The morning sun rose in silence, its golden rays casting long shadows over the ruins of the village. What had once been homes filled with laughter and life was now nothing but ashes and bloodstained earth. The air smelled of death, thick and suffocating, but Zaria and her warriors stood strong, their faces hardened by sorrow.
They had gathered the bodies—men, women, children—laying them side by side in a mass grave at the heart of the village. It was not the burial they deserved, but it was the only honor they could offer.
As the last body was placed in the ground, Zaria stepped forward. Her hands trembled as she clutched a handful of soil, feeling the weight of her ancestors watching. Her voice, though steady, carried the grief of a thousand souls.
"We return you to the earth," she whispered. "To the land that bore you, the wind that carried you, the rivers that sang your names. Rest now, for your fight is over."
She let the soil slip through her fingers, and the warriors behind her did the same, one by one, murmuring quiet prayers.
Then, as the flames were lit to cleanse the rest of the village, they began to sing.
The Song of the Fallen (Land's Song for the Dead)
"Oh, land of our fathers, cradle of our birth,
Take them home, return them to the earth.
May the winds guide them, may the rivers weep,
May the mountains whisper as they sleep."
The fire spread, devouring what remained. Homes, memories, history—turned to smoke rising into the heavens.
"Oh, spirits watching, hear our cries,
Their blood is spilled, yet their name won't die.
Let their souls ride the wings of the sky,
Let their voices echo where eagles fly."
Some warriors wept silently, others stood unshaken, their hands clutched over their hearts. Zaria felt the loss settle in her bones, but she did not let herself break.
"By flame and dust, by sword and shield,
Their honor stands, their fate is sealed.
We light the fire, we bow our head,
We do not mourn, for they are not dead."
The last line rang through the air, powerful and unwavering.
The flames roared higher, and with it, their vow was sealed.
When the fire finally died, nothing remained of the village but blackened earth and the scent of smoke.
Zaria turned to her warriors. "We return to Zambura."
No one spoke as they mounted their horses. There was nothing left to say.
But as they rode away, leaving the village behind, Zaria knew one thing.
This was not the end.
This was only the beginning.
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