Atop a mountain of corpses, sat a man. Dried blood caked into the lines of his hands. The wind tugged at his torn black cape and threaded through his brown battle worn hair.
"I'm. so. tired."
The words fell on nothing but the ears of the fallen.
"Countless life's pissed away, and for what?" The breeze kissed his cheek, drying the red smeared across his face. "What exactly is even the point anymore?"
His grey eyes were dull and lifeless as they passed over the massacre before him. Stretched to the horizon were corpses and fire, the scent of eternal rest hung above them like a fog.
"Yet…"
His gaze fell to his hands "killing without purpose clings to me like a shadow, rotting my soul." His voice, cold and empty, was carried only by a whisper.
He walked through the battlefield with deliberate care, his eyes were fixed on the ground as he avoided the fallen soldiers that littered his path. His boots, once gleaming with silver plating, were drowned now in a sludge of blood and mud. Every step dragged free with a sickening squelch.
At his side, the hilt of his short sword caught the sun, its dragon engraved hilt tapping faintly against his armor with each step. He never lifted his head, only studied the last expressions one by one as he passed over them like a mist.
He didn't bother looking for survivors. No, he already knew such a possibility was hopeless. The silence that crawled up his spine was proof enough. The only figures who now walked this battlefield are him, and the Reaper, collecting his harvest of souls.
After what felt like an eternity, he finally stepped onto untouched green grass. The putrescence of death faded with each breath.
He raised his head to the sky. Clouds kissed the sunlight goodbye as rain began to fall, rinsing the blood from his face. He pulled off his black, legionary-styled helmet, its red, war torn plume that once stood tall to signify that of a general was now mere brittles. He tossed it to the ground without a second thought, closing his eyes so he could savor each raindrop against his skin.
Just as quickly as it came, it passed all the same. The sun reclaimed the sky, leaving crimson drops trailing down his armor and dripping onto blades of green, painting a perfect red circle around him.
"Everyone died here today, my body simply forgot to follow." He announced to the heavens.
One by one, he stripped away pieces of his armor and cast it aside. He drove his sword into the ground, placed his helmet upon the handle, and knelt before it with his head bowed. His words were softer than the clouds that had just wept upon him.
"Brothers… mother… forgive me. I have failed you. I led you into a war I knew we could not win. Made promises I could not keep. Yet you still gave your lives for me in the end. For that, is a sin I must always bear."
A single tear traced his cheek and fell, striking the ridge of his helmet as he stood.
"I can no longer be a part of such senseless, pointless death. So I, Edric Lucian Bloodthrone, general of the Ashen Dawn of house Bloodthrone, have also fallen upon this field today with the rest. From this moment on, I am simply… Lucian."
Without another glance, he turned and walked as his name was carried away by the souls of his comrades. With each step, the blood prints of his boots slowly faded, leaving only crushed grass in his wake.
"How long have I been walking? Two… no, maybe three days?" He asked himself as the sun beat down on his neck.
His words slurred as his feet dragged one after the other, in no hurry to keep pace. He wandered beside a faint dirt road until he found the ruts of carriage wheels carved into the soil. Hoping they might lead him to a city, he followed.
Cresting a hill, he saw a village below, bathed in the last glow of sunset. His parched body moved toward it of its own accord.
"Water…"
When he entered, the villagers froze mid-task, staring in dismay. He ignored them and staggered toward the well at the square's center. Like a corpse pulled forward by instinct, he lowered the bucket, drank deeply.
"Why's it gone so quiet?" He asked himself as he looked up.
Everyone had gathered. Everyone watched.
Even in his ragged state, an aura shimmered around him like a blazing flame the color of smoke. They didn't see a weary man, they saw a battlefield given human form. Mothers clutched their children. Men reached for weapons.
To even the untrained eye, his soul burned visible, suffocating, and his bloodied clothes and lifeless eyes only deepened the terror.
All species call it a Soulflame, the will that leaks off killers and kings alike. Only a few possessed one strong enough that could be seen by ordinary beings. Not only could they see it, they felt it: a pressure behind the eyes, a taste like metal on the tongue.
Whispers erupted around him.
"my father said if you see a flame like that… you run."
"Run from what? He's just standing there."
"Get out of our home, you monster!" someone shouted.
Others joined in, voices rising, urging him to leave and never return.
A stone struck his forehead. Blood spilled into his left eye, clouding his vision with crimson.
Lucian didn't react. He touched the wound with his finger, studied the smear of crimson between thumb and forefinger, then looked once more at their twisted, furious faces.
After all I've done… so be it.
Without a word, he turned and walked on, into the endless sea of green hills.
Days rose and fell. He walked on, hoping the next step might offer a purpose the last had failed to give.
Lucian found himself deep within a forest. Far from any road or sign of civilization. He had intended to find a cave or a quiet rise of earth to rest, but a sound stopped him.
Humming.
It was faint, fragile, almost lost beneath the rustle of leaves and the melody of the wind. Before he realized what he was doing, his feet carried him toward it.
Through the trees, he saw her.
A young woman knelt beside a berry bush, carefully placing ripe fruit into a woven basket. Sunlight filtered through the canopy above, catching in her hair as she hummed softly, a simple melody that drifted through the forest like birdsong.
Her humming did not belong to the forest, yet the forest seemed to listen.
As he drew closer, he noticed the fine details. The way her plush red lips curved softly with each note, how her pale, slender hands moved with careful grace. Her bright crimson eyes sparkled in the sunlight.
But above all else, what drew him in was her hair. Long and white as moonlight, it shimmered like silver beneath water. Neatly tucked behind one ear, it spilled down her back, swaying gently as she leaned forward.
Lucian drifted closer, half-dazed, as if he was being pulled towards her.
"Excuse me, miss," he said hoarsely. "What is your name?"
She paused, then shook her head faintly and returned to the bush, dismissing the sound as nothing.
He cleared his throat and spoke louder, his voice carrying like a command.
"Forgive me for interrupting! I only wish to know your name!"
Startled, she looked around for the source and locked eyes with him. She shot to her feet, pale as a ghost.
"A-A-Amira!" she stammered, slowly backing away.
"Amira," Lucian repeated, dazed, leaning against a tree. "Princess of the moon. Fitting and breathtaking. It suits you perfectly."
His unexpected reply seem to root her in place.
"I didn't mean to startle you," he spoke softly "and I hope this doesn't sound strange; but your hair is the most beautiful thing I've ever laid eyes upon."
Amira's breath caught. Her face flushed pink.
"I'll take my leave now, apologies if I scared you." Lucian turned to leave, but only managed a single step before collapsing to the ground, unconscious.
—————-
"Beautiful… my hair?" Amira whispered, staring at him on the ground in disbelief.
Lucian's Soulflame softly flickered unconsciously as he lay still. Instead of recoiling, Ami tilted her head, her crimson eyes catching its faint shimmer.
She crouched down next to him, and observed his Soulflame curiously.
"What an unusual color," she murmured, "and he's human?"
She rested her cheek on the palm of her hand and twirled her silver hair with the other. "I suppose I can't just leave you here." She said, her smile betraying the memory of his words.