"I BELIEVE to transcendental ideas; divine, astral, complex, and majestic."
Pisces Code - 1:2
Enveloping an island was darkness glittered with the same as ever moon and bizarre stark red stars. Tantrums of waves were overwhelmed by the roars of humans fighting each other and the clanking of their weapons.
A man was lying under a pile of corpses seemingly oblivious to the screams, curses and cries of others around him. He raised his hand as if reaching for a specific star above him before he let out his final breath.
A wave of army appeared from the thick forest. They were all wearing the identical maroon garbs with only a slight difference towards high officers - the emblems - that most low level warriors didn't carry one at all.
"For the sake of the 12 Almighties, do not waver, do not coward, do not stop until their deaths serve the silence. Protect this Ringside Island in the name of highlord Ignatius!" a man, raising his sword as his signal of attack, roared. He was more catching and recognizable due to his silver star-emblem on his left shoulder than his scraggly beard overshadowed his chin. He let his army run towards the opponent's troops, intentionally lagging his steps. His army blended into another army of green garbs - the warriors of highlord Homobono - fighting those blue garbs warriors trying to reach the seashore.
A wave of ships advanced, aiming for the seashore. Arrows on fire rained towards them hitting some of the ships and started fire but the ships successfully boarded and blue-garbed warriors immediately jumped out of the ships. The arrows didn't cease and some hit their companions, but they seemed so resolute to hit the dry sand only bathing a second glance to their fallen companions. Their opponents seemed determined not to let those steps thump on the dry ground but they crushed them to fall back. Those opponents frantically advanced, swinging their swords towards them, but even with the advantage of their numbers, the blue-garbed soldiers pushed them back.
The sounds of clashing metals went on, painting the water and sands with their blood, but no one cared. Bodies floated, bodies buried, but no one wept.
At the east side of the battle was a young lady floating on the water. Her eyes were fixated in a distance as if overlooking the battle. When it calmed down a little, she swam towards the seashore creeping behind dead bodies with her demure presence. "Weak," she mumbled, realizing how humans evolved. She staggered at her feet as she reached the land. She limply advanced as if she had just learnt to walk for the first time because she really was.
Having a closer look, she saw the most nefarious fights of all times.
A young warrior in green garb cried for back-up as his comrades were slowly being reduced, but the scraggly-bearded man he had been signaling for help looked away as if he hadn't seen him. The young man cursed under his breath. With no other choice, he fought back. He was cut beneath his eyes. He winced as another blade made it through his flesh on his shoulder. He struggled, ordering his men to back-off, but the enemy pounced simultaneously, ending their struggles.
The young lady stared at his body expecting something miraculous to happen. Second after a second has passed and the body lies lifelessly in the pool of blood. She closed her eyes, meditating the body. When she opened it, she couldn't help but grimace at her state.
"I did truly exhaust myself up there," she stared above and clicked her tongue.
Meanwhile, the blue-garbed commander pounced on the opponents who threw themselves to his path towards the scraggly-bearded man. He was wounded, just slightly visible because of his dark skin. His intrepid eyes were directly staring at the scraggly bearded man as he swung his sword as if just pulling weeds from side to side. There were four warriors following him.
Sensing danger, the scraggly-bearded man looked back at the young man who cried for help to ensure the plan went on properly. Securing that he wasn't standing anymore, he blew his horn, loud and clear.
A rumble of footsteps echoed from the forest as the monody of clanking weapons served their ears. Head after head emerged from the darkness on the southern part of the island. One of its warriors came to him and reported, "Lieutenant Colonel Errol, all is going as planned."
He just nodded as his response and waved his hand to shoo him out.
The commander was alerted as he tallied the numbers of the incoming troops of his opponent - around a hundred.
'Bloody stars! That is their third wave already,' he cursed. He scanned his surroundings, counting his men and computing the probability of winning.
He hauled one of his men and shouted an order near his ear, saying, "SEND THE FIRE!"
The man saluted and replied in his loudest voice, "Yes, commander!" His voice was just devoured by the surrounding noises but he knew it wasn't the time for a clear reply. They needed action not words.
A moment later, an arrow on a blue flame shot in the air illuminating the eerie dark island. The commander advanced again, not threatened by the incoming troops. As the time passed, as the opponents' troops advanced, he couldn't notice any disturbances from the sea. He hauled another man of his troops and asked for a telescope. There, he saw his supposedly back up, fleeing.
