Rebirth

25. Journey to the End

Dear Journal,
            The life that fate has sewn its threads to create for me is woven in sadness and despair. Despite this reality, I've decided to wear this garment with pride and valor,  for it was destined for me because its weight can only be lifted by my strength.

                                                      - 𝓔𝓵𝓲𝓪𝓼 𝓢𝓽𝓮𝓮𝓵𝓮
(1605)

The snowstorm had ultimately placed its frosty winds to rest as its viciousness subsided to a light but cold breeze.

In warmer times, the entrance to the once considered 'great city' of Garshank was quite conspicuous since the trees of the forest had separated to line what could be called crossroads. The right path leading to the city and left leading to their cemetery.

It was not difficult to truly decipher what direction one should take in order to enter Garshank as the trees on each path spoke raucously to guide any stranger.

The trees leading towards the city were perennial and lively as their fluffy foliages were filled with encircling butterflies and birds who sipped nectar from their blossoms and frolicked among the leaves, occasionally seating themselves within the tree feathers.

The sun seemed to shine brighter on that side, as flowers grew all around their roots, creating homes for insects while appealing beautifully to the human eye.

An assortment of animals such as squirrels and cats often sat in the canopies as they enjoyed the stalwart build of what was often called 'old ladies' due to their gracious demeanor; an indication of life and the greater beyond.

The trees on the left however, leading to the cemetery were doddery and wilted. Some had naked limbs; weak and feeble as they rotted from the inside while others had their leaves browned from the sun's rays.

There were vultures circling above the bare limbs while black birds perched upon their withering arms watching commuters pass.

The strong smell of death and decay was also quite eminent from constant improper burials since the dead were often subjected to neglectful sepultures.

There was nothing welcoming about the path and all signs did tell that it only lead to the lifeless.

Presently, at the beginning of winter, you could not decipher the paths unless you knew of them before, being that all the leaves, both wilted and green, had shed and the earth was now covered in snow. It was pertinent to mention also that Garshank had fallen, much like the inhabitants of its cemetery.

Nevertheless, this reality was not the most startling thing to behold at this crossroads.

The 9th company had been the first to arrive at the crossroads only to bear witness to the hundreds of dead bodies singularly lining both pathways.  

With Elias's company of two hundred and fifty warriors now reduced to that of a hundred, their weariness from battle was replaced by grief and horror as they all gaped at their fallen allies.

"Dear, Lord." Damien said lowly, his breath ragged from battle but expression clearly repulsed.

"They are all..." Melonie said as the realization hit her.

"Dead." Elias clenched his jaws, looking at the oversized creatures lying in the red painted snow.

The trolls were as large as ogres and just as hideous with their thick, yellowish skin and hunched backs. Each of them had their eyes open as they revealed small, beady irises that seemed to gaze at nothing. Another prominent feature on their faces were their bulbous, warty noses that further aided in their unattractive appearance.