The first light of dawn painted the horizon in soft hues of orange and pink as we prepared to leave the village behind. The warmth of the previous night's feast still lingered in the air, and the villagers gathered to bid us farewell. Their eyes, now filled with a glimmer of hope, reflected the gratitude they felt. We exchanged nods, promises unspoken but understood, before we resumed our march.
As we continued down the road, the morning unfolded in serene beauty. The sky was a vast canvas of pale blue, dotted with clouds that seemed to drift lazily along with us. Birds soared high above, their silhouettes graceful against the brightening sky. The chirping of songbirds was a constant companion, mingling with the rhythmic sound of our footsteps.
Up ahead, a group of children ran through a field, their laughter carried on the breeze. They flew kites shaped like dragons, the colorful fabric snapping and fluttering in the wind. The sight was almost surreal—innocence in the midst of war.
Rylan walked alongside me, a crooked smile on his face. "You think we'll see dragons like those on the battlefield?" he joked, gesturing toward the kites.
Lyra chuckled softly from the other side. "If we do, I hope they're just as easy to handle," she quipped, her voice light but her eyes betraying a hint of unease.
"Don't worry," I said, trying to match their tone. "We've trained for this. And besides, we've got each other's backs, right?"
"Always," Rylan said, his voice more serious now. "But still… first real battle. It's something else, isn't it?"
Lyra nodded, her expression softening. "Yeah, it's different from anything we've faced before. But we're ready. We've trained hard, and we've learned a lot. We just have to stay focused."
I could feel the weight of their words settling in, but I didn't want to let the tension take over. "Just remember," I said, "no matter what happens out there, we stick together. We'll make it through this, just like we've made it through everything else."
Rylan grinned, his usual bravado returning. "That's the spirit, Lucan. We'll show them what we're made of."
Lyra smiled too, a little more relaxed now. "And when it's all over, we'll have another feast—one even better than last night."
The three of us shared a quiet laugh, the kind that spoke of shared memories and unspoken fears. The road ahead might lead us to war, but in that moment, as the sun climbed higher and the world around us remained peaceful, it was easy to believe that we could face anything as long as we faced it together.
***
After two days of marching through peaceful countryside, the atmosphere began to shift as we neared our destination. The serene landscape that had accompanied us—the fields of wheat, the playful kites, the bright skies—was now a distant memory, replaced by an ominous sense of foreboding.
As we approached the main camp, the first thing that caught my eye were the crows. They circled overhead, their dark wings cutting through the gray, overcast sky. Their cawing was harsh, a stark contrast to the birdsong we'd grown accustomed to on our journey. It was as if they were heralding the change in our fortunes, warning of the darkness that awaited us.
The camp itself was a grim sight. Soldiers moved about with a sense of urgency, their faces set in grim determination. The air was thick with the stench of blood and sweat, mingled with the acrid smell of burning wood from makeshift pyres. Everywhere I looked, there were signs of the battle that had already taken place—torn banners, broken weapons, and, most disturbing of all, the injured.
Men and women, some barely clinging to life, were being carried into the camp on stretchers. Their wounds were severe—gashes that ran deep, limbs twisted at unnatural angles, faces pale from blood loss. The healers worked frantically, their hands moving with practiced speed as they tried to stem the tide of casualties. The moans of the wounded were low, almost drowned out by the noise of the bustling camp, but they were there, a constant reminder of the reality of war.
As we arrived just outside the main camp, a knight in battle-worn armor rushed up to Gideon. His face was pale, and there was an urgency in his voice as he spoke. "Captain Gideon, you're needed at headquarters immediately. The situation is dire. We… we lost the first battle."
Gideon's eyes narrowed, his usual calm demeanor taking on a hard edge. He nodded curtly to the knight and then turned to us. "Looks like we're late to the party," he said, his voice low but filled with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. "Prepare yourselves. This isn't going to be easy."
As the knight led him away, I exchanged glances with Rylan and Lyra. The light-hearted banter from earlier seemed a lifetime ago. The reality of what we were about to face settled in, heavy and unavoidable. The time for peaceful marches and playful jokes was over. Now, it was time for war.
The cold air bit at my skin as I stood there, staring at the camp. The distant cries of the wounded, the sight of blood-soaked bandages, and the somber faces of soldiers tending to their fallen comrades drove the reality home in a way nothing else could. This wasn't a game. This was war.
Everywhere I looked, the weight of it all was pressing down on me. The smell of iron and death lingered in the air, mingling with the smoke from dying fires. The ground, once solid beneath my feet, now felt unsteady, as if it might give way at any moment. I watched as another stretcher was carried past, the lifeless body on it a stark reminder that not everyone was going to make it through this. Some had already paid the ultimate price.
The realization hit me hard, like a blow to the gut. I would have to take lives—many lives. Each one would leave a mark, a shadow that I knew would follow me long after the battle was over. War wasn't just something that happened out there, in the distance. It was here, right in front of me, and it was going to change me. Whether for better or worse, I didn't know, but I could feel it deep in my bones: I would not walk away from this unchanged.
But I couldn't afford to dwell on that now. I had to survive. More than that, I had to excel. If I wanted to rise up, to protect those close to me, I needed to prove myself here, in the thick of it. Every battle would be a test, and I couldn't afford to fail. Strength wasn't just about power; it was about resilience, about facing down the worst and coming out the other side.
I clenched my fists, feeling the rough leather of my gloves bite into my palms. The path ahead was clear. There would be no turning back, no second chances. If I wanted to protect them, if I wanted to become the person I needed to be, I would have to embrace this darkness and rise above it. I would have to become stronger—strong enough to face whoever dared to stand in my way.