Metanoia

Prolouge

Regardless of what once shadowed us in the past, hope will be re-ignited, to burn away the darkness.

“...”

.•°•*•°•.

There was an old legend that was often whispered around the world. It goes like this: In the aftermath of every war, regardless of how big or small it was, a pure white figure would appear in the destroyed, blood-soaked land.

An illusion? A ghost? No one knows.

Some call it Death. They say that Death was simply collecting the souls of ones who died fighting. Fighting what though? A meaningless war, a rebellion, a chance for freedom, a century-year-old conflict? It was rumoured to be bad luck if you visited the battlefield before Death was finished reaping the lost souls. Many claim that the ones who have seen "Death" have gone mad with fear. Claim that they simply lose the will to live. They wasted away into nothingness, only skin and bone.

But the ones who have seen "Death" from afar, recall how it wandered here and there, pure white lilies arising from its steps. At times it would even kneel and scream. At who? Fate? Destiny? The world?

The question remained in the people's minds, eons later. Many were curious yet did not dare to approach, for the fear of the unknown.

.•°•*•°•.

“Guider.”

The sinister voice could only be heard by "Death" itself but it chose to ignore it in favour of cradling the rotten corpse of a fallen soldier.

“You claim to guide them, to protect them and yet look at you. Mourning the death of a creature that disfigured your so-called beautiful earth. Humanity has rotten, stop trying to see beauty in what is rotten.”

The sinister voice was gloating, inhuman maybe and yet "Death" turned a deaf ear to it, placing its palm over the soldier's temple, and murmured a blessing.

“I am mourning because they are my children. What pains them, pains me too.”

With that, it gently placed the human down and stood. Golden eyes that were once bright and full of life, were now dull as they scanned the seemingly endless battlefield and the number of endless bodies.

And then it spoke, the divinity in it.

“It is true. My children have changed over the aeons. They have withered and rotten just like you've told me. But I know them. I know how they once stood in full bloom, their fragrance spread across the world. They taught me love, kindness, laughter, all the things that made this world so beautiful, so worth fighting for. The world may have forgotten, but I have not. I will carry them, and treasure them with me forever. They gave me my courage, my strength, my faith, and my hope for a better tomorrow. They never gave up, and I will not either. They have emerged from each tragedy, brighter and stronger than ever. The flame within humanity may have been extinguished, but it can be re-ignited. You can try to destroy that flame as much as you can, but it will emerge brighter, stronger than ever.”

Golden eyes flashed, and just like that, a spark was ignited.