The Warrior of Avelyn

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I'm sorry.



War.

Who knew three letters could cause so much dread? Three letters that commence the destruction of empires.

No amount of training could ever prepare you for the chaos that war brings. Nothing could mentally prepare you for what comes with war.

Loss.

Four letters that leave a hole in your heart. 

Sometimes you gain something from war, like overtaking a land or overthrowing a cruel ruler. But you will always lose with war; so many souls are reaped with blades of steel. Families get torn apart. Sanities are thrown into the wind from all the horrific scenes that war brings.

Death.

Five inevitable letters. No one escapes it. But with war those five dreadful letters come too soon and to those who don't deserve it. War has casualties; children die, their mothers cry. Killing innocents, just for their personal growth; where's their humanity?

How could he be a king if he orders his men to sacrifice their lives for his own greed? How are soldiers expected to fight, to kill and tear all that they once held dear too? Why should their hands be the ones that draw blood from the opposing army? Why should they shoulder the weight of killing fathers and sons for something that wouldn't change their lives other than pouring so much guilt into their open wounds? 

But alas, the world was cruel because it had cruel people in power.

And so they fought.

Their swords clashes but the ringing of the metal was drowned out by the canons that sent out fiery projectiles.

Clara's hand felt heavier with every slash at the son of a mother. She felt internal wounds opening with every fatal blow she sent to the opposing side.

They're just following orders, they don't deserve death.

That was all Clara could think of as she fought with every fiber in her body. She hated it. She hated how gruesome it was. It was so wrong but she had to fight.

She had to fight to protect her sister.

She had to fight to protect her best friend.

She had to fight to honor her father.

She had to fight to help Edwin and Julian get home faster.

She had to fight to stop another child from reaching the same fate as her.

She had to fight.

And she did so skillfully, easily maneuvering her sword in ways her opponents couldn't block or guess. She landed harsh blows with her engraved sword, the steel no longer glinting in the sunlight. 

The earth that once was green was now red.

War is loud.

Clara's senses were on overdrive, allowing her to block the attacks from the warriors that had sneaked up on her in time, despite the noise being drowned in the tumultuous surroundings.

Julian stayed by her side the entire time, to ease his nerves by making sure that she's alive. They fought side by side and helped each other to overcome the overwhelming number of attackers coming their way.

Arrows flew in the air before making a home into the enemy's bodies, sending them limp to the ground.

Time seemed to freeze during the war; days went by agonizingly slow and they felt like years from all the emotional drain they faced in the battlefield.

The knights switched so that they could rest and tend to their wounds while the new batch continued to fight the armies of Crounia and Cupia. 

Edwin was tending to a wound on Clara's abdomen as she squeezed her eyes shut from the pain of the disinfectant chasing away the dirt clogged around it. The wounds weren't as bad as they would have had she not been wearing the armor made for her smaller size.