Prologue
They came to this world like rain from the heavens. With the streaks of flames and deafening explosions to herald their arrival, they descended to the land with the anthem of war. Warriors from a different world, they were creatures armed with weapons of conquer and ruin. In their wake, they bestowed upon the land their song of desolation and carnage. They were unknown to the words of peace and deny the concern of those whom they deemed as inferior. They wrought upon this world nothing but the deranged parade of screaming souls that were lost to the merry cheers of the blazing cities.
It was a war that men were never prepared to fight but they struggled. In the face of the beasts and a wall behind their backs, they stood brave and tall, ever valiant against the fate of a resistance doomed to fail. Before the final flicker of hope was extinguished, heroes took the waltz of the maddened and stole their fate right at the fangs of the feared.
Small crystals no bigger than a pearl, it was the core of the invaders technology and with it in their hands, humanity found their chance to finally fight back. Like a parasite, it latches on a person’s life and overwrites what makes him a human. From the basic senses, to reflex, and to instincts, everything that limited his capability shall be shattered like a false reality.
But though it allowed the advance to be halted, to call it salvation is still a bad lie to speak; it is a weapon only a few can wield and there is no other to spare. The future continues to tether in the brink but to whatever cruel jest awaits, they will face it united and unwavering.
Chapter 1
Down at the port was an event of a great celebration. Thousands of high spirited men and women crowded the place in a sea of festivity. Cheers of joy and the music of merry making resounded loud and through—a worthy welcome for the fleet of ships that arrived one by one.
Blacked in smoke, puckered with explosive marks, and scarred with a giant slash that exposed its inner corridors, every boat carried the mark of a battle that they won after an entire month of intense combat in the land, sea, and sky. All radio waves were focused on the current engagement and how humanity slowly made their advance, taking back what they lost, one step at a time. The great-war remains unpredictable but this victory secured one of their most vital trading routes that eased the suffering of many and greatly increased their efficiency. So desperate were the people for such a victory that they were unable to contain their feelings and they began to celebrate, even if it was perceived as too early.
Amongst the soldiers who are waving back to their people stood a woman of a dignified name. Though she was draped in the same attire as any soldier, she was revered by everyone as the hero who led their resistance into the valiant force that they are now. Her presence alone speaks of a spirit that will never falter and a victory that shall not be denied.
So long as she stands on guard, fear is a word that shall never be known.
Myra
Driving my car through the winter road, the sound of my engine roared loud and clear, disturbing the peaceful ambiance of the greenery. Secluded from the world, the valley was untarnished by the scars of war; no roads peppered by heavy ordnance, no streaks of jet trails in the sky, no smoke from armories, not even a single soldier on patrol can be found. Nothing exists here but the carpet of snow and the occasional animals peeking out of the shrubs—that, and the large building that stood at the top of the mountain.
“St Joan of Arc’s Sanatorium”
The sign on its metal gate was a bit rusted and the paint was peeling off but the name was still visible. It was a name that holds a dear meaning for us who have been in and out of the reaper’s grasp.
After identifying myself to the guards on duty, they immediately realized my rank and fixed their image before giving me a dignified salute. The moment I opened the door, familiar faces immediately turned to face me. Faces that brightened up in smiles as they all alerted everyone about my arrival with such cheerful voices.
“She’s here. She’s here,” they called out to the rest of the flock, “Our Commander is back!”
With those words, the silence of the place was rocked by their joyous greetings as I made my way inside to meet the people whom I fought with and fought for. With limbs missing, bodies covered in bandages, and faces unrecognizably burned and stitched, they stood by the side of the hallway as they all gave me a frail but joyous salute. One by one, I visited them all on their beds, comforting each one with the authority that I held. I was aware of what my presence could do to change the atmosphere. And right now, it is the most sought out feeling in this place where heroes await the day of their rest.
They were the brave warriors who once proudly carried our flag and gambled their lives to protect the future that we all believe in. And as the one who commanded the orders, I watched them all grow from inexperienced recruits who faced the terror in front of their eyes, into veterans who waltz with the songs of death, and now, into weary souls who can no longer walk on their own. Kept standing by crutches of wood and confined on their rusty beds, their body is now owned by the pills and medicine that they take to keep them alive and sane. For one who gave up everything, this treatment is anything but just. One could not ignore their spirits that were worn down by the humiliation of being a burden for the ones they swore to defend.
