Fulfill the Prophecies

A Blinding Rage

11/28/21

________________________________________________________

Salt tears mixed with iron blood fell for her. Soldiers and commanders alike fell for her. The battlefield fell for her as she was felled on it.

At midnight, the darkest hour her cry had come. Ripping through the barren wasteland filled with trampled flowers yearning for the sun, soaring in the crisp night air, over the hills and cutting straight into my pounding heart. I raced towards her, a scream tearing itself out my hoarse throat. Everything left behind and abandoned, all to reach out my bloodied hand, only to be too late.

Her head once held high, barrelled towards the wilting flowers with a spray of ruby red. Her soft strands of golden hair that always shine in the sun now danced loftily in the breeze, sprong free as her crown riddled with emerald tumbled away in the dirt. Above her stood her slayer, a soldier clad in rough solided armor. I charged to avenge her, but he fell before I could get to him, crashing to the ground as nothing more than a broken mound of a figure. From his stomach the hilt of a familiar pearl and medallion rapier peaked out of the pool of garnet liquid. She had taken down her opponent as her last dying action, a true princess till the very end.

Unbelieving I stood there, still and stoic, over the frame of my beautiful princess and the corpse of her attacker. Wrecked with silent grief yet unable to act upon the well of despairing emotions rising up to choke my lungs, I crumble. Stumbling shakily downwards my body heaves itself in a twisting pain, scraping against the biting grain of the sharp stones and coarse ground. I howl but no tears slide from my eyes, gasps for breath so silent they don't exist. My hand oh so gently grasped hers, mine smeared with crimson, engulfed in scars and worn rough, in stark contrast against hers of smooth sweet honeyed skin, marded only by calluses of someone very familiar with the grip of a sword.

The roar of the battle beckoned me to return to it as a soldier attempted to plunge her broadsword into exposed flesh on the back of my neck. Only to be stopped in a single moment by the sweeping arc of my longsword, slicing clean through her neck. Dead she would disturb me no longer. Dead. That's what they should all be, dead. They had killed her, and for that injustice I would repay them a thousand times over.

A blinding rage turned my world black, the last of my control spent closing those artic blue eyes for the final time. May the angel of death rest peacefully at last. Rising to face the land of war I storm towards the fray, each step echoing for revenge.

If there was a god, that day he was drowned in the red sea of my enemies laid down barren for him. For that day I rose anew as the blood god whole would lay waste to that horrendous battleground.

My blade twisted and thrashed, if eyes were to follow its path they'd see only a gleam of emerald and a blur of gold obsidian, leaving a mountain of bodies in its wake as it sliced and slashed its way through the fray in a hurried desperate fury.

I waded onwards, ripping my sword into biting flesh, feeding their blood to the soil, each drop spilt fueling my blind rage. Person after person, soldier after soldier, body after body, until I alone stood atop the mountain I had built, a single life amidst the thousands of dead.

A land of bones and carnage, gashes gorged into the earth branding it with my wrath, and a chilling sheen of deep scarlet drenched the landscape. My limbs felt weak, my weapon a million pounds in my hand. I had fought an entire war myself, emerging unscalthed with only knicks and bruises. Yet I felt no glory. No victorious cheer came rising from me, only a pitiful whispered whimper escaped my lips. I was wholly empty, and with my heavy torn heart all I could do was drag this shattered soul back to the place my love lied, where I fell at her feet and wept.

Centuries later the name of the blood god would still be murmured, and tales would be told of the girl whose hair was stained pink by the blood of those who she had slain. No one knows what she had lost that day, they only know what she did was done in a fit of blinding rage.

________________________________________________________

I like this one. Kinda inspired off of the one I wrote before "Love", this one is also a representation of love and the loss of a loved one. The difference here is that this one is a romantic relationship unlike the last one and also it's the differences in grief, one is to mourn and the other revenge. I did edit this one (wow amazing, for the first time ever).