In the grand scheme of things, Felix was nothing more than a soldier.
His existence? A pawn. His breath? A mere echo. His very soul? A forgotten whisper.
Snow fluttered and danced in the wind, the gray sky fading in and out of focus. He blinked, and the world spun back into a sharper, albeit still muted, reality. A bitter wind lashed at his exposed face, stinging his skin with icy needles as he felt a profounding numbness overtake any sense he had left.
Felix would die, left to rot as another casualty.
The sky flickered again as he fought to maintain his ever-dimming consciousness.
The cold only seeped deeper into his bones, a relentless assault that promised certain death.
Felix would not be remembered.
