Bang. Boom. Boom.

War isn't how you see it in novels, with epic sword fights or protagonists somehow dodging every bullet. It's chaos. It's fear. It can end in a heartbeat.

One wrong move, and you're gone. Just like that. 

I grew up in a poor household. I’ve known war since I was a child. They called it the Endless War, raging for over fifty years between the two nations, Kaldara and Draegon. My father was an ordinary soldier, fighting for the honor of our country and providing for our family as best he could.

Before he left, he told me he had to do it—to provide for us and bring honor to his country. His words lingered in my mind like a haunting melody, a promise of strength amidst the turmoil. But when the letter arrived, everything changed.

When I was ten, my mother received a letter announcing our father’s passing, leaving me, my mother, and my sister, Nova, all alone. I had never seen my mother look so broken before.

She fell to the floor, crying her eyes out, and in that moment, everything changed. The warmth that once filled our home vanished, and I never saw my once-vibrant mother smile again.

My sister, Nova, was my light in that darkness. With her wild, curly hair and bright eyes that sparkled with mischief, she had a way of turning even the dullest days into adventures.

I still remember the day we decided to explore the forest behind our home, armed with nothing but a rusty old slingshot and our imaginations. We climbed trees and built forts out of sticks and leaves, pretending to be heroes defending our kingdom.

Her laughter, light and free, echoed through the woods, pushing away the shadows that crept in after our father’s death.

But as the war dragged on, that laughter became rare. The weight of our mother’s grief pressed down on us like a heavy blanket, stifling any spark of joy we tried to ignite. Our mother tried her best to provide for us, selling herbs in the marketplace of Valesca to keep us fed.

Her hands, stained with dirt from the earth she cultivated, were a testament to her hard work and heartache. But the income was meager, and I could see the worry etched on her face as the days passed and our pantry grew emptier.

There were nights when I lay awake, listening to the hollow growl of my stomach and the faint sounds of Nova’s quiet whimpers as she fought back tears. We often pooled our meager resources, splitting the last few scraps of bread or sharing a thin broth made from boiled weeds.

I tried to keep my spirits up, reminding her of our adventures in the woods, but it was getting harder to hold on to those memories when all I could see was the grim reality before us.

One evening, as I sat on the edge of my bed, I felt a surge of determination wash over me. I couldn’t just sit back and watch my family starve. So, I ventured into the forest to hunt. Armed with my slingshot, I spent countless hours tracking rabbits and squirrels.

Each time I returned home with a catch, the look of hope in my mother’s eyes made every cold night worth it. I felt a flicker of pride, believing I was stepping into my father’s shoes, providing for my family in his absence. But the hunting wasn’t enough. There were days when I came back empty-handed, and the disappointment in my mother’s eyes haunted me.

As I grew older, the war intensified. When I turned fourteen, I was thrust into the chaos myself. I had wanted to protect my family and honor my father’s legacy. But instead, I found myself caught in the machinery of death.

The village recruiters came looking for young men, promising glory and honor. I thought of Nova’s fragile smile, of my mother’s weary face, and how they depended on me. If I could fight for our country, perhaps it would bring peace and stability back home. I wanted to give them a better future.

“On my command, we move forward.”

The sergeant's voice snapped through the haze, cutting into my thoughts. My heart hammered in my chest, each beat echoing the urgency around me.

My hands were holding the rough grip of my rifle. I wasn’t a boy anymore. Not out here. 

“Go!”

The word came like a gunshot.

I launched myself forward, alongside the others. Mud kicked up beneath our boots as we sprinted across no man's land. Distant explosions rocked the ground, sending tremors up my spine.

The deafening crack of machine-gun fire buzzed around us like a swarm of angry hornets.

Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

“Let’s go, Caden!”

A familiar voice. It was Roan, always the loudest. Always charging ahead.

When I first arrived at the camp, he was the first friend I made. With his easy smile and boisterous laughter, Roan had a knack for making the harsh realities of our new lives seem less daunting.

He stood up for me against the older recruits, his unwavering determination leaving me in awe. “Hey, you’ll get your share,” he’d say, nudging me when rations were distributed.

He always made sure I got enough food, even when it meant he had to go without. “You can’t fight on an empty stomach,” he’d joke, but I could see the genuine care in his eyes. In those moments, it felt like, amidst the chaos of war, we were not alone.

Roan was my anchor, the one who brought laughter when hope felt lost. He shared stories of his family back home, painting vivid pictures of warm summer evenings and barbecues that made my heart ache with longing.

I often found solace in those tales, imagining a life beyond the battlefield, one filled with laughter and warmth.

