Feral Regality

Chapter - 1

Battlefields. To perhaps most, they bring forth one word- blood. It brought forth memories to me. Memories of a simpler time. Memories of the loved and cherished, memories of a time when there wasn't fear but only happiness in the hearts of people that I am now surrounded by as we warmed ourselves up, waiting anxiously for the horns to blow- the signal to start the fight.

The signal that starts the war against the one we all feared.

The king. The beast. The god.

I let my eyes drift left, falling short on the one man who I knew among these thousands, the one man that gave me comfort.

My commander.

He stood at the beginning of our troop, leading us to our untimely inevitable death, his face painted in nothing but braveness and loyalty, not a shred of fear visible on the face of the fiercest warrior I had fought with.

"May the gods help us." A small whisper rose, countless others repeating the phrase, a bitter feeling of hope rising in the womb of death.

I didn't bother to say the prayer that rose, not an ounce of respect rising at the gods that forced us into training and sent us here to fight, while they cowered behind their golden gates, whispering orders left and right of what we should and shouldn't do.

A whimper registered in my ears, making me turn myself right to look, wondering if there had been an unfair means used before the real battle.

A small part of me mused at the little man that cowered at the silence that ensued moments before the beginning, a larger part of me sympathizing with him.

Another part of me wanted to whimper with him. Unfortunately, it wasn't time for that yet.

"It'll be okay. Don't think about the certainty. Hope for your darkest desires as you fight." I heard myself whisper over the raging in my ears, catching the eyes of the blond man that turned his sharp gaze on me, eyes wide when he realized I heard his call of weakness.

I opened my mouth to give the man some comfort before we lost ourselves in the war, but as it was in its nature, the cries of the horrendous war cut me off, just like it had cut through every life that stood around me, uprooting our lives.

A yell of utter anger and grief left me as we ran, charging forward in the dusty arena of the battlefield, eyes caught on the enemy that charged forward to us as we did them.

Dust burned our eyes and gave a meaning to the tears that collected in them, the collective war cry that left every lips similar to mine as it drowned the loneliness out.

And that was when every eye fell to the darkness that rose as a storm, sprinting forward from the enemy side, leaving them unscathed but promising nothing but despair to the other side, to us.

That was when I first laid my eyes on the miracle and curse that was the rebelling god.

The beast whose immortality scared not only us commoners but gods as well.

The black cloud of storm stood just behind his men, a sinister decoy to only burn fear in our hearts with what it could easily do.

What he could easily do.

The crash of men against men came just as suddenly as you expect it to, the roars and snarls of enemies and allies mixing together as swords clashed, our sprinting slowed to a run as we made contact with the beast king's army.

My hands rose to stop the onslaught of blood, sword swinging around in a wild and precise dance that I was taught for a while now.

Cuts, scrapes and wounds were acquired as we marched forward, hoping to dent the mighty army that we were against.