THE MARCH OF DEATH.

Our non-relationship was interrupted, as in every story worth telling, there was an inconvenience, the king of the island of the broken swords had lost his only descendant even before he was born, when he found out he himself cut off the head of his life partner, for failing him, it was at that moment that came to his mind the terrible idea of obtaining his heir to the throne with the help of the best warrior of all time, he announced his wedding with ROSA without prior notice, one morning while she was buying provisions in the village market half way through her journey, she was approached by a messenger, a high ranking mantis commander was giving her a scroll that read:

"ROSA, you will be the lucky one to provide me with an heir to the throne, our children will enjoy absolute wealth and power, the lineage we will have will be able to rule over all insectopia, our wedding will be on the next moon, put aside that nonsense of ending the Lord Demon and return home, there will be no second invitation."
Atte.- King Magnus Golden-Sword

Just as she finished reading the scroll she was surrounded by two dozen mantis soldiers in armor, they would escort her by force to the kingdom of the broken swords, that was the plan from the beginning, to take her at any cost, ROSA did not fight, she did not want to kill pawns who only followed orders, she thought of their families waiting for them to return, their children, their parents and all the people who would wonder why he did not return from their mission if it was only to escort a bride to her wedding, she just accompanied them.

Days went by, ROSA did not respond to any of the questions or conversations they tried to initiate, she just walked without stopping, day or night, she did not stop, the young warriors could not keep up, they wanted to sleep, they wanted to eat, they wanted to rest because their legs were already bleeding, but she did not stop, the journey that had lasted years, now she walked back without resting, little by little the soldiers were staying on the road, the first one fell under the scorching desert sun, in the first cold night with freezing temperatures, four more died, the sandstorms of that route claimed the lives of five others, after ten days without stopping, the suffocating humid heat of the jungle with temperatures of 50 degrees sickened and killed four young soldiers, the heroic journey with moments of peace with his invisible love had now become a death march.

Upon reaching the volcanic zone of insectopia, a false step meant falling into magma and so it was, the last of the line three strong soldiers who guarded the rear of the group made a false step due to their fatigue falling straight to be disintegrated, their screams alerted the rest of the dwindling group who upon turning only managed to see the smoke, their bodies created by falling into the lava.

At last they were close, the swampy bogs were no problem for a well trained mantis soldier, but in those deplorable conditions, the toxic fumes took control of their minds, making three of them hallucinate believing that the rest of the group had been transformed into demons marching towards their country with the intention of wiping out their families, they did what they were trained to do, they attacked with perfect timing, using stealth tactics from the rear as silent assassins, as the training dictated that you should attack a group larger than your own, and so, as they tried to defend themselves from the attack six soldiers rest in peace in the dark swamps.

The death march continued towards the island of the broken swords, the long sea voyage remained to be made, however the crew no longer existed, only the commander and ROSA remained, the ship was so large that for her it was a waste of time to board it, she approached a palm tree and with a swift movement of her swords cut it and shaped it into a minimalist individual raft, She took out her two swords and began to execute air cutting techniques behind her, managing to advance at great speed, only the commander who watched her leave from the boat and I witnessed this unexpected method of transportation.

Nothing could stop her, she crossed the ocean with all the loneliness that the wide sea surrounding the island can offer, for a long time there was nothing but blue, just blue, a flat and coarse blue, the sky and water only varied a tone, no clouds, no foam, just blue, just her, just her destiny that she faced head on.

At last he crossed the thick fog that surrounded the island, and managed to jump over the sharp sword-shaped rocks that give it its name, until he reached the beaches of his country, when he got off his improvised ship and touched the sand again, he felt his body charged with energy, the gleam in his eyes was burning, finally the death march that had cost 23 lives was coming to an end.