Spirit Fire - Amos

Chapter 6 - Destruction

The image before my eyes was blurry. I blinked a few times and it cleared, revealing the desolate field in front of me.

     The view I saw now was an expanse of ruins of stone buildings, burnt tree trunks and death in the expanse of rust-orange and blood soaked ground. Writhing flames covered patches of corpses, buildings and dry grass. Bodies lay on the ground, wearing dented, scratched, and bloodied mail armour, their faces distorted and gruesome.

     My body felt different, and my point of view was lower. As I look down, I saw paws instead of feet, but I was not as disturbed about paws as the fields of death. I walked around and surveyed my surroundings.

     The sky was orange with blotches of red and purple, smoke rising into it and catching the light of the sun. The ground a mixture of dirt and sand. Darkened mountains stood in the distance, sharp and menacing, stabbing into the sky.

     My first impression of it all was the destruction of battle. However, as I looked closer I saw dragons laying across the fields, lifeless with too many wounds to count. A battle between dragon and man.

     A cold, static chill ran down my spine. I heard sobbing, and as I looked around at where it came from, I saw a man kneeling before a dragon's corps. He looked as if he were crying for the dragon; he had his hands over his face, but as I walked closer, I saw what he was actually crying for.

     He knelt before a woman, who laid against the side of the fallen dragon, her eyes closed and face limp. Her blonde hair shimmered as he lifted her. Her green and golden trimmed dress draped across her, stained red, and an emerald amulet on a silver chain lay across her neck.

     I walked away and sniffed the air. It smelt of charred wood, death, and decay. There were no trees left. All that was left of them were burnt black stubs poking out of the earth.

     The man's sobbing faded, and then I heard a voice calling a name.

     "Amos!" A man's voice shouted.

     I turned around and saw a man, almost resembling Vitalli, but younger. He was looking in my direction, a scarred hand held out, almost beckoning. He wore tattered mail and a soldier's uniform, spotted with crimson.

     "Amos," he said quieter this time, light in his eyes.

     I stepped forward and he began to smile.

     Come to me, Amos. We must go. He came closer and reached his hand towards my forehead.

     I could not pull away, I could not resist. A strong, spiritual force pulled me towards him. When his hand met my forehead, a translucent cloud of blue aura surrounded us.

     Once again, he called. Come, Amos!

     Darkness.