The Darkest Question

Chapter 1

  The woods were deep, dark and soundless, with only the light snowfall giving my platoon and I some contrast against the shadows. Everything about this moment is perfect; I couldn't help but take a moment to absorb the melancholy beauty of it all. I was about to end the lives of seven people, who were but a few of thousands which our Sovereign deemed traitors to the empire. This was my job: to track, capture, and kill these people who would see my beloved country fall into a miserable, corrupted, and empty democracy. In fact, this was my official commission: that I enforce this decree in the Eastern District of DuMont, as a Captain in the Sovereign's Janissary Core. The Janissary Core allowed me special privileges that the rest of the Armed Forces didn't have and, especially being an officer in the Core, I had tremendous power, power to basically do what I wanted. The coldness of the handle of my officer's sword shot me back into reality, and I turned around looking at my platoon, who stood, beautifully, at attention waiting for my order. I looked at their uniforms. The uniforms were all black, with a dark blue front and gold buttons, with the seal of our country on each one. My beloved country. "Please, pleeeeeeeeeease, I beg you; I'll stop. I'll leave the party. I'll even help you guys. Please, Please." She began to walk up to me from her place on the line, beside the dead tree, but my men stabbed her with their bayonets before she could take a step closer. I looked at her, as she bled from her stomach and chest. Another one began to cry from the line, begging us to stop. I looked down at her, her breath creating an icy fog that seemed to cut through the stillness of the snow. I unsheathed my sword and brought the blade up to her neck as she cried, profusely, on the hard cold snow, shivering with frost and with fear. Her eyes lifted and locked on mine. Those blue eyes begged me to have mercy, but the more I looked into them, the more I reviled in the power I had. The power to end her life, to chose whether her life would end in this dark wood or whether I would allow her to live her life, full with her family, her friends, and her party. Her party. No, not her party. Not the party that is destroying my beloved country. I looked up for a moment, taking in the depressed beauty of the forest, and it was beautiful indeed. I felt the weight of my uniform. I pushed the sword toward her neck, just enough to not pierce her skin and stared at her. My uniform bound me to execute her, and I delighted in my commission; I would do my Sovereign proud. My muscles tensed up, and I raised my sword up in the air, slicing the still snowy night, and elegantly cut through her neck. The rest of them on the line began to scream, so I looked at my men and raised my sword in the air again; My men then straightened and aimed; I planned to say "fire" when I moved the sword down but decided that it wouldn't fit with the stillness of the forest, so I swiftly brought my sword down; My men opened fire.

The noise from the rifles echoed through the darkness and bounced off the rest of the snowy ranges from afar. The blood on the snow, at first, was blurred from my frosty breath, but after it cleared, the blood become clear. It was beautiful. I looked back at my men, who stood at attention. They were cold. They were tired. They were hungry. But, they stood there, like a wall, in complete and absolute loyalty, looking straight ahead waiting for my next order. It was at that moment, while I began to sheath my sword, that I herd a most unnatural noise, that came through the darkness of the wood. The noise played again: It was almost as if a trumpet was being played at an evil pitch, a low pitch that roared through the sky. The sound was sinister, something not meant to be herd. My men and I looked, intently, through the dark and snowy wood. I moved forward a bit, my boots became saturated in the blood of those we killed. My men followed me in silence, as our boots crushed the snow beneath us in unison. I unsheathed my sword again, with a loud ring. "Be silent", I said to them. I know they were, already; however, I also knew if one of them spoke, it would have been the product of fear, to break the uneasy tension, and the rest would follow suit: Fear is contagious. The trumpet sounded again, but this time the ground shook with the sound. The snow stopped falling and the wind stopped howling, All I could do was look around me, and my men, and try and come up with some rationale. "My Lord"!, my Sargent called. In a trance of confusion, I turned toward him and saw his eyes plead with mine not to believe something, not to believe what he was seeing. I looked at him strangely and then looked in the direction he was turned towards, and I saw it, a wolf. The wolf sat there, with high and sharp ears and piercing blue eyes. He sat there, in a most unnerving way, with his tail freely swinging back and forth and his eyes staring straight at mine. It was as if it were waiting for something, standing back from a scene about to unfold. I needed to move: My body was starting to shiver profusely, and my men were hastily waiting for my order. "Shoot it", I said with certainty. My Sargent looked at me, quickly, and then turned towards one of the men;

"Micheal, kill it".

Micheal, perhaps the most loyal of all my men, raised his rifle and aimed down the barrel. We all looked at the wolf, in some sort of awful trance. We heard a click. We heard another click. "My Lord", It won't fire, "It's frozen". I looked at my Sargent again, in frustration: He then looked at Gabriel, another private. "Gabriel, try yours". Gabriel, likewise, raised his rifle, aimed, and tried to pull the trigger. "My Lord, the trigger is stuck". I looked back at the wolf; He was still sitting there, with his tail swinging back and forth, only it was a slower pace then before. I started to get angry, so I looked at another one of my men. "Raphael", I said with finality. He took his gun and then, has be began to clutch it, suddenly dropped it, in the the blood soaked snow. "My Lord, It's frozen over. I can't even hold it". Right then, that trumpet sound thundered through the sky. An icy wind blew so hard that it through my men off their balance and into the blood. I looked, quickly, back at the wolf who stood up on its hind legs, showed its gaping teeth, and sprinted toward me. By the time I could even look down on my already frozen sword, I felt as if a horse at just collided with my chest. I didn't even have time to look forward, I flew backwards, and I landed back straight on the cold, hard frozen ground. I looked sideways and saw the darkness of the forest, I felt the coldness of the air on my open skin, where my uniform was cut. I pick my head, which was pounding, up and the wolf slowly stride over to me. He placed his black paw on my chest. The icy wind blew through his pitch black fur, as his eyes starred down into me. As those eyes stared into mine, I immediately felt an atrocious summation of painful emotions: sorrow, loss, anxiety, stress, uncertainty, confusion, desire, longing, loneliness, and despair. These feelings overwhelmed me, until I started to tear. The frosty air freezing my tears as they scratched through my face. I couldn't take anymore of this. I had to look away from this beast. I quickly glanced the other way; I saw my sword that had flew off me. I reached for it, covered by the blood drenched snow, and right then, I heard the beast snarl; I quickly turned back to him and his ferocious face lunged toward my heart. My heart. My icy lungs. My eyes. I looked up and saw nothing but the oppressive darkness of the grey clouded sky, and the tops of black petrified tree branches, and then, blackness.