SUAW Workbook

The Spirit of Writing: Prompt 1

❗️❗️❗️SPOILERS FOR WARFIRE❗️❗️❗️

Warnings: Blood and injury

Prompt: Write the death scene of an existing character between 400-800 words.

The sword clattered to the ground as the body dropped, and Carthadeus didn't dare look down where he felt his shirt become wet. His sword arm shook as he felt the pain slowly spread throughout his abdomen.

"Carth?" came a weak voice behind him, and he glanced back at his surviving companions.

Milora stood at Az's side, holding the much taller and lankier boy up by his waist with her other hand to her mouth. Carthadeus would've laughed at the sight if it weren't for Milora's tears or Az's pale face as they stared at his wound.

Then there was Nagan who stood directly behind him, his arms hanging limply at his sides and a forgotten, bloodied sword in hand. Carthadeus couldn't put a name to the younger's expression, but it was harsh enough to remind him of how young Nagan was. They all were young, and they all were promised to be kept away from this situation. Their parents were promised. But now Gath laid dead behind them, Az was seriously injured, and who knows if Aitor even made it out to get help. Hell, Nagan, the youngest of the group, just had to kill to save his friends.

I now understand why Professor Fai always made such a big fuss about us getting involved in the war, Carthadeus thought humorlessly, and he looked—really looked—at Nagan one last time. Maybe if we had more time and less pride, we could've been friends.

"Nagan," he said, quickly assessing the other to make sure his sacrifice wasn't in vain, "make sure they get out alive."

"Carth—"

"I mean it, Nagan. I don't need Az to tell me that this is bad." His hands were already growing cold and numb. Blood pooled at his feet. He was surprised he was still standing at all. "We don't have the resources to fix this, and help is miles away. Just get everyone out of here. I'll try to buy you more time."

He could hear angry voices coming their way, probably those just escaping whatever spell Aitor threw at them before flying off on Gossamer. He turned to shuffle forward only to be stopped by a bronze hand grabbing his arm.

"You and your stupid martyr complex." Nagan's voice trembled. Whether from grief or anger, Carthadeus didn't know. He tried pulling away, but the hand held firm. "We're not leaving you behind!"

"This is your war!" Carthadeus snarled, wrenching his arm away. He stumbled back feeling lightheaded. "Finish what you started! Now go!"

With a few sharp words, he erected a barrier between them. It wasn't as strong as a dwarn's might've been; even Nagan could've broken it with one strike if he really wanted to—for a moment it looked as if he would—but instead, Nagan only glared across the translucent wall. That glare was returned on Carthadeus' end, but his expression softened as he took in the faces of his companions for the last time; all children in a war they had no business being in.

"Be safe, and don't let that stupid hero complex of yours get you killed."

Carthadeus stood ready to face the Kinsmen, his sword raised and his back to his...friends. There must have been something there if he was sacrificing himself for them. Behind him he could hear Nagan's footsteps walk away—always light and brisk—and his hushed words of reassurance to the rest of them. There was a reason why he picked Nagan as his second, after all, and he never regretted it as he heard Nagan lead Milora and Az out of the tunnel.

As their steps faded to silence, he became more aware of his breath becoming labored and his head growing heavy. The adrenaline was wearing off, and he wondered if Nagan saw how badly his arms trembled.

Up until that moment, he never knew how scared he was to die.