# Memories of the Fallen**
The dim light of morning stretched across the military camp, far from the ruins where Rayan and his group fought their battle. This base was a stark reminder of humanity's ongoing struggle—a fragile haven where soldiers, medics, and commanders worked tirelessly to keep the remnants of civilization alive.
Inside a cramped command tent, Commander Elias sat alone, staring at a faded photograph on his desk. His rough hands trembled as he traced the image of a young girl with curly hair and a bright smile. His daughter, Alara.
The weight of his responsibilities pressed down on him like an iron shroud. He had sent her out into the world, knowing it was dangerous, knowing he might never see her again. The hope that she might help forge a better future was the only thing keeping him from despair. Yet, every night, the fear crept in—the fear that one day, she would become just another casualty of this endless war.
Outside, the camp was alive with grim activity. Troops returned from the front lines, some carried on makeshift stretchers, their bodies wrapped in bloodied bandages. Medics rushed between them, shouting orders and offering what little comfort they could.
A young soldier stumbled into the medical tent, his arm a ruined mess wrapped in layers of white gauze. His face was pale, and his eyes were hollow, but he held onto a fragment of hope as a nurse reassured him that he'd survive. Others were not so lucky. Among the injured were men who had lost limbs, whose faces bore the haunted expressions of those who had seen death too closely.
In the corner of the tent, a soldier named Darien sat hunched over, his head in his hands. Blood still smeared his armor, though none of it was his. He replayed the battle in his mind, over and over, unable to shake the images.
---
**A Memory of Blood**
The mission had been a simple one: escort a small supply convoy through a known danger zone. But nothing ever went as planned. The monsters came from nowhere, swarming them with terrifying speed and coordination.
Darien had been beside his best friend, Elias, a man who had always kept their spirits up during the darkest moments. The two of them had fought side by side countless times. This time was no different—until it was.
The ambush began with a roar that shook the earth. A massive creature burst from the trees, its hulking form clad in thick, jagged scales that deflected bullets and blades alike. Behind it came smaller beasts, their claws tearing through flesh and metal as they descended on the convoy.
"Darien, left flank!" Elias shouted, shoving him aside just as one of the smaller creatures lunged. Its claws grazed Darien's shoulder, but Elias drove his blade into its throat before it could do more damage.
Darien staggered to his feet, heart pounding as chaos erupted around him. The air filled with the screams of men and the guttural growls of monsters. Soldiers fought desperately, their weapons firing in every direction, but it wasn't enough.
"Elias!" Darien shouted, seeing his friend locked in combat with the massive leader of the pack. The beast swiped at Elias with claws like scythes, forcing him back.
"I've got this!" Elias yelled, slamming his shield against the monster's leg. The blow barely made it flinch.
Darien wanted to help, but another creature charged him, its jaws snapping dangerously close. He swung his sword in a desperate arc, catching the beast across its neck. Blood sprayed, hot and metallic, as the monster collapsed.
But when he turned back to Elias, it was too late.
The leader had pinned Elias to the ground, its claws digging into his chest. Blood poured from the wounds as Elias struggled to hold the creature back. He locked eyes with Darien, a desperate plea written across his face.
"Run!" Elias shouted, his voice breaking.
"No!" Darien screamed, charging forward.
But the beast was faster. With a sickening crunch, it clamped its jaws around Elias's throat, silencing him forever.
Darien froze, horror rooting him to the spot as his best friend's lifeless body slumped to the ground. Around him, the other soldiers were falling, one by one. The convoy was in ruins, and the monsters showed no signs of relenting.
---
**The Final Stand**
Rage and grief surged through Darien as the leader turned its glowing eyes toward him. He tightened his grip on his sword, ignoring the pain in his battered body.
"You're not taking anyone else," he growled, his voice shaking with fury.
The beast roared and charged, its massive claws swinging down. Darien rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the blow. He struck out with his blade, aiming for the vulnerable joint beneath the creature's arm. The sword bit deep, and the monster howled in pain, staggering back.
"Fall back!" Darien shouted to the remaining soldiers. "Get out of here!"
The others hesitated, torn between their loyalty to their comrade and their dwindling chances of survival.
"Go!" Darien roared, dodging another swipe from the monster.
The soldiers finally obeyed, retreating toward the relative safety of the trees. Darien stayed behind, every swing of his sword fueled by the memory of Elias and the lives that had been lost.
The monster's claws raked across his armor, tearing through the metal and into his flesh. Pain flared, but Darien refused to stop. He drove his sword into the creature's chest with all his strength, twisting the blade as it sank deep.
The beast let out a final, deafening roar before collapsing to the ground, its blood pooling beneath it.
Darien staggered back, his breaths ragged. The battlefield was silent now, save for the distant cries of his retreating comrades. He looked down at Elias's broken body, guilt and sorrow crashing over him like a tidal wave.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice breaking.
-
**The Present**
Back in the medical tent, Darien's hands trembled as he stared at the blood on them—blood that wasn't his, blood that wouldn't wash away no matter how hard he tried.
A medic approached him, her voice gentle. "You did what you could. You brought them back. That's more than most can say."
Darien shook his head, tears slipping down his cheeks. "It wasn't enough. I should've done more. He… he didn't have to die."
The medic placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "We all carry losses in this fight. But you're still here, and that means you can keep fighting—for him, and for everyone else we've lost."
Darien nodded, though the weight of his grief didn't lessen. He vowed then and there that he wouldn't let Elias's sacrifice be in vain. He would fight harder, smarter, and he wouldn't rest until the monsters were destroyed.
Outside the tent, the camp was preparing for another battle. The war wasn't over, and Darien knew that the only way to honor his fallen comrades was to keep moving forward.
Because the Rising of the Children wasn't just about survival—it was about reclaiming their world, one bloody, broken step at a time.