The young man squinted eyes, glared vehemently to the fleeting ships. His hands were trembling as his teeth were clenching. The telescope broke into pieces before he knew it.
"Yaaaah!" he expressed his anger with his sword continuously swinging it against the enemy. The back-up troops of the opponents have joined the battle making an inimical fight against them. His men started to feel unease, sensing the silence of the sea. He danced, leaping and swirling and ducking with his sword, spitting blood out of the opponents. His men knew those moves, they understood it. It was his signal. A death dance!
'That daunting smile, pompous walk, and baleful eyes are all hints of his spurious agreement of this alliance. My poor judgement will kill us all and that's my fault. I should have not trusted him. The delusion of camaraderie is always a delusion,' he was mad at himself and sad for his people. The four men following him earlier were nowhere to be seen. He assumed that they met their demise. Inside his mind, he prayed, 'May the 12 Almighties bring peace to all of you.'
Realizing their doom, his troops swung their weapons as if their lives depended on it because it really did.
The young lady strolled over to a young man plumped on the bloody ground when the corner of her eyes noticed the commander's odd soul - ancient and astral- a soul which should not belong to a human. She slipped here and leaped there heading to the commander instead.
The commander gasped heavily to catch his breath as the enemy approached him warily. Though surrounded, no one could deny his death performance that was splendid and deadly. Hefting his swords against the wary opponents, he resumed his death fighting spirit. He seemed to sense and predict the strikes of the enemy until someone tapped his back.
Alerted, he instinctively swung his sword aiming the throat to whoever that person was. For all he knew, no one could dodge his danger radar. And whoever that person was, he knew it was not one of his men.
That person swiftly avoided his sword. He was dumbfounded by what he saw; she! Wearing a wet tattered purple gown that seemed to reflect the radiance of an amethyst and velvety straight black hair tucked from behind adorned with intricate headdress. She has a delicate hand reaching for his shoulder, but he avoided it by slightly slanting his body. The most distinctive feature of her was her cold eyes glancing at him as if he wronged her.
The opponents pounced towards them and he caught and avoided their strike simultaneously whilst fixating his gaze at the young lady who only avoided the strike and seemingly didn't have any thought of striking back. She doesn't carry any weapon at all. He couldn't help but secretly felt awe as he intently stared at her graceful and swift moves.
Before he could process the information about her, she ranted, "What are doing in a human body? You have the luxury to enjoy the mundane world but you don't have the time to find me? Do I really need to resort to this idea? Or you all just wanted to see how I truly get mad, aren't you? Where are they?"
The cries and shouts of the surrounding made every voice be eaten and not be clearly heard. He thought it would be the same to her, but he was hearing her as if she was just normally ranting on a person catered with silence. For a second, he was listening to her incredulously. He stared stunned at her failing to keep his attention to the fight. That very moment was the biggest mistake he did - losing concentration during a fight.
The young lady promptly passed beside him, sweeping him on the side. Before he could react, he saw the bloody sword struck through her chest. Blood flowed from the tip of the sword as she seemed to slowly fall over his eyes.
She fell with the sword stuck at her chest - half conscious.
He had seen many gruesome deaths than hers and he did pay no heed to them because of his rule of not showing weakness and losing concentration on a fight in front of opponents even if it means death.
The sight of her body lying unconsciously on the bloody ground made his heart ache. He didn't know why or how. In that moment, for the first time in his years in a war, his senses opened up as he clearly heard the cries of his men, saw the horrible deaths of humans, and felt the ache of losing men. His hands trembled.
His opponent's troops weren't that generous to give him a moment to reflect. They didn't cease to strike leaving him no room to back down.
"COMMANDER GILES!" his men cried as they tried to approach him to save him even if they knew it was just for naught. The moment the fleet that should have backed them up fled, it was their doom.
His troops were slowly reduced. The clanking of metals and cries slowly died down. Time consumed Giles's strength but he did not give up struggling until someone knocked his head from behind. He fell on one knee but the enemy seemed not satisfied to him just kneeling on the ground whilst heavily wounded. They pounced at him sending punches and kicks but didn't strike with their weapons. He stared for the last time at the young lady lying in the pool of blood before he completely lost his consciousness.
