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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Teens
- Theme: Fairy Tales & Fantasy
- Subject: Ethics / Morality
- Published: 03/02/2022
Battle Ash
Born 2004, M, from England, United KingdomAs the figure opened his eyes to see the field there was nothing but black dense ash. He looked about to see if there were any survivors, he couldn’t quite know. He was standing on top of the body of a dead knight, giant, wearing rusted and destroyed chainmail that scraped onto his corpse with the wind. The figure shook his head and stumbled back, there must have been survivors somewhere. If there weren’t, all of this was for nothing.
He slowly flung his tattered blue shoulder cape on his back which held a dead sigil of a kingdom. A kingdom that thought with another with devastating consequences. His helmet was once gold and innocent as if the light of the heavens seemingly blessed it with everlasting love and protection. He kept wandering to see two dead bodies, stabbed together by one long spear. What was the point of everlasting protection if it only protected yourself?
The figure groaned. Was that a tear? Why them? He could not begin to explain why, he huffed and yanked his helmet off. When seeing the apocalyptic field without a shield, it beats you subtly without shouting. Eyes widened and brain doubting, he kept walking to the top of the hill.
He made sure to look behind him. The battlefield layed quiet, now a graveyard for the unburied. Trees that were once blossoming with childlike life now decimated to nothing but infamous ash. The enemies and his own corpses laid among the rubble of clashed swords, some plunged into the ground, some on the floor lying peacefully. Unlike the others. Their souls had long departed to the celestial plain he hoped. Not for him though. The hungry pits of hell waited for him. It’s what he thought for. It’s what he secretly wanted. The ruined paladin could have told himself multiple times that it was heaven, but he knew his faith was shackled to his duty. Faith or Order? Wasn’t it his job to keep both?
He finally made it to the peak. A circle of demonic amber fire, with black veins crawling away from it. The paladin looked at it and shook his head,
“Be thou gods, what have happened?” He mumbled, shaking his head.
Another knight was also standing there,
“Do not be worn brother, the battle is over.”
“My lord! You survived!”
The lord, a lord of dust and ruin, looked up in the sky and then back to the paladin. His eyes dried with tears and his mind broken,
“I survived. Yes.” He mumbled. “But my soul has not.”
“How can that be my lord?”
“Is your soul destroyed as well Paladin Thomas?” The lord asked, his sword was barely holding it together, wrapped in feeble bandages.
Thomas shook his head, he couldn’t admit that his soul was lost in that empty void of the battlefield, a paladin should keep the faith. But did he?
The lord continued his staring into the field, his head turned back towards the Paladin and then he looked down onto the beaten ground with the angry amber circle. Cracking the ground as it was.
“It is our duty to keep the ring safe.” The lord mumbled out.
“Of course, my lord, you must place your sword in it so the world can keep going!”
The lord scoffed depressingly, he looked at his sword,
“You think this can save us?”
“It has to be my lord!”
“I’m afraid,” The lord said before breaking the sword in half, the paladin stumbled back, his faith was severely being challenged here, “It cannot be. We must leave. This constant cycle of war and blood is not getting any better.”
The Paladin dropped down and tried to pick up the shattered shards of the lords sword, “We must!”
“No we don’t.”
“How? What will the gods think?”
“You think the gods look down on us and judge us? You think they are happy with what we have become? I was born into the ash, my fate was sealed to this long tradition of keeping the world safe from the “darkness” that the Oracles keep babbling about. I was in that field you know? And I saw this young man. Fresh, almost childlike. While he wasn’t born into ash, he was born into blood. And he died in blood. No one will remember him. Can’t you say the same about the rest?”
“We fight because no one else will remember them! My lord, have you lost your mind?!”
“No, I have not. I have only abandoned what I was anchored to. Your faith is gone as well.”
Paladin Thomas shook his head, “We..we can try again…”
“Forgive me Paladin, but this burden must be ended. The cycle can be ended.”
“WHAT?!”
The paladin stood up and stormed straight in front of the lord,
“You cannot be serious! You would give up the whole world just because of a death?!”
“I have gained something that you don’t have. Thomas. Empathy. It is called Empathy. You and your brotherhood don’t seem to care about that. Forcing young men and women to fight in these wars and you are nothing but a deranged piece of FILTH!”
Without thinking, Thomas grabbed the sword and plunged it into the lord's chest, blood leaking out.
Blood was spat out of the lord's mouth, as he fell down on the floor. Thomas stumbled back and grabbed his head.
“Oh god...what have I done? I-my lord...I am so sorry…”
He kneeled down, prayed to the lord, already dead. Pointless.
He slowly looked to the left of him, the amber ring was glowing, and a sword made of embers was drawn from the ground, he looked at it, entranced.
“Perhaps...this land needs new lords…”
Ruined Thomas clenched the sword and he could sense a sudden dark power surge through him. He was not holy. The gods judged him. Ironic ending isn’t it? Poor Paladin Thomas, his own faith made him cause the land of Manton to be drenched in a plague of dread. The sparkling armour is now corrupted. There were new lords. But none could say if they were for the better or worse.
