Rising up from the ocean water it was freezing and to top it off the cold winds hit me hard. Wiping the water from my eyes I saw all the ships had been destroyed. My ears were covered in water so it made it hard to listen but through the muffled sounds, I heard screams going on which seemed to be from my fellow soldiers finishing up the enemies that had survived the clash of the ships.

Swimming toward the harbor I saw many dead and maybe unconscious bodies that had been floating in the water. Many of these seemed to be coming out of the ships that had now been slowly going more and more back into the ocean.

Much debris was on land and ocean, I was most afraid of the debris on land because that could have taken out many of my comrades, and how right I was.

Making it to the harbor, it was smokey and covered with debris. I walked by many enemy soldiers that were hit by the debris and seemed to have died from it, others were punctured by it.

And not just enemy soldiers but also my brothers in arms.

Even if I didn't know their names, just the sight of seeing them dead here hurt me. I killed them. I killed them all, some had children to return to, and others had mothers and fathers to return to, But I have killed them and kept them from returning to their loved ones. I hope they can forgive me for what I have done here. But it had to be done, this saved many of us and citizens.

Looking at one particular man he had a large wooden piece lodged in his chest. I recognized him from when we would sleep and eat in the same barracks back in Castle Len, the castle where Jim showed up after having not seen him for a while.

Looking down at his body and placing a hand on the man's cheek, he was cold and soulless. His eyes open but nothing behind them. He would speak about his wife to me and the beautiful daughter she birthed. And now I have taken him away from them. Wiping the tears building up in my eyes and closing his lifeless eyes.

I pulled the large wood piece out of his chest and laid the man back down on a patch of dirt.

Going around the harbor the fog mixed with smoke was building up and I tried my best to make out my fellow brother-in-arms that I had killed in this attack and take them to the body of the man I pulled the wood piece out. The smoke was killing me, but I owed it to them to do this last final act.

While finding bodies that I was confident were from my fellow comrades, I also found fingers, eyes, legs, arms, and other maimed body parts. I felt only right to pick these maimed parts up as well and place them with the others. Whether they were enemies, some were bound to be from my comrades.

Returning to the pile, I did the best I could to find my comrades. Now, standing on the side of this dirt patch pile of soulless men. Placing my bloody-soaked hand on my chest not even once thinking of cleaning them and looking at the collection of bodies and parts I have gathered here on this floor.

I whispered gently

“In memory of you all and those who have fallen long before this, I speak this ode to you, I give you all this small offering”

I slice my hand open, letting blood spill onto the batch of bodies. Then lighting the bodies on fire.

Taking a knee next to the slowly building funeral pyre.

My voice came out rawer once I spoke again.

“Whatever I do will not bring any of you back. I'm sorry for what I have done truly I am. May I never rest easy for as long as I live, and may I let you all rest here peacefully.”

I stood up from the knee I took. Moving my sliced hand to hover just above the fire, feeling the hot sensation against it. I continued moving my hand more and more into the flames and now it was fully engulfed, and the pain unbearable.

“May I never forget any of you,” I whisper as my final words to the resting comrades of mine.

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My hand burned up in the flames and I thought by doing this it would be a token of apology to them all.

A hand for retribution.

The funeral pyre was burning bright, all bodies were now black charcoal none had any facial features at all, and they seemed to curl up as if you were baking something. I saw eyeballs melt off and hair burn off, Toasted limbs were next as they just easily fell off. And the smell, Lord the smell of burning flesh that has been overcooked to the brim. I fear I will never forget this smell.

All the while my hand was still burning in it all.

Staring into the flames above that have grown. It was just dancing around, not caring about what was going on below it. It was free and allowed to go wherever it pleased. But were my eyes playing tricks with me? Am I okay? Am I seeing right…right now?

A face was dancing along the flames as well.

No, now it was a couple of faces dancing along the flames, what the fuck is going on. They seemed to mix into each other and then pop out of one another. But I recognize one of the faces.

That man, that's the man I first found, with the wood lodged into his chest.

Then it hit me, all these faces are the people I picked up and brought here to lay to rest in the funeral pyre.

As if hearing my thoughts the face of the man looked down toward me and soon the rest of the faces all in union turned down to look down at me.

Is this a god? What the fuck is going on right now. I have to be drugged out right? But yet, it's all there. I see these beings' faces in the flames in front of me. They are the fire; the faces are fire with no eyes-only fire to replace.

I've almost forgotten something else, my hand.

It no longer burned. I can't feel my hand in the flames and even worse I cannot pull it out. Trying my hardest to yank it out but I couldn't, and it's no longer in view. The flames have gotten so strong I can't see anything in it.

Yanking and yanking pulling even falling to one knee again to try and pull it out, but it just won't. Am I going to die here? I feel sweat piling in my face, and I'm really scared here.

“Don't be”

I hear dozens of voices all at the same time. The voices were soft and calming and immediately I knew where it came from. I look back up and see all the faces still staring at me but all holding a soft smile.

This calmed me down for some reason and I stopped pulling my hand from the flames and sat there looking at the faces waiting for them to continue.

“We thank you, Alexander, for giving us such a sending-off and even offering your hand as an apology, truly noble of you. All of us here have no clue as to why we are flames but nonetheless, we believe you should be given something from us all.”

My hand in the flames suddenly gained life again as I felt it grab something.

“Consider it a gift Alexander, you have been deemed worthy of something greater. And do not eat yourself out from what you have done here, this sending-off you gave us has truly given us a smile and for that we thank you. Until your day comes Alexander, we shall meet again.”

As they all stopped talking the faces all faded away, not once any of them looked away from me as they disintegrated.

Tears ran down my face from the moment they started talking and I couldn't control them at all.

Wiping my face clean with my one free hand, I noticed my other hand was now free from the flames. Slowly I pulled my hand out and I had to be careful as I was holding something. Slowly it came out and I made out the shape of the thing I was holding.

It was a sword, and it was beautiful.

I was holding the hilt of the sword. The hilt had been a dark crimson color, there was also a pattern that seemed to be flames, and it was moving very slowly one wouldn't notice it unless they looked closely. The flames ate each other out as they clashed. In the guard of the sword was…well a stone eye. It was a perfect polish gem with it too being crimson but a bit lighter. The eye stone is set in a silver bezel that holds it. The red eye seemed dead and was as still as the stone itself. With the funeral pyre still burning bright the stone seemed to have a faint red glow.

The blade itself was dark, almost obsidian-like metal that absorbs light rather than reflecting it. It was long and had a slight curve with razor-sharp edges. Along the blade in a dark red blood-like color which stood out due to the blade's black color, was runes. The runes were written in a language I had no idea what it was or if it even still existed.

Swinging the sword felt amazing and was not heavy. Noticing something below the handle of the sword caught me by surprise for the reason I didn’t notice it sooner. The sword had a pommel, it was a Raven’s head with a long beak. It was a silver color and the eyes of the Raven… were bright red. The eyes seemed to follow me as I moved it around, it left a weird feeling in me as if it were watching my every move.

But why do I deserve this sword? Is this all magic? Everything that has happened here had to be magic, how was this possible? If not magic, could it have been some sort of God? Whether it was Magic, gods, or maybe fate itself, I have been blessed by my brethren. They truly honor me with this gift.

It will need a name in the end.

Pointing the sword into the flames of the pyre, crack-like lines formed in the dark black obsidian-like metal blade, under the lines it glowed.

I have the perfect name.

Rebirth.