And then, in the distance, a burning building collapses, and the scream can't be heard anymore.

Greek soldiers march openly in the streets, and the gates of the city have been swung open, letting a steady stream of hard hearted soldiers flood into the city center.
In a hidden corner of the palace, far from the bloody swords of Neoptolemus, two women, one young and another old, help a desperate looking Trojan tie down the last of the supplies to a cart. With a final heave, the grizzled soldier nods at the cart, and upon hearing the fresh clash of metal down the halls of the palace, runs off, spear readied.

The older of the two women desperately hugs the younger for a moment. Two. She is jerked from her reverie when a man's voice rises in desperate begging before being cut off with a heavy whimper.

She strikes the mule, and the cart stumbles away, an oddity moving through the burning city.

Whether friend or foe see it first may determine the future of a bloodline.

"Hold the line!" Came the cry, "You run you die!" In the streets of their ruined city, a line of Trojans stretched across the road, preventing passage. The flames glinted off of their bronze helmets, and the tips of their javelins seemed molten in the fire light. Suddenly, out of the smoke, like a creature rising from hades, the Greeks marched. A storm a javelins felled some, but more arose out of the night to take their place. "For Priam, and for Troy! Charge!" And with that, the Trojan line surged forwards, crashing into the Grecian monsters. And so the fight for their lives began.

Further down the road...

"Why are we running that way? The Greeks are over there!" Cried Thintos, running after Ambrus.
"It's pointless, they've already broken through elsewhere. We must protect the King!" Ambrus lied. The king was most likely already dead, but the palace also happened to be the most likely escape route. Troy was doomed, any fool could see. He wasn't going to die because some king paid him to. Eventually, they reached the palace. It was already burning, the screams of the dying emanating off it's walls. Damn, no way through there. "What's that?" Asked Thintos, pointing towards a side gate, where a mule and cart were just stumbling through, heading, Ambrus guessed, for another exit. "It must be a coward, trying to flee. Come, we'll stop him!" Escape rout, thought Ambrus. It was not difficult to catch up with the cart, and Ambrus was easily able to leap atop it. Balancing next to the rider, he was finally able to get a good look at their face. Ah. Change of plan. "My lady, it's not safe for you to travel by yourself, might you not need an escort?"

The city was in ruins. Fires burned everywhere. The streets were flooded with bronze armored Greek hoplites. The Trojan army had crumbled under the sheer weight of their numbers. Hope for saving the city was lost. Only hope to survive remained. Anyone who could still move was making their way out of what remained of their magnificent city. A few local commanders attempted to stage a defense or to prevent those gripped with panic from escaping the massacre, but it was a fool hearty notion. The City of Troy had fallen to the Greeks.

As the Trojan survivors trickled through whatever portal was available, Kyros made his way outside. He watched his brothers and father perish in the Greek flames. Many of his comrades in arms were dead; very few remained alive. Such a wholesale slaughter had never been seen by him at anytime. It was completely discouraging.

Kyros found a young woman and her son. He took the woman by the hand, assuring her, he would help her to safety. The three ran towards the mountains with the few others who survived the carnage. There was not thought to what they would do next or even if they could rebuild their city. Their thoughts were solely lain upon the desire to survive; escaping the rampaging Grecian soldiers bent on killing everyone who resided in this once beautiful gem of a city on the Eastern Aegean Sea. All hope was lost. Despair remained.