In one room, I was instantly assaulted by the open arms of a girl just around teenage years but she had already lost her leg and her face was disfigured by stitch marks that extended from her missing left eye and up to her scalp. I remember it well when an armored car exploded and an armor shard dislodged itself on her skull. She was unable to scream but we managed to save her in time.
“Hey, I missed you too,” I greeted her as she tightened her embrace on me. Her face burrowed in my chest and slowly, I felt it getting wet from her tears.
“Thank you, commander,” she cried softly, “Thank you for taking our home back.”
Our recent success was a key victory for it opened new routes that we can use for stronger military defenses and safer and quicker trading roads but I never knew it was that valuable to her. I stroked her hair and comforted her until she let go.
“Don’t take me lightly. We are going to take back our lands one bullet at a time.”
After saying it, she finally let go. Her eyes were swollen red but she was smiling as brightly as one can be. With a sniff, she turned back to her bed for a moment and rummaged around the drawer until she found a dog tag with a name that sent shivers down my spine. My smile momentarily faded as I came to realize what it meant.
“I’m sorry if you have to learn it this way,” the girl told me, sensing my mood, “My sister does not really want you to feel worried while you were out there fighting so she said that we are going to wait for your return.”
“I see…” I held the tag tightly as I tried to force a smile.
“Do not worry about us, commander,” She was smiling as she said those words, “We may not be on the frontlines anymore but our duty remains the same.”
She lifted her hand and caressed her neck. Her scarred fingers traced the jewels that were implanted on her neck.
“Once we have found someone with the right compatibility, we are going back to the frontlines, reborn anew.”
Reborn
The word struck a cold bolt on my heart. For a girl so young speaking of such terrible words with a smile is a disheartening sight. But if she refuses to cry, then I have no right to mourn.
Returning her smile, I patted her on the head and messed up her hair. “Have fun in the dirt, private. I’ll be joining you all soon.”
I do not know if I succeeded in playing the act but when I closed the door behind me, I felt my body growing cold from fear and despair. Feeling my fingers losing its warmth, I lifted them up to my neck and touch the same gems that were embedded into my neck. This was the technology that we stole from the invaders. Once implanted in a major artery, it would drastically cause changes in the chemistry of the blood and in turn would modify our DNA to exceed the limits that a normal human should never be able to break.
Every gem is different from another and responds only to a few select individuals. Some more power powerful than others. Once attached, it makes its host completely dependent on it; if removed, even for a split second, it would cause all internal functions to fail and collapse.
“Reborn,” I spoke the cursed word softly as I kept my fingers on the gem on my neck. There is no such thing as a spare gem; every single one is valuable and vital for the war effort. Those who have lost their abilities to fight have no other choice but to find peace in this sanatorium as they await the day that a match for their gems was found. Reborn was the code word that we implemented in order to remind everyone that we are not going to die in vain. That we have served our purpose in life and we are just going to hand over the torch.
I grit my teeth as I was filled with loathing for such a bitter end that awaits us. I know the story of every soldier who served under me. And that girl who just said she was ready to die, she was not even of marrying age. She and her sister enlisted in the military underage via false documents. Documents that I accepted as I sent them to the frontlines almost unarmed as an attempt to scare them off but they were unfazed. Perhaps they were aiming to avenge the home that they lost, or just madly wishing for death, but the fire in their eyes never faltered and when we finally found out that they were compatible, they took the choice to fight even if they knew that they will never survive.
It’s a bitter tragedy that I’ve seen over and over again but no matter how logical the decision was, the pain of seeing them go still remains as painful as it has always been.
When I heard footsteps walking close, I was immediately taken away from my reverie to face the one coming near.
“Oh, Commander, I’m surprised to see you here.”
It was a girl with brown hair and green eyes. She was one of the nurses who once served in the frontlines.
“I thought that there would be a debriefing at HQ today. What brings you here?”
“Yeah, this is just a sudden visit. I’ll leave as soon as possible,” I replied then I walked away. But after just the first step, she grabbed my hand at once.
“Please don’t go there!” she cried out, her voice laced with emotion.
Her grip was so tight it almost felt painful but not as bad as her current situation.
“Please, commander,” she said, trying to regain her composure, “There is nothing that awaits you there. She cannot be saved anymore and it is better if you just leave her alone.”
“She’s right,” a voice chirped out from the corner.
It was a girl with red hair and who wore a navy uniform. She seemed to be one of respected authority except for the fact that the entirety of her left arm was torn out and replaced by nothing but bandages.
