24. The End of a Season

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A TATTERED FLAG upon a hill of bodies, crushed helmets in the mud

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A TATTERED FLAG upon a hill of bodies, crushed helmets in the mud. Blood stains the tips of her toes as a lone woman crosses over the valley—the fertile soil where corn and barley once grew, now barren, dead, and drowned in a crimson sea which flows down the pulpy mounds in rivers of red.

The wind that sweeps over the land carries the pungent stench of iron and rotten skin. Still, the woman dusts her hands together and releases a long, drawn out breath. Her long dark hair rustles along with, pouring over her shoulders like raven's feathers. Under the shadows of the large black hat on her head, red paints the skin between her brows and her cheekbone like an invisible blindfold.

She eyes the middle-aged man dragging his body across the dirt towards her. It's an injured soldier, and she barely hears him croak out a strained, "H-Help me... I d-don't want to die..."

He's lost one of his legs; amputated, leaving only ripped skin and a gushing pipe of blood in its place. The woman crouches down in front of him, slowly tilting the soldier's chin up with her finger. The dirt under her black nails merge with the dried blood tainting his skin.

When the man sets his eyes on her face, his features contort into an expression of fear.

"Shh," the woman whispers, a small smile crossing her face. "You shouldn't speak, lest the pain takes its control."

The man whimpers, obviously a little out of it due to blood loss and confusion as to why on Earth there would be a woman like her standing in the aftermath of a blood battle.

Ignoring it, the woman inspects his figure to find an insignia, anything that will serve as a sign to which side of the war this soldier had been standing on before spotting the mark of a dragon's head on his shoulder pad. Her smile grows.

"You don't want to die?" She asks. The man shakes his head slowly before letting out another pained moan. "What if I help you take the pain away?"

She leans back a little, putting more distance between them. And then she holds out a hand, palm up, in front of him. Black smoke materialises in between her fingers, and then the man is desperately gasping for air like a fish out of water.

𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 ‣ jjkWhere stories live. Discover now