Soturi Academy: Secret's Lost

XVII. Remembrance Quarry

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(Warning. Unedited.)

A cry escaped his lips as his gaze fell upon his fallen comrades, their bodies twisted grotesquely, bone and blood, a fleshy sight branded into his mind. Their eyes blank. He was no stranger to war, but this...was no longer a war. This was unprecedented. This was a complete and utter annihilation. He attempted to stand up, his legs shook before giving out and he collapsed once more into the dirt. Another sob welled up inside, tearing at his chest wanting to make itself known, he tried to hold it in, but it burst forth. Echoing in the silence around him. He couldn't be the only one.

So many bodies. So many. Was there no one left? His armor felt heavy, and his weapon foreign. They'd lost. It was disappearing. She was angry with them. He looked down only to see his bone in his leg exposed. The flesh hanging out and spattered in clumps. He ran his tongue over his teeth, his throat parched, straining under the action. He couldn't fail here.

"Please!" he cried out desperately. Choking and huffing. Was this the end? His body trembled as his fingers searched around in the hot sand for his weapon. Wrapping his fingers around the warm rod he pushed himself up once more. Heaving, he took a step forward as his body buckled once more. Fed up, he surged forward once more a scream tearing from is throat. His spear remained at his side while the katana rested in the dirt. The Divergonain of the battlefield had complete changed. Forests no longer reign, instead a sandy desert landscape smiled benevolently at him. While the corpses of his comrades laid strewn about—like dirty laundry. It burned him. Sent a hateful rage sweeping furiously through him. They were the saviors. Good was always supposed to triumph over evil. What went wrong?

Perrin sent a prayer toward the heavens. He could only hope the others—his brothers managed to escape this mess. It was futile, but the thought somehow provided brief comfort. His magic waned. Would he lose control? He could afford to. He'd rather fall upon his own blade.

The sun glared down on him. At least all the gods hadn't abandon them. Shuffling forward once more he scanned the surround area. Bodies of the fallen hardly recognizable and their weapons lying forgotten on the battlefield with no signs of life. There was nothing left. Nothing.

The pain in his leg was getting unbearable. But how could he treat a wound such as this. Healing magic was never his forte. Where were his brothers? Surely they survived this catastrophe. Perrin dug into his eyes, the dirt and grim briefly burn them. He was losing too much blood. Opening them once more, he squinted far into the distance. Someone approached. The enemy should be long gone. They'd been decimated. The taste of defeat sour in his mouth. He called out.

His vision was failing fast. Perrin leant heavily on his spear. The air was hot and humid. Blood and grime clung to him. When the figure finally upon him, he smiled in relief.

"Helios," he whispered gratefully. He would be healed in no time at all. "Are the others alive?" he inquired. When met with silence, Perrin stared into his Helios eyes. Odd. They were blank. His lips twisted into something sinister, a smile that sent shivers down his smile. When realization finally hit, it was too late. Helios sword came down slicing through his flesh. The blow was meant to send him to the other side, but Perrin managed to lean back. Regardless, he would bleed to death at this point.

"Why?!" he croaked out. If he was to perish her, he wouldn't do it alone. "Our comrades!" He cried out.

"I owe you nothing!"

"The gods, they are angry! You are the reason that Orad will..."

"The gods are nothing!" Heilos hissed.