In a small northern city, smoke rises in billows, men and creatures lay dead in pools of blood, and the dead and dying see nothing but bleakness as the cheers, everything that they had fought for was destroyed in hours. Men were slain, women and children raped and killed or taken as prisoners for slavery and trophies of conquest. This is where one man cursed the heavens, but only in mind alone, for his very arm had been sliced off when he faced off against one of the generals that had lead the siege on his very city.
He had been a hero of world renown, but even now he could feel his breath draw close, his very body feeling colder with every passing second, his vision becoming blurry. If only he had one chance to change the battle, to have won against the general, more lives would have been saved, his family.. His wife.. What had become of her..? His body shuddered as he tried reaching up with his remaining arm, "Marinna.." With his last breath, he become limp, a once proud man who fought bravely against the disease of evil that had wanted to spread was now just another slain body.. His arm fell across his chest, his eyes staring vacantly into the twilight sky..
There was light still, was there? He couldn't really remember, his head hurt as he couldn't seem to move his body. Trying to struggle, he felt a soft touch of a hand against his face, and the hand filled his heart with such emotion that tears sprang from his closed eyes, his very chest contracted as he silently cried.
"My child.." Said the voice, soft as velvet, gently in tone, and yet it was so familiar to him, and yet it was neither male nor female but somehow a blend of both. "I have watched you grow from the day you were born.." He wanted to open his eyes, he wanted to see who this was, he needed to see who this was. But his body still refused to move as he felt the voice lean over him and gently kiss his forehead, just like his mother use to do to comfort him when he was hurt or bullied. Tears continued to fall down his face as he cried, not realizing why, but knew that this touch of tenderness, of compassion, of pure love, he wanted to be forever in it.
"But the time to die has not yet come.. For even death, when she came to claim you was told that you were still alive.." He wanted to speak, to ask where he was, who was talking to him, but the simple touch was enough to keep him still, to stop struggling, to listen to this mysterious voice. "You will be sent back to vanquish the evil that is spreading in my world, for even in despair, in desperation and depression, when you felt that all was lost, you continued to fight.." His tears finally slowing, he could hear a smile in the voice and his body flooded with happiness.
"Go back to the world of the living my son, and take hope, for the world in its entirety, needs to balanced before I am to return.. So please, remember that I am forever with you, always able to hear your pleas for help and mercy. But also remember that on the world, my power is not easily seen so be ready to fight the temptations that come your way.."
And with that he was finally able to sit up, his mouth open, tears falling down his face as he tried to reach out to to the voice that was so familiar that it made his very body full to the brim of happiness and contentedness of the likes that he had never known before. Looking around as the sun began to peek over the battlefield he could see that he had both arms, examining himself he found nothing else save but a small amulet around his neck. The amulet refused all attempts to open but he felt the same stirring in his heart as when he heard the voice that had spoken to him. But now was not the time to marvel at what had transpired, getting up be put his sword back into his hilt, his shield on his back as he wiped away his muddy brown hair back under his black hat. Straightening the brim he took a deep breath and began to pick his way among the dead.
Entering the city itself after several hours he saw nothing but what had transpired during the night, women stripped naked or simply killed in the streets, any that resisted, old and young alike were not spared from the clutches of the enemy army. A rising hatred grew in his chest, his heart fixed on what he had been told, "vanquish the evil.." If he was indeed chosen, then he would fight, he would not rest, for the world needed heroes, of men and women such as himself to take on the battle that would take their lifetimes, and even their lives to vanquish the evil that was plaguing the world around him.
Unable to fight back the impulse, he looked to the brightening sky and yelled a battle cry, that was filled with hope and hatred. Everything was quite as the yell silenced the chattering of the birds that had come to feast on the dead. Looking around he equipped a lone horse that had seen better days with a saddle and filled it with some stale bread and a flask of water.
His mission clear, that even the horse seemed to kneel in front of him as he surveyed his destroyed world in which he had been reborn. However before he began his journey he knelt before the battle field, sword in both hands, the blade in the earth he prayed for the dead, for his family, for strength that the voice had promised him. And he made a promise in the city of the north, to never forget, to never give up, to continue fighting until he was struck down or the evil finally vanquished.
The horse nipped his shoulder and he smiled, getting up, blade in scabbard, he got onto the horse and whispered something gently in its ear. The horse neighed briefly, and almost seeming to nod it made its way out of the city as the dawn crested the hill on which the city had been built upon. Nothing would be the same for this chosen hero, nothing would ever be easy, but he could feel the love that he felt when he felt the kiss on his forehead and smiled. Today was his first step, today his world was changed, and today, would the man no longer hesitate.. For today, was a good day to die..
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