Saint's Guard

Prologue

The dragoons held their positions, their carbines aimed at a dozen heavy cavalry charging towards them. The most feared cavalry in the realm, the Saint's Guards. Behind this line of cavalry is a figure fully covered in an all-white cloak; not a strand of skin or a strand of hair can be seen. However, beneath her translucent veil, her eyes begin to glow with a bright blue hue. Knowing full well what was about to happen, Major Lusignan of the Dragoons yells,

"Kill that witch!"

A cacophony of shots erupted, dropping a few of the charging heavy cavalry. To fire another volley was too late; they were still charging. The dragoons unsheathed their sabers and prepared to receive the cavalry.

The clash of metal and flesh ensued. Even when the Dragoons outnumbered their enemies twelve to one, one Saint's Guard could take down ten Dragoons. The major, fearing the worst, sets his eyes on her target. To save his men, he must do what needs to be done. He charges past one guard, then another. One grazes the major's throat with a lance. The major kept on charging. Then,...

His hands grabbed the saint's shoulders. She twisted her around and used her as a shield from her own guards. Major Lusignan pulled out his pistol and aimed the barrel at her temple. Blood gushes out of his throat. He needs to let them know that it's over, but no words come out of his mouth. He's losing consciousness. He must do something now to end the war. It's right here, right now.

"AAAAAAAAAAGH!"

A bloodcurdling scream stops the others from fighting; one by one, they look at the origin of the noise. They find the major with his hands wrapped around the saint. Her white cloak is now painted with the major's blood. The four remaining guards dropped their weapons to the ground and kneeled face down on the ground. They have failed to protect their saint.

A handful of the dragoons rushed to their commanding officer's aid and some secured the saint. The major, having lost so much blood, is now pale and weak. He falls into the arms of his soldiers. His soldiers yell out for medics, but the rest of the army is still at war in the main lines. His breath was ragged and frail. He has done his duty to end the war; he is ready.

Then, a hand gently touches the throat where he was bleeding. A bright-green glow illuminates from her touch. Lusignan stares at her. In that one moment, the wind blew on her veil, and their eyes met. That was the last thing he saw before he passed out.