Astral Flow

Chapter 58

Fire.

Iron.

Sparks.

Clashing Weapons.

Blood.

Death.

Scenes all too familiar to Shade ran rampant through his mind, another nightmare perhaps?

It wouldn't be the first, nor would it likely be the last.

Weapons stuck in the ground, many broken while others were merely left behind.

Had it not been for the war torn land around him he might have mistaken it for a graveyard, though this was no graveyard, this was a battlefield.

One he could never forget, no matter how many times he tries to.

No amount of magic or memory erasure could ever fully erase it.

She wouldn't let him, after all, this was when their contract was formed.

The rain poured down on him, burning as it hit the open wounds on his body, his armor broken apart from the battle that had taken place.

He could barely get a single breath of air in as he forced himself fully upright, now in a kneeling position as he weakly scanned the battlefield.

This couldn't have been the end, right?

There's no way, not after everything they'd been through.

Yet from his perspective all that remained were husks, broken bodies of those who once walked alongside him.

Shade knew he couldn't stay here though, not if there was anyone else alive, so he reached over to his weapon, an iron spear, and hoisted himself up from the muck.

His body ached and tried to give out, but he wouldn't let it, forcing it to move forward with each step, the rain growing heavier by the second.

Though soon his mind was wracked with guilt as he began passing by the bodies of his former comrades.

Oto.

Feros.

Radogan.

Lily.

Ryder.

All gone, defeated in battle by one simple move.

Had they really underestimated their opponent so severely?

Then the sounds of battle caught his attention, one that raged on even after everything had happened.

He had to know who survived, who had been pushing themselves this far.

They should've ran, if they did they would've lived to see another day.

Though as he made it up over a hill his eyes saw a sight he hadn't expected, yet one that made perfect sense in his mind.

The one who had survived the blast was none other than Aranea, her eyes burning bright like hellfire as she refused to give in, never bowing to the hand fate had dealt her.

Despite her clear injuries, broken armor and frayed yet flowing crimson hair, she never backed down or gave in, opting to die fighting instead of running.

Her opponent on the other hand was a different story, showing no signs of damage or weakness at all.

The Dark Lord, Conqueror of Terminus, Ruler of all Realms, Tamer of the Fell Dragon.

His armor looked to be a dark silver with clear signs of wear and charred black in some areas, spikes protected his wrists and shins, a simple knightly helm rested atop his head, though the thing that stood out the most was his black cloak accented with gold and dark purple sigils hung from his shoulders.