“Stick with me, Caden. We’ll get through this together,” he promised, his voice a constant source of reassurance.

I ran as fast as my body would allow, my heart pounding in rhythm with the thunder of artillery in the distance. With each step, the cacophony of chaos enveloped me—gunfire erupted around us, drowning out the screams and shouts that filled the air.

My comrades fell around me like flies, their bodies lying forgotten in the mud, lives extinguished before their time. Each fallen friend was a reminder of the harsh reality.

“Don’t think about it Caden,” I muttered to myself, gritting my teeth against the rising tide of fear. I could feel the weight of dread pressing down on my chest, a suffocating reminder that I could be next.

Roan was just ahead, his figure a beacon of determination amid the chaos. I focused on his back, hoping he wouldn't be the next to fall. I couldn't bear the thought of losing him, the one who had been my lifeline through this hell.

As we neared the enemy trench, I jumped into the pit, covered in dirt and sweat, adrenaline coursing through my veins. The cold air bit at my skin, mixing with the stench of gunpowder and blood.

My comrades around me moved like a machine, the training drilled into our bones guiding our every action. But even in the midst of that, I felt the gnawing fear that this might be it—my final moment, my name forgotten like those of the soldiers who lay in the muck behind us.

That’s when I saw someone crouched in a corner, barely visible in the haze of gunfire and smoke. My heart raced as I gripped my gun tighter, the weight of it both reassuring and terrifying.

I charged forward, driven by instinct, but then I hesitated.

He wasn’t a soldier—at least, not like the others. He was a boy. Just like me.

His eyes locked onto mine, wide with the same fear I felt. I froze. In that split second,

I couldn’t shake off the feeling that he was just like me—a boy who got shoved into this hell to provide for his family. 

Suddenly, everything faded into silence. Like the only thing in the world was just me and him.

Time stretched, and all I could hear was my heart pounding in my ears. I wanted to scream at the absurdity of it all: two boys trapped in a nightmare, both victims the war that had stolen our childhoods away from us.

The boy raised his rifle, hands trembling. I felt paralyzed. I felt the weight of my own choices pressing down on me. Either I shoot him, or I die.

I could see my own reflection in his eyes: fear, confusion and most of all desperation.

The Desperation to survive.

Bang.

The boy slowly collapsed to the ground. Why are you looking at me with those eyes? The eyes of someone lost in the depths of despair. I wanted to look away, to escape the reality that is in front of me.

I couldn’t take my eyes away from him. His eyes looking at me as if asking questions, I couldn’t bear to answer. Why am I dying here? Who is going to take care of my family now?

“Stop looking at me!” I shouted, my voice a hoarse yell that cracked under the strain. The weight of the moment pressed down on my chest, and the rawness of my emotion threatened to choke me.

His expression, once filled with fear and desperation, now faded into a haunting emptiness, his eyes glossing over like the light had dimmed forever. I felt the ground shifting beneath me, as if the world itself were crumbling.

A wave of weakness washed over me. The gun slipped from my fingers, clattering to the ground.

“What are you doing, Caden?!” Roan’s voice cut through the fog, sharp and jarring. He stood beside me, smoke still curling from the barrel of his gun, eyes filled with disbelief and fury Not like the usually warm and compassionate guy I know.

“This is war! You can’t have compassion for the enemy. They are all monsters!”

Monsters? Was this boy truly a monster? No! he can’t be a monster. The emotions in his eyes were just like mine. scared.

I felt a sudden surge of anger course through me, igniting a flame of defiance against the crushing weight of Roan’s words.

“What do you know, he was just a kid!” I shouted, my voice trembling as I fought against the wave of guilt crashing over me.

Roan stepped closer, his expression hardening.

“You think that makes him innocent? You think he cared about your feelings? Out here, there’s no room for compassion!”

His words piercing me like daggers.

Roan shook his head, frustration etched deep into his features. “This isn’t a game, Caden!”

I glanced down at the boy, lifeless in the muck of the trench.

“He was not a monster. He was just lost, lost in this endless war.”

Roan’s gaze bore into me.

“He was about to shoot you for Christ’s sake. If I hadn’t saved you, then you would have been a corpse by now.”

The weight of his words pressed down on me, a suffocating shroud. I felt the lines between right and wrong blur.

I remained frozen, a statue among the chaos. I had realized that there wasn’t any honor out here like my father spoke about. Only blood and death.

I felt like I was walking into the abyss, and I couldn’t turn back.

Then, taking me back to reality, I heard Roan’s voice.

“Let’s go, Caden.”

Hello autor here (: please let me know if you like the story. this is my first story so please leave a comment to let me know your thoughts!