Putting pressure into the voice of the nurse, she further added, “Commander, this place is where we go to die. If you meet that girl again, you are going to carry our grief with you.”
“Please, commander,” she repeated, “We do not want to see you get hurt.”
For their concern I simply gave them a wry smile before nudging the nurse to let go and proceeded to my original goal. Out from the corner of my eye, I saw the nurse collapsing into the bosom of the other girl, crying badly as she saw me off. The navy girl comforted her while she tried to make sense of what I am doing to myself.
As my footsteps bounced through the walls of the corridor, my thoughts drifted and took me back to the horrors of the battlefield. I was lost into the illusory world of fire and brimstone as I remembered that day when I last fought without fear. In my next step, my vision and senses gave in and dissolved into the illusion weaved from memory.
…
Under the soft veil of blackened snow and burning snowfields, the theater of war was held. With an animalistic bloodlust in their eyes, the invaders tore through the dense foliage, leaving a crackle of flames on every step they took. A step that couldn’t go further as soldiers held their ground. Armed in sheets of metal and gunpowder, they held off the advance beneath the trenches and behind minefields. Desperately clinging for what little hope they had, they defied the freezing temperature as they fought the devils at their door.
Spread thin and far between, defeat was imminent and the loss of morale was evident. In screams of pain, they witnessed as how their allies were taken down one by one in the most gruesome deaths. Their fate had long been locked and the final rays of hope they had were all for their commanders who fought with them on the front lines. With a machine-gun in hand, Myra rushed through the cracks in their formation, mending the threats by the language of her bullets. By her side was another girl, another user of the gem and was the only one who could match her vigor.
Ismene was the name she was called, a rival and an ally that fits Myra’s legendary name. Armed with a rifle, she fought by Myra’s side, driving their foes away and reigniting what little courage their soldiers had left. Rushing through one trench after another, they scattered the remains of their targets and spilled their red on the fiery snow. Coated richly with the frozen blood of foes and friends alike, the image of their ferocious upheaval in the winterscape was a sight that was both frightening as it was beautiful.
Known for so many battles, they have upturned the tides for as long as they can remember but the story of those days faded into a dream as they slowly realize the futility of their resistance. Weary and lost against an opponent that was both hungry and unforgiving, they knew that it wouldn’t be long until everything ceases. It was a price that they had long been ready to pay in full but this was a battle that they couldn’t afford to lose.
Rushing in to their signaler’s tent, Myra immediately demanded answers from their radio operators.
“What is going on?” she blasted, slamming her bloodied hand onto the table, “Air support should have arrived hours ago!”
“W-we know, commander,” The signaler responded, “But they were intercepted and they are currently in a dogfight. HQ said that they want us to hold off for a while longer and prepare for a retreat.”
“RETREAT?!” Myra exploded as she heard the word, “Do they not realize what would happen if we lose our ground here? We are going to lose our supply route. Food, weapons, medicine, they are all going to be insufficient and God knows how many cities shall be left undefended.”
Before the signaler could even respond, another soldier entered their tent. Skin paler than the snow, eyes wide with fright, and lips quivering in terror, she delivered the news that rattled everyone.
“T-t-they have penetrated Hill 314 and they are coming with a war party.”
Then, a deafening silence filled the room before the signaler broke down in tears.
“It’s over!” he wailed loudly as he began tearing out.
Myra hung her head and stared at the ceiling with listless eyes.
“It’s the final blow, huh?” she spoke quietly, resigning herself to their bitter defeat.
As the dreadful news crept in, they shared a moment of still silence; a final reprieve before their upcoming deaths. But their mourning was interrupted when a voice rang out.
“I will intercept them,” said a soft but dignified voice.
When their heads turned, they saw that it was Ismene. The words she just left were beyond ridiculous but she kept her eye contact locked. They knew that she was never the one with a humor to discuss but this situation made her seem like a bad joke.
“What are you saying?” Myra asked, concerned.
“I can halt their advance. Hill 314 is a strategic ground but if they want to move from there to here, they would need to pass through a cliff side rich in cover. If I go now, I can prepare a deathtrap.”
As she said those words, she reloaded her rifle and grabbed as much ammunition and explosives as her pockets can carry.
“That is suicide!” the signaler exclaimed.
But his words fell to deaf ears as Ismene grabbed a spare duffel bag and loaded it with even more ammunition and explosives. Had it not been for the fact that she was a gem user, the weight of the armaments that she carried would have been too heavy.