⨳ ⨳ ⨳
Amidst the mountain of dead bodies, pools of blood, and deafening silence a pair of eyes opened, greeted by the same view of the sky. She feebly stood up feeling the headache and hunger of the body. She clicked her tongue in displeasure.
As she was searching for a suit that could fit her, she noticed a woman - dark brown skin - heavily breathing over a pile of dead bodies.
The woman, though weak, was smiling as she stared at the odd dark sky, wounded right hand pressing a severe cut at her neck. She knew that it would be her end soon, but she didn't let her death be wretched as she already was. She could not shout for help and she would not for she knew she was in their opponents' den and all of her comrades were sure met their demise too. There's no point in fighting her life anymore.
A figure suddenly blocked her view, catching her sneaking a peek above; a young lady with an unfamiliar tattered tailored purple gown. She closed her eyes waiting for her end as she barely whispered with her thick accent, "And here I am, thinking that I will see the dawn for the last time. May I know your name?"
She caught her breath and continued, "I came here without knowing many names of my compatriots and it's my biggest regret."
She has asked but she didn't expect an answer. Amidst her wondering dying thoughts, a gentle and soothing voice replied, "Clio."
She chuckled, pleased to receive a reply. Though, she couldn't tell her accent. Mouthful of blood spurted and flew out at the corner of her mouth but she seemed not to mind it. She wiped it with her weak and tired petite hand. She honestly commented, "I am Sophia. I'm supposed to hate you but I can't because I know you are all just defending your land and people as we are."
She paused looking pensive. "What is it really like to live and die if we only knew its vague concept?" She didn't expect any answer from the opposite party standing over her blurry sight. She had seen a lot of dying men and women, young and old, but neither of them knew the answer.
She looked at the sky even though she couldn't see it more clearly than before, "I might be able to answer it sooner."
"Do as you wish Clio," she waited for something to happen as she closed her eyes hoping for a painless death. A cold hand felt her wrist as her dyspnea wildly attacked causing her to completely lose her consciousness.
A faint light glowed at Clio's hand. She opened Sophia's eyes and change occurred. Sophia's black irides were changed into light blue reflecting a swallow sea.
She looked at her gown and then looked back at the woman. Hesitantly, she pulled its skirt off and rolled the woman on it. She dragged her to a carriage at the rear of the forest. The animals that were pulling it fled, so there was nothing to pull it on.
She hurriedly looked for other humans that showed signs of fighting death. A man just behind the carriage crawled at her but his heavy wound deprived him from moving more than he did before he lost his consciousness. Clio approached him and did what she did to Sophia. He touched his pulse with her hand emitting pure light as she opened his eyes revealing the different hues of his irides, sometimes the mixtures of red, black and purple, sometimes the mixtures of blue, white and yellow, and sometimes the mixtures of pink, green and gray. She stood up and let the time claim his life.
Recalling what she intended to do before she noticed the commander, she immediately searched for the same man that she succeeded to find lying on the same spot but obscured from piles of corpses. She could hardly shunt those corpses with her remaining strength and achieved success. She threw her body next to the man to catch her breath whilst doing the same thing she did to Sophia to make sure she hadn't saved the wrong kind of man. She easily noticed the conspicuous cut under his eyes when she peeled it showing a luster of light blue irides. She puffed a turbid air before she got up and continued her self-assigned drudgery.
Humans who showed multiple colors on their irides were left behind to die as she had no plan of pushing them deeper to the pit of nothingness. Overall, she found five more men - all were soldiers - one blue-garbed man, three green-garbed men and a familiar green-garbed man with a slit underneath his eyes. She grabbed extra green garbs too, stripping dead soldiers.
Wearing the green garb she snatched from the dead, she lifted its sleeves, walked to the darkness of the forest, and began to hunt beasts to help her roll the wheels.
A few minutes later, she came with three wolves, elusive might be, she tamed those beasts beyond belief at humans' point of view. One of them has a peculiar cut on the right ear. She placed that wolf at the front of the harness to lead the other two. Amidst their sharp fangs, and hungry eyes were their soft wools that were too pleasing to caress but she doesn't have that luxury for the time being.
She raised her head sternly, staring at the red stars, 'I need to find my stone.'
The earlier eerie atmosphere was now desolated with only winds producing sounds on leaves and whispers on ears.
Without looking back, Clio reined the rope.