ATLOP: Trial by Fire

The Lives Lost to Make a Legend

There is angst ahead

There are mentions of WWII.

I did not describe anything graphically in regards to WWII but I am aware it is a triggering subject for some.

I hope you enjoy the chapter, let me know what you think.

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Know your history.

I stood in a field. No. Not a field. A graveyard.

In front of me was a man, pale skin, black hair, and sharp gold eyes.

He had his hands raised and was chanting in a language that sounded like twisting whispers.

The air felt of burning shadows and steady rocks.

With a hazy blur the air filled with faded figures. The gold eyed man (he was in his twenties I thought) lowered his hands, his gold eyes glowing.

He spoke, the strange twisting whispers filling the air. The ghosts (because that's what they were) spoke back.

He spread his hands, drawing my attention to the shallow pit that was in front of him.

"Abel!" Cried a voice.

I turned to see a man striding forward, with black hair like the man with the ghosts, but stormy blue eyes and dark skin. Beside him was a woman with green eyes (like mine) shining bright.

The man in front of me ignored them, speaking quicker.

One of the ghosts stepped forward, stopping to drink from the pit (that I now realized was filled with a liquid). It rose, it's appearance now firmer.

It was a man in an army uniform, a medal visible with a strange cross on it.

"Abel, stop right now!" Cried the woman.

He spoke, a language that had lots of rolling r's and soft vowels with hard consonants. He spoke slowly, seemingly uncaring of the two figures heading this way.

Abel (I guessed that was the man's name) ignored them both. He spoke again, that whispery language, and the ghost responded.

The scent of salt water filled the air.

Abel nodded solemnly then suddenly jerked, throwing himself back just in time for the liquid in the pit to surge up, nearly wrapping around him.

I spun to see the woman with her arms raised and her eyes narrowed. She swept her hand out and the liquid scattered, misting through the air and emptying the pit.

Abel turned to them with a snarl, looking very angry.

"What do you think you're doing?!" Abel snapped with a clear accent. It reminded me of the language the ghost he'd been talking to spoke. Rolling r's and hard sounds.

"Abel, you can't mess with spirits," The woman implored. "I know that you want to find them-"

"You know nothing."

"Abel," the man entreated, a different accent to his voice. It was Spanish maybe? "We understand that you want to know what happened. But you cannot endanger others in this quest. People are dying."