This is the tale of the tragically inclined young man who unfortunately becomes an apostle of the God of Death while all his friends become servants of the good Gods!
This is a story of how his peaceful childhood comes crumbling down in the utmost b...
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My blood covered hands lost their strength as they fell to my side. I slowly stood up and began to look around.
Various bodies were littering the town square all punctured with arrows, I saw the artist who had drawn us just moments ago, he was sprawled on the ground with an arrow straight through his eye. I looked past him and near the town center entrance I saw the two children I told the story to this morning. At least, I think it's them, it's hard to recognize them since their skulls and bodies were torn horribly from the arrows, shreds of skin or chunks of flesh torn off to expose white bone.
All of a sudden my body caught up with what I was seeing as I felt extremely nauseated. I turn to the fountain near me as I vomit into the red water.
Huh? Why was the water red?
As I look at the fountain I see a couple bodies floating in the water pierced with arrows. I guess they fell in when they were shot with the arrows. Their life blood had seeped into the water dying it red.
A town center littered with bodies and a blood fountain to match it, truly this scene was too unbelievable. Too bad the artist was dead, this is imagery that one only comes across once in a lifetime.
I started chuckling as I sat down on the edge of the fountain. It was a defeated laugh. Deep down I realized that someone was attacking the town, that I should run away, seek help, do something. I realized deep down that I shouldn't waste my dad's sacrifice, who quickly protected me with his body without hesitation.
I realized that all deep down and yet, I couldn't move.
Something was gripping my body, creeping from my heart and sending its black tendrils to every inch of my body locking me in place.
It was despair.
My father was dead, the city was being attacked and was probably surrounded. What was the point of running? Despair had crept and my head drooped.
There was no hope.
Then I heard it, a weak voice calling out to me.
"Y-yule..."
Huh?
"*cough* are you okay Yule, can you move?"
I'm probably very far from okay.
"*cough cough* you should runaway Yule..."
Runaway? What was the point?
Who was calling out to me? Everyone here was dead. I looked towards where the voice was coming from and that's when I realized that I had subconsciously avoided looking at that spot this whole time due to fear of what I would see. That spot was where the other person who was protected by my father lay, with a single arrow through her back.
That person was Nel, her sundress was soaked with blood and a bits of blood flowed out of her mouth, blood must have been flowing into her lungs making it difficult to breath. And yet, as our eyes met she didn't look pained and she didn't look scared, she looked... relieved?
