![Image](http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u193/setasouji/richardbutton.jpg)
Darkness.
Richard gasped as if he'd just surfaced from underwater, pressing a hand to his face. His armor carried the night's chill, the metal cold enough to bite his too-hot flesh. He nearly groaned at the feel of it, pressing his other hand to his cheek, lifting the shield shard to touch his brow. It was as though a fire raged upon his skin, even as the sharp air stung against it with bitter complaint. It took a moment to steady himself. Be still. Let the heat boil off his frame. Let the night cool his blood. Breathe in. Breathe out. One. Two. Three. Four.
What the hell had come over him?
He'd acted on basest instinct, and with the blood and blackness now receded, he felt shaken. Richard opened his eyes, holding the shard gently between his fingers. It was there. It was real. A balm upon his wounded soul, a tiny flicker of light in the ever-present pall of this place. Hold on to it. Take strength from it. Richard gently shifted the shard in his palm, gripping for the handle of his sword before realizing it wasn't there. He looked up, heart racing, but there were no foes to fight. The castle was gone. His companions, gone.
"O-oh Ezra," he whispered, aghast, as if the shard in his hand could hear him. "I-I-I promised - I-I-I promised to protect... oh Lady, please let them-please let them be safe. Please..."
Voices. Voices from the forest, not from his mind. Was he still in the courtyard, in the same place, but in the different time? But that would mean where and when he stood was long before the castle had been built - long before it had even been envisioned. Then who could these voices be?
It would do no good to try and eavesdrop, they would hear him coming long before he reached them - and likely react with alarm, given their current location. He dared not approach them without some means of warning. With a bit of effort, he retrieved his old and well-polished lantern, taking a few tries with flint and steel to ignite the oil. It had been his uncle's once, a symbol of trust and guiding light. Richard could only hope it held true to that promise.
He held it up and waited, in case the women saw the glow in the forest. Breathe in. Breathe out. One. Two. Three. Four. Then he carefully walked forward, to where he thought the voices were.