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Broog tilted his head at the word 'sevilin'. that was the elf with the black skin and the flashy hand things. and whatever the horse told keely she wanted to go look. So he got the warg out of it's stall and sat up on it, leting it paw and drool and snort a bit. he'd let her lead the way, one because the horse would get upset, and two, because he didn't have any idea where they were going.

Apparently Broog was coming with her. Giving a nod, she mounted up on the nightmare with the boldness that only the lord and lady of the house possessed when handling her and gave a little snap of reins. "Let's go then...and it better be fast." A look over her shoulder. "And if you're coming you better keep up."

"Zykariel!" If there was an audible snap of Sevilin's brain to be heard...it would of just been heard around the plane. Red flooded his vision and one decisive stroke later had her throat split open, followed by the blade wedged in her back deep into her spine. A backhand followed, throwing her to the ground. "It never begun."

He body was running on something other now, pain and injury and anything else could not sway him. He skidded and scrambled back down the rocks on his boots to his son, grabbing the blood, he pulled him out of his sister's blood. However dire the moment, he felt a certain type of relief that came with flooding energies as that barrier dropped. Taking the dagger from his son's hand, he slammed it into Marrkellyn's chest, just to make sure that wench didn't get back up for a quick heal and then proceeded to rip his son's shirt off, taking to scribing runes on his person to quickly seal up the wounds that would prove fatal otherwise. He'd be damned if he lost his son.

Making sure all the major wounds were healed on his son, he shifted the boy to his side so that the blood he was coughing up would drain freely rather than drown him. "You'll be okay..." He didn't care about whatever the hell was wrong with him, long as Zykariel was safe. He held his son close though, feeling out what he could with what runes his body allowed him to use. This wasn't how this was supposed to go at all... Leaning back against a nearby rock, he pulled Zykariel with him, recling the boy against his chest as Marrkellyn's blood continued to pool around him as she was just nearby, and Jazmynna lay on the hill above, her blood draining by gravitiy's law. "Zahara...forgive me..." Opening bonds slowly as he knew otherwise it would overwhelm her. She was going to hate him for this...thre was no way he'd be able to keep her from knowing now, better to let her in on the chaos. Besides...someone had to get Zykariel home, he couldn't feel his legs.

Keely pulled hard on Ramoth's reins, meaning to stop or there would be more trouble. Keely didn't play. Taking the baby that was more or less thrust at her, she blinked at the child and then at Zahara. Oh so this was making even more sense now. "Broog, you can go with Zahara." If he was set on going then he could go but she understood how Zahara wouldn't want to take the baby or leave him alone either. "Alright Ramoth...so you were right. I'll spoil you later."

If Broog was coming, he'd better be fast because Zahara was wasting no time. She couldn't translocate because she didn't know exact locations but she could blip in and out along the way. It didn't take long for her bonds to lead her straight to the bloody battlefield and she slid down off Faete, terrified and uncertain what to do first. One body...a female. Her face made Zahara blanch. She had to be Sevilin's sister...which one, she didn't know but the cruel sting of betrayal began to creep into her heart.

She didn't have a whole lot of time for emotions as she saw the crumpled forms of her son and husband. There was blood everywhere and she found herself sliding in it, droplets splashing against her legs and skirt as she pounded towards those two figures. "Sevilin...Kariel..." Skidding to her knees, she cupped both faces and stared into their eyes, trying to assess how much life was in them. Enough. She had to get them home.

Whistling for Destyny, she lifted her son and settled him on the horse, encouraging her to return home, with Faete to help carry the burden. Then it was time for her husband. Taking his arm, she lifted his heavy girth and heaved a deep sigh. "Sevilin...siphon my energy and translocate us. I can't do it..." Turning to Broog. "You can do whatever you like with this. I don't care."

He knew she'd show up sooner or later and he knew she wouldn't be happy. She probably wouldn't understand what he did or why, or who any of them were. But that didn't matter to him right now. Knowledge that his son would be okay was enough for him at the moment as he sat there with eyes closed, a certain feeling humming through his veins that spoke of things other than battle and such, something that spoke of the reasons he set out being fulfiled...it wasn't about revenge after all.

Eyes opened though at his wife's voice, but he didn't say much, merely helped her with Zykariel to his best extent before she was back for him apparently. Already in a mode for directions as she pulled him to his feet, not that he could feel the ground right now but he did feel ever other hurt and injury he had. Though eyes widened some and he shook his head as Broog decided to play clean up crew. "NO." Gritting his teeth a moment as the ogre further decided to take things into his own hands...which in all present circumstances was actually a good idea. "Those two are mine. Mine to do with what I please." Little hint of crazy in the voice still. He knew if they were left to 'whatever' that Malik would get wind of this ordeal as well...not something that was a good idea and Sevilin wasn't quite finished with those two yet. He wanted to make sure they weren't even going to come back from the dead.

Broog did what he was told, but also did what he was trained to do in this situation. he dropped both bodies in the training room, and took Sevilin to the bedroom, and put him in bed as comfortable as an ogre knows how, before plodding back down to the training room, and removing the dagger out of the one, and getting blood samples from both bodies before bringing the dagger to Zahara. sometimes a wound could be guessed at by the weapon that made it. and then he plopped down in front of the door to the home. Broog didn't know there were only two coming, or that they weren't scouts. So he was going to do his job and protect.

he fumbled with a link stone, trying to get his hand around it without breaking it to tell Keely about the situation.

She didn't need Sevilin's order since she'd already been heading that way herself. "Don't you dare heal yourself." Turning, she left the room, making her way into her son's and taking care of all of his injuries. She carried on a conversation in a hushed tone, getting noncommittal answers or short responses and knew part was because of the pain he was in and part was because he didn't want to upset her. She was far past upset. Staying with her son until he dropped off into reverie, she went downstairs and saw Broog. "I want anything you took from them, Broog. Weapons, blood, hair, anything. None of it leaves this house, understand?" There was no way in hell she wanted Malik able to do anything with the women.

Leaving Broog, she steeled herself and walked into the training room. She'd seen dead bodies before and methodically, she began to search them. What she was looking for showed up on the younger girl. Zahara stared at the letter her husband had written with tears brimming in her eyes and closed them against the grisly sight before her. Minutes may have blended into hours for all the time she sat there; she really didn't know. Eventually though, she pushed herself shakily to her feet and climbed the stairs, tucking the letter into the pocket of her skirt.

Tending her husband with business-like efficiency, she stitched the wounds that required it, healed his broken bones and then wrestled him into a bath. Leaving him to bathe himself, she stripped the bed and remade it then handed him a towel and waited to see if he needed any help.