Footsteps crumble as the rock below him shatters underneath his feet as he alone stands on the Hollow Pass, on the northern coast of France. The air was filled with the salty scent of the sea, as the moist gravel beneath was mushy yet firm. The sky was a dreadful gray as the storm was soon to approach. It was fitting for the wild feelings thumping about in his chest. He twisted his metal helmet firmly onto his head as he carefully tightened his weapon's belt. He stared at the two ragged mountains, ever so close to each other as figures walked in the distance, through the ancient valley, ever slowly towards his single figure. No comrades, No extra equipment, No honor. This was no longer a fight for defending the land and worshipping his king.
He was being sent to death. Not because of some heinous crime, or some lie somebody told. They sent him here because they thought he was too lucky to survive all his battles. One man against an army of around 500,000. He gripped his sword tightly as he stared down the incoming army approaching him. He adjusted his helmet once again, the black feather on the top swaying side to side. He took a deep breath, his mind shredding any unnecessary emotion except his instinct to survive remained.
Through the cracks of the depressive sky, sunlight began piercing through some of the cracks as the sky changed from a gloomy gray to a golden brown. Following the crisp wind, he stuck his finger towards the group of soldiers in front of him. "Heed thy warning. Tread carefully and thee receiveth to leave with thy respectability and their heads. Taketh a step forward and you'll findeth demise to best a better fate than me." He said as the heavy wind blew around him.
The soldiers took another step even at his glimmering presence, the leader pointed his glaive at the man as he yelled you. "Thou are just a man! We are more!" He cried out as his men charged in.
With the will to live fueling his heart, the man took out his sword and charged in. The feeling of gravity pushing him down, making him move faster as she rushed into the crowd without hesitation as he swung about, slashing in all directions, letting his sword swing around, Suddenly someone tried to kick him down as he jumped up in shoved the sword into the man's mouth and grabbed the other edge as he twisted the man's neck with haste as he went back into the crowd with adrenaline keeping him alive.
He couldn't die here with his family needing him to make it back. He didn't want to die here, so he was going to fight with everything he had. He jumped up onto the brute as he slit his throat as moved around like he was gliding about, each slash more precise than the last. Furthermore, he even starts to chip their copper chest plates with each swing they endure.
This man may have only been human, but he was anything but weak. He was a soldier for England during the Medieval age, a warrior with profound skill of the blade, and extreme luck within battle scenarios. He was Clayton Ashe. The warrior of San Rudel.
As the world slowed down, Clayton turned around towards you as he whispered.
"It's time Siren. It's time for us to go back home."
Siren woke up in a panic, his breathing heavily and his heart thumping. Was that a dream? If so, why did it feel so close to his heart? He looked up at his ceiling as he sighed heavily, laying back down in his bed. He didn't know what that dream was about, but it bothered him deep down. He looked down at his nub, as he knew he could just make a Void arm to use but that would drain his magic, and if his magic was drained, then he couldn't protect himself if Coldstorm attacked.
He got himself dressed looked at his desk and noticed something black next to it. He reached down and grabbed it as he stood back up, observing the black book in front of him. This didn't belong to him as he never wrote anything. He opened it as he observed the first page of the book.
Confession
"I Ana Thornheart have committed a crime. I at the age of 18, killed my best friend's mom in partial self-defense. She attacked the three of us, threatening to kill us, as we all fought back. In the heat of it, I shot her and froze her to keep her from causing any more damage. However, things went too far when Celeste, Siren's sister, started acting weird and threatened to worsen Siren's life if I did not take care of the issue with Charlotte. So, I shot her in the head, in the second degree. Although the world may not know the context of my sins, it doesn't matter. I know my sins, and I'll have to live with them, but one thing is for sure. . . I'll spend every day making it up to Siren the best I can."
Siren closed the journal as he sighed heavily, sitting down and processing the information spat at him.
"So, she was telling me the truth," He thought, as Azazel leaned on his shoulder.
"She sure was a cute one, I'll tell you man. . . " She muttered.
Siren sighed at her statement, as he slapped the book on his hand. "As much as I want to dwell on the past, she wanted to me move forward with my life, find new people, and have more experiences." He states.
Azazel simply nodded her head in agreement as she sat next to him, holding his hand. Silence echoed in the room as sorrow was the only mood in the room at the current moment.
The kids have gone to school, Charlotte and Sam got their own home, and Coldstorm hasn't made it back from his vacation. There was nothing to do except exist on this mortal plane of living. Suddenly, Siren's phone rang, and he noticed it was Clockwork.
"Hello?" He asked putting it on speaker.
"Hey Siren, I wanted to talk to you this afternoon about something. It's about what we talked about in the hospital." He vaguely stated.
"Oh, okay. I'll be at the bar around four." Siren said, catching the memo of what he was referring to, as he hung up the phone.
Azazel smirked. "Looks like you do have something to do today." She chuckled as she went back into him.
Siren sighed as he jumped up and put on a plain black t-shirt, blue jeans, Celeste's scarf, and a thin black jacket on top of it, as he walked out the door. He looked back at his home, and a warm somber feeling felt fuzzy in his heart. Although his life had been rocky for a long time, he felt that he was finally going to do something right for once. His kids were doing well, and his relationship with his family is getting better, sure he lost an arm, but at least he has his left hand still.
Today was a new day.