Drakonis

The Past

"Loran! Watch your back!" Nestor's urgent shout cut through the chaos as I spun around, my heart leaping into my throat. I saw a gun pointed straight at me, the metallic glint of its barrel reflecting the firelight.

I dropped to the ground just as the shot rang out, the bullet whizzing past me with a sharp, echoing crack. The near-miss left me breathless, my pulse racing as I quickly regained my footing. The battle around us was a maelstrom of chaos, the air filled with the shrieks of combat and the acrid stench of smoke and blood.

We were entrenched on the east coast, desperately trying to hold our position. The enemy had launched their assault with ruthless surprise, their forces overwhelming us. Despite our best efforts to evacuate civilians and organize a defense, the situation was dire. The lines of our defense were crumbling under the relentless assault.

Through the haze of battle, I saw more humans charging toward us, their faces grim with determination. I gritted my teeth and fought back, my strikes fueled by a mix of fear and fury. Each blow, each parry was a fight for survival, a desperate attempt to keep the enemy at bay.

A distress call had been sent to the southern border, and Uhroh and Eli had rushed to respond. I had begged Queen Velnera to let me join them, to leave this brutal fight behind and aid our allies. But she had insisted that my presence was crucial here. She had mentioned something about Olha's will, that my role here was imperative. As much as I resented being kept from the southern conflict, part of me understood the necessity of my position.

I glanced at the battlefield, my thoughts a tangled mess of fear and regret. Every clash of weapons, every scream of pain, felt like a hammer striking at my resolve. The weight of responsibility pressed heavily on me. I was fighting not just for survival, but for the hope that we could hold this line long enough for help to arrive, for a chance to turn the tide.

The sounds of battle roared around me, the earth shaking with the impact of distant explosions and the thundering rush of enemy troops. I could barely see through the smoke, my vision blurring with fatigue and adrenaline. The once-familiar landscape was now a twisted, nightmarish battlefield, the enemy closing in on us from all sides.

Nestor's voice cut through the tumult again, snapping me back to the present. "Loran, we need to regroup! They're breaking through!"

I nodded, pushing aside my inner turmoil and focusing on the task at hand. My breaths were ragged, my muscles aching, but I fought on, driven by the fear that if we fell here, it would be a devastating blow to everything we had worked for. Each moment was a desperate gamble, a prayer that help would come in time and that we could hold out against the relentless tide of enemies.

As the battle raged on, I struggled to keep my fear at bay, my thoughts a whirlwind of uncertainty and dread.

More humans charged forward, their ranks swelling as they pushed deeper into the village. I slashed through the oncoming attackers, my blade a blur of steel as I fought to defend our position. The crackle of fire filled the air, mingling with the desperate cries of families and children. The village, once a place of refuge, had become a battleground, and the sight of smoke rising from burning homes only deepened my sense of urgency.

Amidst the chaos, I could hear the frantic shouts of those trying to evacuate the women and children from the island. The situation was deteriorating rapidly, and the horror of what might happen if we failed to protect them was a constant weight on my mind.

In the midst of the battle, I saw a small figure darting through the smoke and flames. It was a child, no older than six or seven, running through the burning debris with wide, terrified eyes. The child's path was perilous, the chaos of the battlefield closing in around them. My heart skipped a beat as I spotted a human soldier aiming a gun directly at the child, the muzzle pointing menacingly at the tiny figure.