On a boulder above a victory- if you could even call it that, the tears roll down the cheeks of a figure standing on top.
Away in the distance, plumes of dust rise from the incoming enemies.
Hooded and cloaked, the man mourns the death of his comrades, friends. Family.
"How did it come to this.." He turns to see the only living beings left alive on the battlefield. Just five including himself. None without a scratch.
"It is time for you to get out of here." The first figure states.
"What do you mean "you"? Faris! There is no way you are staying here!" One of the four figures on the ground exclaims in dismay.
"Just look at me." The man standing above the others smiles weakly, removing his blood drenched hand from his side. "I'm done for. None of us has the strength to continue, or to even heal our wounds. They won't stop until they believe the last one of us is slain."
"Then we will stay here with you!" The man on the ground exclaims even louder than before. "Right!?" He looks around desperately at his other comrades, who look away and down at their feet. "Right!?.. Guys.."
"Ian. My entire life was one big war. I wandered from one battlefield to the next. This end comes as no surprise for me. It's different for you all. This isn't your time."
"But.. We're comrades.."
"No. We're family. Don't let my death be in vain. Someone has to survive. You all need to pass on what you know. If the relay ends here, then all our deaths will have been in vain. Don't let that happen."
The man, Faris, climbs down from the stone, flinching from the pain in both his muscles and wounds, and embraces the others.
"Run. Don't look back. And please.. Remember me. Ian, Murdock, Raymond and Dolos. Farewell."
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The Witch's Relay
FantasíaThe witch's relay.. Nearly two-hundred years ago, the great witch hunts began, resulting in a near-extermination of everything magic. Had it not been for the few passing on their teachings in secret, the art would've been all but lost. The people wh...
