Chapter 0: The First Wall

Prologue: The First Wall

Blackness engulfs my vision. Thick blood rains down around me, pooling at my feet. The once fruitful drops of rain now become a constant storm, always belittling any footing I have to stand on. The mud slides across my once pearly silver armor, now marked with the earth’s paint. The crimson blood scattered across my armor consumes the moonlight. The darkened earth represent something more inside of me. It represents the blood enshrouding my soul, my humanity. The heels of my boots stamp into the ground, a low hymn resonating from its center as I feel my mana escape my body.

The thought of standing is a dream of its own, my back begging for a break, my knees buckling when I try to lock them, my arms failing when I try to lift the once-sharpened blade at my side. The corpse of my sword, shortened to nothing more than a broken piece of metal, is colored with the deep, unsavory red of those who crossed its blade. The shield at my side is dented inwards, making it of little use.

The cries of men and women became nothing but fuel for the torrent of my mind. The memories of my oath, the memories of the soldiers' screams, the memories of blood are a reminder of the throbbing pain in my head. My feet rage with regret as I listen over and over to a single word within my mind, fight. Nothing else, no words of encouragement, no words of sadness, no words of vengeance, just a word that embodies my mission, that commands me to keep going. The moon shines its face through the crumbling roof into my eyes, its smile beckoning me to fight within its gaze.

Regardless of the toll on my body, I kneel on my beaten knee, my sword and shield lie on each side, as I pray to my King, “Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof but only say the word and my soul shall be healed.” The lunar warmth envelops me as I stand, my body refusing to give up. The moon crowns my rise. The light follows my knees as they lock against all odds. The weapons resting in the pool of dirtied blood are pulled between my fingers as I arm myself once more. My breath is shaking, but my conviction is firm. Those savages will not breach these walls as long as my boots burn my print into the earth I stand on.