Doors of Inferno
I have seen a hundred battles, but this was the Armageddon itself. Our allies fell like whitings to the whales. There were fathers, husbands and young lads under those iron helmets and armours. But none of them shook their heads to break the gates of hell and march into the jaws of death. Sabres and scimitars painted the earth poppy red and a hail of thousand arrows flew through the air like meteor showers.
Young boys fell like animals raised for slaughter. Longevous soldiers disappeared to be a bard’s tale. The winds kept blowing in a constant rhythm as if singing a celestial lullaby for those immortal corpses.
After all, the battlegrounds resembled nothing but a cemetery for the unburied. What are we doing here? An army of dizzards fighting for a daffy kingdom? Why wouldn’t all war end at once? Before I could find an answer for those questions, I felt a dagger slide through my chest. And all I could remember seeing were the doors of inferno.