouldn't be touching them again.

He looked at the brightest crystal. Inside of it was a body, bloody and mangled, though it had assumedly been washed before being placed in the crystal itself. The man had dull, crimson red eyes, and long flowing silver hair. He, like all the other encased beings in their crystal tombs, was dressed in glamorous coronation clothing. And thus, Damien understood that this was a royal crypt. Though that didn't explain the shape of the infant in the crystal at the front.

Footsteps alerted Damien. They were coming from the far side of the room, so they couldn't be Tara's, or Sally's.

"Who's there?" Damien growled out.

"Ah. I assumed it would be one of you humans," the voice drawled back. Damien recognised it as the voice of the man who had tricked him into coming to this place initially. The strange doctor. Rayne.

"Why are you here?" Damien asked curtly.

"I'd say I have a lot more right to be here than you do," Rayne responded with a dull laugh, appearing from behind the crystal Damien had been observing. Rayne stared at it for a moment, before returning his gaze to Damien.

"Thirteen minutes," Rayne hummed.

"Until what?" Damien hissed back.

"I estimate that it is around thirteen minutes until the war begins." Damien's brow furrowed.

"Then why are you down here? Aren't you a doctor?" he questioned. Rayne shrugged.

"We will all die anyway, so I don't see the point." He paused. "I'm down here because I wish to live. I'm rather weak, you see." He paused. "I had assumed that you had worked out what was going on and come down here for the same reason." Damien raised a brow.

"Why come down here for that reason?"

"Ah. I see," Rayne smirked. "Just morbid curiosity?" Damien nodded his head slowly. "How loud do you think you can shout? Do you think you're loud enough to shout across a distance of five miles?"

"What? Of course not," Damien snapped, "what are you talking about?"

"Then do you think that in 7 minutes you can run up those stairs fast enough to get to a point where you can shout up to your little human friends, and then have enough time for all three of you to get back down here?" Rayne smirked.

Damien slowly shook his head in confusion.

"I didn't think so." Rayne slowly approached Damien. "I also anticipate that, when this war begins, they will open with the desire to instantly crush us all. And their first measure in doing that," he hummed, looking up, "will be taking their little dragon prince and incinerating the mountain of Kutelo."

Damien's eyes widened.

"Your little friends are going to be dust in about 10 minutes."

Damien placed his hand against his head, which was still cold from having touched the crystal. He was trembling. Surely this man was messing with him? But there seemed to be no trace of a lie in his glass-like green eyes.

"You have three options." Damien was not focused on anything in particular, his gaze simply resting on space. "You can stay down here quietly with me and wait this war out, you can feebly try to run up to the surface in the time you have left and die with your friends, or you can ask me to kill you now to put you out of your misery."

Damien didn't speak. He took a couple of shaky steps towards the stairs that he had come from.

Ten minutes was slightly wrong, though Rayne was close, as Damien could feel the world begin to tremble around them, only further exacerbating his own violent shaking.

"H-how do you know we'll be safe here?"

"As you experienced when you touched it, these crystals react endothermically with most elements. Therefore, dragon's fire will not manage to reach through the shell they have formed around this crypt." Rayne walked up to the broken crystal, where a child had once slept for numerous years, before being woken again and brought into the world like any other.

"If... if they'd come with me..." Damien muttered, unable to finish his sentence. He stared at the staircase.

Now, he wished this place had made him forget who he was. Made him forget everything.

He leaned against the cold stone wall, the crystal poking through it making his skin blister, but he didn't care for the pain.

He couldn't even see them.

He couldn't be there to comfort them in their last moments.

He could only imagine the molten rock begin to pour over their heads and swallow them whole.

Hi guys! Socks here. Sorry for the wait for this chapter! This is the last numbered chapter of Youth - I now have the endings to write, and there are ten which I will publish simultaneously, so it may take me a while! Very sorry about that. Love you all! See you on the other side, when this mess is finished~