A young soldier kneels before a battlefield. The smell of blood and metal permeates and lingers in the air like a crass incense burning, striking an indescribable feeling of dread and sorrow through his heart, eyes laying on his fellow brethren, most killed or maimed in all but one strike each.
Breathing sounding so loud in his ears that he cannot hear the falling debris of the crumbling buildings around him. He clutches his hand on his severed left arm, unable to comprehend the situation.
Standing in front of him, covered in a black, tattered cloak and eyes shining a blinding white, holding a war scythe fit for no less than a reaper of souls... An avatar of the gods, no doubt.
Why was she standing in front of him? Where had his arm gone? What of his murdered brothers in arms laying cold and lifeless all around the horrendous scene? He cannot remember.
His heart, so unnaturally noisy and distracting that he cannot even think straight. He cannot hold his breath, until he can no longer fixate his gaze on anything but the cloaked deity standing in the middle of it all, as if the leading role in a bloody play...
It was supposed to be an easy battle. A simple village raid that would net them supplies and allow them to march further into the Kingdom of Ferias, securing a major victory in the war that had been active since decades gone, but here they are, their entire army reduced to nothing but corpses and cripples.
The young soldier's eyes start to tear, as the only chance to finally end the war and keep his family safe from enemy forces becomes nothing but a distant dream.
Consciousness fading, he drops to the hard floor below, all his senses finally numbed from the blood loss, his breathing becoming weaker.
His heartbeat, now waning, grows quieter, while his head forcibly turns to his side from the fall, allowing him to notice another man lying close, the same fate had befallen them as they stay motionless in a pool of their own lifeblood.
No matter, he thinks to himself, as he grits his teeth with all his remaining strength, and the world inevitably starts to grow dark, the last thing he hears is but one last sentence from the dying man besides him: "Have mercy on us all... Evelyne..."
YOU ARE READING
Unblinded Faithful
FantasyOn the continent of Yulin, the land of magic and divinity, where the worship of deities dictates everything from the traditions and habits of the common folk to the fighting styles of knights and magicians of high kingdoms and empires, a young boy f...