“Indeed it is,” Myra seconded, “Even if you managed to reach there on time, you would still not be enough to stop them. I’m not taking any chances; we cannot spare anymore manpower. I’ll re-coordinate our defenses and concentrate our forces on high ground where we can wait for air support and reinforcements. We will let a few enemy pass through but reinforcements and air support should take them down before they could deal real damage.”
“I’m afraid that is not possible,” Ismene said in reply, a small smile on her lips. Then, she turned to face them in full. Her face was laced with no other emotion than joy; an emotion that was contrasted by the weapons she carried and the blood that smeared her armor. Just seeing her in such a form changed the temperature inside the tent.
“You said it yourself: We cannot afford to lose this ground, that many people are relying on us, that we are back in a corner…” she threw Myra’s words back, “…but it is fine…”
Then, she turned her back and took a step forward.
“…I shall drive them all away.”
Realizing the meaning behind those words, Myra’s heart skipped a beat and she found her legs on a dire rush to stop Ismene. But she was instead greeted by a sudden gust of wind that blew their tent apart and scattered the powdery snow away. Ismene disappeared along with the wind, leaving not a single footstep that could mark her path.
Walking through the hallway, I soon came upon a hallway window. The light was filtered by the frost on the glass but it showed enough of the outside to fill me with nostalgia. Little has changed from this place but the people and the memories that I brought continued to write their tale on the walls, making the walk even longer than it used to be. With a smile, I continued my walk.
…
Just as how she was forced to agree, Myra kept watch of their defenses as they await the enemy’s main force. As cold as the winter was, their fear kept their grip on their guns tight and their entrenchment deep. Every second was counted in fright, until seconds turned into minutes, minutes to hours, and hours into days but death never came. There were skirmishes and engagements but none of which are coordinated, let alone threatening. It was more as if they were dissolving with time, fleeing even.
The air support continued to be inaccessible and the need for answers was affecting everyone’s morale. By the time the second sunrise arrived, Myra herself led a small group of scouts to find out what happened only to behold the sight that befell upon their eyes.
From the mound and trees that used to be covered by the snow, what lies there now is the malformed landscape that was marred to disfigurement by bombardment and conflagration. Sturdy winter oaks were brought down to the ground in fiery pieces, arid black smog arose to the sky as the flammable chemical continued to burn their broken machines to cinders.
Amongst this razed land were the grisly remains of the ones who were unfortunate enough to be a part of the madness. Mangled and torn, their pieces lay scattered in bloody remains but the fright they felt made a permanent mark on their eyes. Blood spilled frozen and cake thick on their skin, their final moments revealed the horrors as they reached for their missing limbs and desperately tried to patch up their gushing wounds. Every corpse, big and small, suffered almost the same fate; vital limbs were punctured on the precise veins and were left to bleed their life away.
Enemies of all ranks were all treated equal as they tried to run away in their broken limbs only to fall as their open veins drain them dry. Fighters who refused to run away could be traced as the corpses who held their guns on the ground before they were charred to their bones. Armored vehicles that boasted immunity from mankind’s ammunition found their layers of armor completely useless as they were penetrated through by a force that carved through their plates, and down to the ground from which they stood.
It was the craftsmanship built with a sickening pandemonium that stretched out as far as the eye can see. But as twisted the tale was, they knew that their battle had just ended with the angel of death siding their favor; a feeling that they failed to appreciate as they tried in vain to find the one who made such a sacrifice.
Through the forest of carrion and broken gears, Myra’s team plowed through each body and metal sheet that was buried underneath the snow, desperate to find even just a single clue. And when they did…
…
The hallway finally ended with the appearance of a large door that had the tag “Ismene”. Without knocking, I opened it and was welcomed by the loving scent of old books and tea. The curtains ruffled gently as the cold breeze entered through the open windows, filling the room with warm light as the maiden in the room slumbered soundly on her chair. The great hero who thwarted a massive army all by herself now enjoys her carefree time inside this small but peaceful room.
From Kevlar and leather, she now wears a layer of soft cotton and wool. From large firearms, what now lies on her hand is a book that rests on her lap; its pages flipping as the wind ruffled its pages. It’s been 2 years now since she was forced to retire. Dozens of other sieges and offensives has been launched; many of which were greater in terms of casualty rate, destructiveness, and strategic importance. But her heroism could never be pushed to obscurity and to this day, her name still elicits a significant importance to us all.
