When his eyes opened, he found the aftermath of a battle that littered the fields with battered and bloodied corpses. The only thing heard from the now-still war was the crackling of the fire and the wind that fueled it. The miasma of blood and dirt, mixed with the bowels of the fallen and afraid flowed through the air. As sad of a sight as it was to see such loss of life, it was not new to him. The wars of men were brutal, but most had a purpose; petty as they may be. Seizures of land, disputes about who should rule, and even the occasional lover’s quarrel were some of the causes. The last of which were his favorite, always filled with so much passion and drama. The gods though. He hated the wars between the gods. Nothing could compare to the cruelty and despair they could unleash upon the world. So many dreams were wasted away.

As he examined the fallen soldiers he recognized the sigils symbolizing the Kingdom of Vura, however, the other soldiers brandished a sigil that was foreign to him. He continued through the massive battlefield toward the castle gates deftly stepping around the dead when possible. Inside the castle held similar results to the battle that lay outside. There was no clear winner for either side of the war that plagued this kingdom.

As he continued further into Vuralty, the echo of his boots resounded throughout a silent market as he combed the streets searching. It had never been clear what he was supposed to be looking for, but he liked it better that way. There was something about the investigation that always thrilled him. However, this was vastly different than what he was used to. The entire place was a giant graveyard, and it was usually easier to make sense of everything when survivors were running around. On top of that, everything was smoldered by fire or covered in ashes.

The only thing that could cause such destruction as this was a god. In that he was confident. He always had to tread carefully around the other gods, though secretly he did love the politics of it. Men always praised the gods for their virtue, but truthfully they could be even more deviant than men. Though they were prevented from directly acting against each other due to an ancient pact, most just bypassed this by using a liaison of sorts and feigning ignorance.

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A faint pulling distracted him from his thoughts, he shivered with a cold sensation that enveloped his body which caused the hairs on his skin to rise. It tugged at his mind and led him away from the desolate market and onward toward the castle. He found more dead soldiers at the castle entrance. Another tug urged him through the entrance. He wound through hallways of fallen soldiers, broken furniture, and torn tapestries before entering a massive great hall.

The hall was still beautiful even considering the broken and burning furniture. Large stained-glass windows, though some were shattered, lined the sides of the walls illuminating enormous pillars that held up a ceiling masked in murals that displayed the history of the kingdom. The history would appear to end here, however.

Far off in the distance near the throne he finally saw life. He saw a soldier in black armor stained with the blood of those that surrounded him, his short hair, black as night. With one hand, the soldier held a long silver blade with a dark jewel embedded into the hilt. At the edge of the weapon stood a woman whose fierce expression defied the opposing soldier and those who held her in place. She was a beautiful sight to behold amongst all the death that surrounded her. Her shoulder-length white hair glowed with what almost felt like life itself.

Everything stopped in a heartbeat when the soldier rammed his sword through the woman’s chest. He could feel life itself fading away from his surroundings. The fires died with no wind to fuel them, causing the smoke to dissipate and vanish. All of the surrounding dead soldiers turned to ash, and even the soldier in black fell to his knees, the color draining from his skin, except for a tear that drifted to his cheek touching the edge of a smile. The smile of a man finally free.

“So this truly is Devastation's will.” The man said. Tears streaked from his eyes as everything slowly faded to nothingness.

A hand grasped at his boot which caused him to flinch backward.

“Help…. her.”

The voice came from a soldier who joined him in the void, somehow still alive; and able to see him. No one should be able to see him here, let alone touch him.

“Unless…” He knelt and gazed into the soldier’s eyes, though pleading, were a shade of blue and green that radiated peace and calmness. “Who are you?”