Seed of Sin

Chapter 2 - The Glory of Battle

Wandering through the darkness, occassionally interupted by swords of light cutting through the treetops, I fell into my thoughts.

I saw nothing, but I heard voices. Desperate, crying, overridden with a repetitive banging. I felt arms around me, clutching me tight. The grip was soothing, careful, caring. I felt a warmth, a comfort, but didn't know why. I heard a loud crash. The grip became tighter, more distressed. I felt alarmed, but still saw nothing. I heard voices, but couldn't understand what was being said. One sounded righteous. He had a deep and brooding voice. Another sounded angry. I could hear violence in his words. The last voice was raspy, but it sounded... solicitous. I could tell she was asking for something, but adamant in it as if she would not have any way other than hers.

Then it all changed. I heard a roar accompanied with a great heat on my face. Another cry, and I felt hotter. More and more screams, and the heat rose. Suddenly, I felt myself turn and heard another crash. The heat was gone, and I felt a cool breeze roll across my skin. I heard screams still, but they grew quieter until they died in the distance. Soon, I heard nothing more than the wind ride past me.

It stopped.

I was still. The air was still. I drowned in silence. It was so quiet, I began to hear my ears ring. I began moving again. It was slow. I felt the arms holding me loosen their grip, and I felt a hard surface against me. It was cold, but soft. The arms caressing me became hands supporting me, which soon became the calm, dark air enveloping me.

I no longer felt warm. I no longer felt comfort. Something was amiss. It was cold, it was silent, I could feel it was dark. I could feel...

I snapped back into reality as a smell cut my nose. It smelled like smoke. I raised my head, doing my best to follow the scent. As I approached it, it grew stronger, sharper. It no longer smelled like smoke, but burnt flesh. The stench became so strong, my eyes suffered from it. Soon I found the source.

The forest opened up, and I came upon a field of ash. The surrounding trees were ripped apart, some entirely by their roots, and lied broken and burning. Crevices tore into the ground, the little grass that was visible charred to black. My eyes wandered in awe. In all of my years, the only action I had ever seen, I was in the middle of, and in all my years, I had never been a part of anything like this. The field stretched far, forever scarred by the battle it had seen. I shuddered as a chill ran up my spine.

My right hand found its way to my sword. I suddenly became aware of the situation. Standing before a battlefield, fires still lit, flickering with life. This fight was recent. I scanned my surroundings as I slowly backed into the forest again. I heard a rustling of leaves, and spun around rapidly. I froze, and watched the shadows. Silence and death. There wasn't a soul in sight. No movement, no noise. It had to have been the wind.

I loosened my grip on the blade as I relaxed my muscles. I took a deep breath, and looked up to the sky. It was still dark, but I could see light stretching from the horizon. Then I saw a shape in the air. It was black, and it drifted towards me. I squinted at it. It gently fell, and soon I saw what it was.

I put out my hand and it settled onto it. It was a feather, a black feather.