When the sun falls

War versus man

Screams of determined men, and horrified women who’d bore weary children filled the field. The sound of swords scoring through skin and the sound of breaking bones is all that could be heard. A gruesome sight of men with tattered skin, drooling wounds, and broken skin, bodies of not only soldiers but also children that would decorate the field, and the bodies of those accused of heinous crimes perched on posts like victory trophies. Seeing, hearing, those of the loved, screaming and begging for mercy as they perish to a cruel man's hand. What was once made of love, the future, passion, hopes and dreams; were now restless souls lying amongst the land of Kausai, where he watches those of the dead mingle. Weeping for their loved ones. 

Amongst the war stood two mighty descendants, side by side till death do them part. Bestfriends of the past, present and futures to come. A secrecy of love and desire masked upon glory and determination. Amaris, the son of Darius; the god of anguish. And son of Verity, queen of the Ravolian Empire. Amaris proudly led the war, vowing to protect his kingdom to save the lives of millions. Beside him fought Casimir. He was the son of a woman who was blessed as if she was a goddess herself; Irene. And the son of a rotten father Jose. Casimir was a strong dutiful man. He followed and served, an honored man in the Ravolian Empire. He was admired and looked up to, a strong, willful hero. A soul that represents the loving and peacefulness of what should be the ruling world. 

The Kingdom of Pylos was dropping in numbers, their soldiers fell to the floor, fast, with screams that could be heard across miles. Shattering of skulls and screams of lost dignity and fury echoed upon acres of land, across nearing kingdoms. The enemy's army thinned, those alive retreated leaving the Ravolian Empire to be victorious. Men hollered in joy within the midst of pained groans and the reeking smell of iron, mocking the fleeing enemy. Tonight had been their victory, protecting their land and confounding their riches. 

The Ravolian Empire had been deemed victorious, the warriors of the century. Amongst the mourning kingdom, people cheered, celebrating their victory, toasting to anew, to a victory that’ll burn a place in history. Men hoisted Amaris, high and bright as they cheered praise to their prince, women endured his beauty, soaking in awe of what is merely just a dream. Amongst the distant dead, people drink away their sorrows, drunkenly celebrating, the night dies as people drink like hogs in restless slumber. 

Distant drunken laughter enclosed Amaris as he wandered the town, drunkenly stumbling over his steps, feeling a sense of hopelessness as he searched. He didn't know what he was searching for, perhaps something his father had given him and went missing in battle? The pendant his mother gave him? He didn't know. All he knew is that something felt like it was missing. Everything was cold, and quiet. The crash of waves were loud but the sound of crunching sand beneath his boots was louder. His head was hurting and his body wracked with exhaustion, unwilling to rest. The luminescent shine of the moon mimicked the lifeless bodies on the floor. He aimlessly walked around, left alone with his thoughts, what was missing? Why was he here? The village square had been far out from the tavern Amaris had been. 

A glistening light within the sand caught the prince's eye. Bulky and bright left the man confused. A drunken hand, rough and calloused, picked up the item, confused but curious. Examining the item as if it's a foreign language being read. A rush of reality hit, nausea and that heart wrenching feeling swallowed Amaris whole. The bulky, glistening light underneath the weeping moon, resembled a beautifully decorated golden blade. A cornelius flower carefully carved, handmade by skillful hands, a weapon of deeper meaning than defense. 

Oh.

Amaris took a harsh breath, his mouth dry. There was only one sword as such, it had been a sword he had personally commissioned for him and Casimir. Casimir. That was the missing piece. The mournful hours were never joyous as men cheered their victory, there was a reason why silence echoed louder than a falcon's scream. His arms felt weak, knees unsteady, eyes burning with pain and anger as he held a wistful gift to cherish what they had. A Cornelius flower to represent bravery, beauty, pride, and peace enlaced to match the Delorme flower, of fury, elegance, honor and power. The kingdom's native flower of honor and prosperity enriched by a flower of beauty and pride. This had to be a coincidence. Right? The once beautifully made sword had now been covered in dry blood, the blade being on its last wits ends. Amaris gripped the sword, taking slow steps as he cautiously approached bodies one by one. He wondered how this sword got to its place, so beaten up and withered. Cautiously he approached the last nearing body. And oh.