The old farm house where children once played and carved their names into wooden pillars no longer stood. In its place were scorch marks, ash and most sickening, bones. His bones. Human flesh disintegrated in the flames.

She couldn’t breathe, her childhood lost and a soul she’s vowed to save dead. She’d left him, walked away safe in the knowledge the people who wanted him dead were on the way to their death. She’d been wrong.

Taken a turn in the wrong direction, doubled back, slit his throat and burned his house. His house, her house - their house. He wasn’t innocent, responsible for thousands of deaths, he was war. War had had his throat slit and his body burned and his last thoughts had been of her.

The hand on her shoulder had frightened her, little did these days. The neighbour had cried, had seen the destruction and somehow managed to keep together, something that she herself was unable to do. Her friend had long sunken onto the ground, a gasping sound repeatedly coming from her mouth.

Xena, Gabrielle and Ares watched the scene solemnly from across the yard. The former war god shook his head sadly, the reality of his most trusted commanders death just sinking in. Xena took his hand in hers and gave it a gentle squeeze, she sent a silent message of thanks to Eli. Her thoughts wandered back to a week ago when she left her grandparents farm, they had doubled back to get Ares, a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach. Today as she stood surveying the destruction she was glad she had.