On my first step, her eyes opened and her voice rang out in greeting, “It is bad manners to enter a girl’s room without knocking.”
“I know,” I said in reply, “But I was hoping to play a prank while you’re sleeping.”
Her smile then showed, brightening up the mood in the room but her eyes reflected none of such joys. In a soft voice, she spoke, “Do you really want to see me?”
“Do you?” I returned and she giggled softly. In that moment, we came to forget all the burdens that we bear. Then, I reached for the handles in her chair and pushed her out of the room.
“Come, come. Let’s get some fresh air outside,” I said before pushing her wheelchair and taking her with me.
…
Accompanied by a comfortable silence, we went down the cold path. Though we spoke no words, being in the presence of each other filled our heart with calm and serenity. We finally took our stop on a gazebo in the middle of the snowfields. The stone walls were frozen and covered with a thin layer of ice but on the same stone, one could find the black stems of the roses that once crept through its pillars. This was the garden of the sanatorium where flowers of every color bloom merrily throughout the seasons; a lovely sight to behold for those who cannot leave the hospital walls. But as it is winter, the seeds laid sleeping as they await the return of the warm sun.
Ismene tried to reach for a piece of the stem but the moment her finger touched it, it crumbled like ash. The sadness in her eyes were apparent, as if she yearned to be pricked by its thorns once more.
“The winter sure is long,” I remarked, “I wonder if I’ll ever see spring before I die.”
I tried to lighten up the mood with a small talk but she ignored me and replied, “I just finished reading a great book.”
“What was it about?” I asked curiously. Her eyes then drifted off into the distance as she spoke of its story.
“It was the story of a place that was forever shrouded in darkness. The sun never rises and the season never changes. It was believed to be a common thing and was never questioned by the people except for a couple who believes that they could change everything if they could just climb up the tower that stretches above the sky.
“One day, they decided to break the rules and broke through the tower’s giant doors and began their ascent. Through the rusted gears, perilous staircases, and labyrinth pathways, they climbed while holding each other’s hand. They were scared and wanted to go back but they knew that they cannot give up.
“At the end of the staircase was a rusty metal door with a faded “Welcome” sign. When they opened it, they were welcomed to a world that they’ve never seen before; an exhilarating world where light pours in abundance and beautiful flowers bloom wildly across the land. The air felt clean and soothing and a warm breeze blew gently on their skin. With smiles on their faces, they held each other’s hands firmly as they marveled the landscape of light…”
Ismene’s voice then started drifting off. I wanted to nudge her to continue talking but I noticed the tears swelling in her eyes.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she apologized as she wiped a tear from her eyes her voice was shaking, “I promised that I won’t cry today. I look ugly don’t I?”
She forced herself to giggle at her self-deprecating words, but slowly, her façade broke down.
“Why?” she cried.
Overwhelmed by her grief, she planted her face in her hands as she let her emotions flow.
“Why did I fail?”
It was then that I was returned to a glimpse of our dream-like past.
…
“You know, I never experienced freedom in my life,” Ismene said as the fire of their camp crackled, illuminating her and Myra with the flicker of a cold flame.
Alone in the winter forest, they took solace on the company of the other as they await the sun to rise again before they could advance.
“My entire life was in the lab and the military. I don’t want to see the children of the future suffering the same fate that I do. I want to give them the life I never had.”
The words echoed inside my head as her broken self finally showed. Once, I thought those words were spoken out of whim but then, she showed that it meant so much more to her.
“I’m sorry. Please forgive me,” Ismene’s grieving voice begged.
For so long, she tried to keep a calm and composed image but now that we were alone, she can do nothing but be honest to her weakness.
Though she survived the battle, it burned her nerve connections so badly that her control over her own gem was no longer stable, dangerous even. Ever since then, she was locked inside this sanatorium, forced to watch as the casualties of war rose with her absence. Night after night, she was tormented by the thoughts of the lives she could have saved if only she could still fight. The battlefield was the only place she knew and it was also the only place where she could find her purpose. But now that it was stripped away from her, she met a fate that she could never accept.
For us, her sacrifices shall forever be revered but for her, the war had already ended.
I wrapped my arms around her and tried to soothe her broken heart. In that soft embrace, I came to felt the sadness that she bore for so long. She was aware of the influence that she held and she was aware that if she let herself break in front of everyone, so would they. She was strong, she had to. Even if she had to play pretend for the people she loves.