Battle Ash(D.H. Stoker)
As the figure opened his eyes to see the field there was nothing but black dense ash. He looked about to see if there were any survivors, he couldn’t quite know. He was standing on top of the body of a dead knight, giant, wearing rusted and destroyed chainmail that scraped onto his corpse with the wind. The figure shook his head and stumbled back, there must have been survivors somewhere. If there weren’t, all of this was for nothing.
He slowly flung his tattered blue shoulder cape on his back which held a dead sigil of a kingdom. A kingdom that thought with another with devastating consequences. His helmet was once gold and innocent as if the light of the heavens seemingly blessed it with everlasting love and protection. He kept wandering to see two dead bodies, stabbed together by one long spear. What was the point of everlasting protection if it only protected yourself?
The figure groaned. Was that a tear? Why them? He could not begin to explain why, he huffed and yanked his helmet off. When seeing the apocalyptic field without a shield, it beats you subtly without shouting. Eyes widened and brain doubting, he kept walking to the top of the hill.
He made sure to look behind him. The battlefield layed quiet, now a graveyard for the unburied. Trees that were once blossoming with childlike life now decimated to nothing but infamous ash. The enemies and his own corpses laid among the rubble of clashed swords, some plunged into the ground, some on the floor lying peacefully. Unlike the others. Their souls had long departed to the celestial plain he hoped. Not for him though. The hungry pits of hell waited for him. It’s what he thought for. It’s what he secretly wanted. The ruined paladin could have told himself multiple times that it was heaven, but he knew his faith was shackled to his duty. Faith or Order? Wasn’t it his job to keep both?
He finally made it to the peak. A circle of demonic amber fire, with black veins crawling away from it. The paladin looked at it and shook his head,
“Be thou gods, what have happened?” He mumbled, shaking his head.
Another knight was also standing there,
“Do not be worn brother, the battle is over.”
“My lord! You survived!”
The lord, a lord of dust and ruin, looked up in the sky and then back to the paladin. His eyes dried with tears and his mind broken,
“I survived. Yes.” He mumbled. “But my soul has not.”
“How can that be my lord?”
“Is your soul destroyed as well Paladin Thomas?” The lord asked, his sword was barely holding it together, wrapped in feeble bandages.
Thomas shook his head, he couldn’t admit that his soul was lost in that empty void of the battlefield, a paladin should keep the faith. But did he?
The lord continued his staring into the field, his head turned back towards the Paladin and then he looked down onto the beaten ground with the angry amber circle. Cracking the ground as it was.
“It is our duty to keep the ring safe.” The lord mumbled out.
“Of course, my lord, you must place your sword in it so the world can keep going!”
The lord scoffed depressingly, he looked at his sword,
“You think this can save us?”
“It has to be my lord!”
“I’m afraid,” The lord said before breaking the sword in half, the paladin stumbled back, his faith was severely being challenged here, “It cannot be. We must leave. This constant cycle of war and blood is not getting any better.”
The Paladin dropped down and tried to pick up the shattered shards of the lords sword, “We must!”
“No we don’t.”
“How? What will the gods think?”
“You think the gods look down on us and judge us? You think they are happy with what we have become? I was born into the ash, my fate was sealed to this long tradition of keeping the world safe from the “darkness” that the Oracles keep babbling about. I was in that field you know? And I saw this young man. Fresh, almost childlike. While he wasn’t born into ash, he was born into blood. And he died in blood. No one will remember him. Can’t you say the same about the rest?”
“We fight because no one else will remember them! My lord, have you lost your mind?!”
“No, I have not. I have only abandoned what I was anchored to. Your faith is gone as well.”
Paladin Thomas shook his head, “We..we can try again…”
“Forgive me Paladin, but this burden must be ended. The cycle can be ended.”
“WHAT?!”
The paladin stood up and stormed straight in front of the lord,
“You cannot be serious! You would give up the whole world just because of a death?!”
“I have gained something that you don’t have. Thomas. Empathy. It is called Empathy. You and your brotherhood don’t seem to care about that. Forcing young men and women to fight in these wars and you are nothing but a deranged piece of FILTH!”
Without thinking, Thomas grabbed the sword and plunged it into the lord's chest, blood leaking out.
Blood was spat out of the lord's mouth, as he fell down on the floor. Thomas stumbled back and grabbed his head.
“Oh god...what have I done? I-my lord...I am so sorry…”
He kneeled down, prayed to the lord, already dead. Pointless.
He slowly looked to the left of him, the amber ring was glowing, and a sword made of embers was drawn from the ground, he looked at it, entranced.
“Perhaps...this land needs new lords…”
Ruined Thomas clenched the sword and he could sense a sudden dark power surge through him. He was not holy. The gods judged him. Ironic ending isn’t it? Poor Paladin Thomas, his own faith made him cause the land of Manton to be drenched in a plague of dread. The sparkling armour is now corrupted. There were new lords. But none could say if they were for the better or worse.
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