She staggered as though the ground was moving beneath her feet, her stomach lurching and she fell to her knees and crawled as best she could. The ground was hard exposed rock, whipped bare by the vicious wind that was blowing her sideways. She realised she was climbing up a slope, heading for a rise. A flurry of snow blinded her as she dragged herself to the apex of the incline and she coughed, icy air filling her lungs.
She had to wait until the wind eased off, finally able to see what lay ahead.
It was a battlefield…hundreds of monsters were strewn across the unyielding landscape and filling in any space where they were not, were human soldiers bearing Astaril livery. Spears, swords, shields…all were broken and the humans, even more so. Bodies were slashed with claws or bore terrible bite marks. There was so much blood, both red and dark green, mingling together, soaking into the land. Beyond the battlefield was the wall that divided the north from the south. And even further beyond was the mount of Maul, smoking black and ominous.
“What…is this?” She whispered stepping back and tripped over someone behind her. She looked down and to her horror, she saw the face of Verne, gashed and bloodied, his bow broken and his arrows gone. Next to him was an unknown man, with a handsome face even in death yet his torso had been run through with multiple thick, black arrows, a shattered shield fallen to the side that had not been able to protect him. Blood poured from a wound in his head to congeal and mat his blonde curls together. She whimpered and turned away only to see Caste’s body fallen against a cart, his neck snapped and his eyes open yet lifeless. A man with dark skin, his back embedded with an axe of spine splitting proportions lay at Caste’s feet.
Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.
She began to sob.
“No…this cannot be!” She began to panic, panic overwhelming her. “Judd! Judd! Where are you?!”
A cry filled her ears and she spun around to face the battlefield where a single figure stood. He was a blur as the wind began to blow, scattering dust into her eyes but she saw him lift a sword into the air…and suddenly the world went silent…
…as the world seem to explode into a fiery red rage.
Her eyes filled with the sight of an angry red storm coming towards her so fast there was no chance of escaping it.
She spun around, a wall of heat striking her back and flinging her forward…
…into a cool marble hall with stained glass windows and fine, filigree and gold plated furniture. There were vases full of brilliant blooms and suits of armour and tapestries hanging from the walls. She stumbled to a halt, the blur around her solidifying into a congregation of mournful faces. No one seemed to see her. They were all preoccupied with an ornate coffin which rested on the altar at the far end of the room. She walked towards it, shivering.
Behind the coffin were four figures and as she approached, she saw that Caste and Verne, as well as the two men she did not recognise, stood solemnly like a guard of honour for the coffin’s resident.
Trembling she approached the casket of death, a beautifully detailed masterpiece, one reserved for kings and princes with a polished glass lid with a gold seal of royal approval. A noble, kind face lay within the coffin, a knight at rest. She wept, putting her fingers out to touch the unyielding, cold glass.
“Judd,” she whispered, “you cannot be dead. You cannot be so!”
Her words could not reach him and her tears struck the glass, trickling away. A reflection moved into her line of sight and she looked up to see her own face gazing back at her, dressed in magenta and purple, her eyes filled with sorrow and her mouth turned down.
“What is this?” She begged. “A vision? A premonition? A curse? What?!”
Her reflection’s eyes filled with dark green and she breathed out a cloud of darkness. She recoiled, cowering from the haze of poison…