Crying even louder, I tightened my embrace and stroked her head as I nudged her to keep no secrets bottled anymore. Whether be it the horrors of battle, or in mourning and grief, we shall forever be together. This was the vow we made.
…
We do not know how long we stayed in the garden but by the time we finally found our calm, it was already night. The bells of the church rang out in a humble lullaby as it paid heed to the holy night that serenaded our soul. Enveloped by the darkness, the lamppost shone brilliantly, making the snow glitter as it illuminated the peaceful world. Sitting on a chair, Ismene’s head rested on my shoulder as if she was asleep. With a smile on our faces, we cherished this small moment where the humble music brought us peace.
The ghosts of our past finally found their rest, our hearts felt at ease, and our wounds have been mended. Holding each other close and dear, we counted all the time that passed, cherishing every moment that the bell rang.
When it finally halted, there was nothing to keep us back anymore. After the silence came, two figures appeared on the other side of the garden. Two women clad in a mourning dress approached us slowly.
“Lady Ismene, it’s time,” one of them spoke, aware of the legendary feats that she had done for everyone.
One of them reached for Ismene’s wheelchair but Ismene calmly told her off.
“Please,” she said as she began to stand up on her own two feet.
Her stand was unstable but it was enough to let her walk without assistance. Ismene’s smile did not fade as she bade me a goodbye.
“My final duty calls,” she said to me, “I hope to see you agai—”
Then she realized the mistake she just made.
“N-no. I don’t mean we should meet again too soon. I just—”
“Just go,” I interrupted her, “If our underlings are slacking off, please give them a slap for me.”
She giggled at my word. A music that sounded so serene and pure that you can tell that her heart carried no wounds anymore. Then she turned and walked along with the women in black. I watched as how she took her steps away. Every sound of her footstep was counted as she slowly faded in the distance. In a sudden whim, I found my voice.
“I’ll open the door for you,” I said loudly and she turned to me curiously so I repeated my words, “The door at the end of the tower. I shall open for you and I will give light to everyone.”
With those words, she smiled again. Then, she dashed back towards me and gave me a kiss.
It was a sudden kiss that caught me completely off guard but I raised no resistance. As the sweetness of her lips filled me with the taste of her love, I closed my eyes and let her linger for a while. The sensation of her lips against mine made my heart flutter with glee but at the moment she broke off, I finally felt the true bitter aftertaste of a final farewell.
When she broke off, her head faced downward and refused to look at me in the eye.
Holding me by the shoulders, she spoke, “Can you do me another favor?”
“Anything.”
“I don’t want to see you get hurt, so please…”
She looked back at me, her smile was still there but I could already feel that she was about to cry. In her soft voice, she spoke the final words.
“Please forget about me.”
She did not wait for my reply and just ran back to them. She left me in the uncaring cold with nothing but her bitter words along with the lingering longing and regret for all the words I could have said.
Underneath the hazy winter sun, the new recruits took formation in front of their superiors. Hundreds of new faces marred by a past that they all share. Each one had a different motivation and aspiration for taking up arms but all of them had nothing in their eyes but the will to fight the ones who threaten the land.
In this training ground, their inexperienced hands shall be strengthened and their incompetence shall be re-forged by the blood on the mud and they shall be weapons that would eliminate anyone who stands in their way. These were the words that Myra, the highest ranking officer in the vicinity, said as she scrutinized every private in the platoon.
“You shall face a lot of hardships. You shall witness plenty of deaths,” Myra spoke as she walked through their line.
Her charismatic presence and fabled name brought fear and admiration to the soldiers that she walked pass through.
“But no matter what it is that you may lose…”
Myra’s walking suddenly halted as a little flicker caught her eye. When she looked at it, her strong stance softened down as she felt her heart sinking.
It was a girl who stood mighty and unresponsive to her superior’s speech, as if unaware and unconcerned about the things that Myra had done; a peculiar action that was justified by the gem that was attached to her neck. It was the gem that once protected the life of the only person that can stand up to Myra and it still continues to do so.
Unable to resist, Myra reached over for the new girl’s neck but on the last moment, her hand swayed and fixed the new girl’s messed up collar instead. Then, in a soft voice, Myra continued her words.
“…never forget the ones you love.”
In a world where tragedy is a common tale, not even the tears of a hero could be heard. But no matter how many sad stories were shed, the war moves on.
END OF BAD END #1
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