Upon the razed land, turned to a stretch of craters, Rowan crashed down from the sky, landing on both feet. A breath was pushed from his lips as he wiped the blood and sweat from his chin, looking towards the one laid in the deepest of the craters.
"You survived that? You’re really sothing, Valerius," Rowan complinted with a tired breath, smiling.
The monstrous knight picked himself up wearily as the scales fell from his body like shattered glass. Each aspect of the dragon faded, crumbling away as nothing was left but the man himself, with a hole in his chest bearing no heart.
"This is how it ends, then...?" Valerius questioned in a wheeze, hardly holding any life in his eyes.
Rowan stood there, hesitant to approach for the final blow as the man seed a few breaths away from the reaper, "Yeah, seems that way."
As the knight devoid of his own heart wobbled, blinking as consciousness beca a fickle thing, the wind whispered in his ear—
[//Stand, Knight of Mastorn. Warrior. For the kingdom that gave you purpose. For the people you wish to defend. Fight. Fight, Valerius.
This is my Blessing, as the God of War—Ares.//]
A fla flickered in the once resigned irises of the knight as he straightened himself out. Rowan imdiately recognized that rejuvenated look; a man that had not yet given up.
In that charred, caved-in valley that had seen a war between the two n, the Outlander felt a chill. The air around the heartless knight changed; a scarlet breeze, a stench of blood.
"A sword—I need a sword!" Valerius shouted as blood spat from his mouth, holding his hand up.
From one of the fallen soldiers, a blade now without a wielder rose on its own. To the knight’s hand, like a magnet for war, the sword flew right into his grip.
’He’s got a weapon–? How the hell did he do that?’ Rowan witnessed.
Against all aspects of "reason", the Outlander witnessed the man without a heart charging at him with more vigor than most young n. There was sothing eerie about the charging warrior; the look of utter, burning determination inlaid within those eyes, an undying tenacity–
’Shit. This isn’t great, is it? My hamr is gone, I restricted my ability to use magic against Valerius, and now my benefits from that are gone. Haaah–I really did it now!’ Rowan thought.
He held his hand out in much the sa way of the knight, "Give a sword in exchange for one hour of my life!"
From the graveyard of soldiers, one of the dormant blades flung towards him in exchange for the small, but precious exchange of life. As it arrived in his grip, he smiled with red-hot passion, staring down the blessed warrior.
"I’m not much of a swordsman, so I hope I don’t disappoint you!" Rowan shouted excitedly, sprinting to et the man halfway.
Even if the grass was black, if the soil beneath his feet slled like burning sulfur, he felt right at ho; racing across the field for a touchdown. One last defender, blocking his way from victory–he saw the knight on his last stand as one such obstacle.
As his feet slamd against the dirt, pounding against the soil at the sa pace of the knight, he squeezed the handle. Within reach, he watched the knight pull his blade back, ready to swing–
At that exact mont, he pushed forward with a burst of speed, leading with his shoulder as he tackled the knight.
"Grrh–?!" Valerius gasped, stumbling back.
In that opening as the knight struggled to regain his footing, Rowan closed in, ramming forward with the blade pointing forward. A wild, desperate swing ca down as the warrior’s blade slashed right across his chest.
Rowan pushed through it, plunging the sword through the chest of the man who should’ve long since already fallen.
"Sorry, I told you I’m not much of a swordsman," Rowan said, breathing out as he pushed the sword through.
The strength finally seed to leave the knight’s body as the blade slipped from his fingertips, letting his arms hang limp at his sides as blood dribbled from his lip.
Valerius stood there as the glint of war left his eyes, with only faint strength left, "No...You were magnificent."
As the knight’s eyes closed, all the pain washed away, a warmth taking hold of his body as all worries subsided.
["For a life as worthless as mine, I am satisfied to have fought with everything I had. To be granted so modicum of aning, that is enough for . Isn’t it?"]
Though he welcod the end, the man found himself yearning for more–a closure he didn’t quite understand. In that soothing void of white, teetering on the threshold, every mory was unraveled from the man’s mind.
["Valerius...That’s right. I had another na, didn’t I? The one my mother gave –no, she wouldn’t. She didn’t want . She discarded , didn’t she?"]
As his entire life flashed before his eyes, a journey devoid of freedom nor choice, he found himself at the one point in ti he was truly free; as an infant. The woman of blonde hair dressed in rugged, dirty clothes, sitting in a small patch of flowers; the one place free from the noisy streets.
["Mother."]
He recognized the woman, who looked down at the baby in her arms with such fondness; a look he did not recognize until experiencing it again. True, unconditional love, from that of a mother.
"Johann...I’m sorry. I can’t give you the life you deserve," the mother apologized to the infant that couldn’t understand any of the words, only giggling to itself, gleeful and without worry. "These people though...They promise to give you a good life. Isn’t that great? I just hope...maybe you sohow rember ."
Witnessing the mories buried at the very start of his life, the man found himself without words, feeling the heart he sorely missed clenched in his chest.
["Johann...That’s my na? Johann...I am loved, after all? A person like , am I deserved of such a precious thing?"]
–
In the valley that looked as though it’d been ravaged by both natural disaster and wars alike, the Outlander stood among the shattered soil as embers and sparks fluttered like snowflakes. He quietly breathed out, looking at the knight whose light had left his eyes, laid on the ground.
As he caught his breath, he was approached by the dark-haired woman, who stared at the gash across his chest.
Astrid sighed, "Why does it always turn out this way with you? You’ll lead yourself to an early grave at this rate." She warned with a look of worry in her athyst eyes.
"You still don’t understand, Astrid," Rowan answered with a tired smile, touching the wound on his chest as he looked at the fresh blood. "For , a life of reservation isn’t worth living. I take the good with the bad–this is my best life."
The admission from the fiery-hearted Outlander hardly cald the worry in Astrid’s heart as she looked away, having to take in a breath to herself as she mumbled, "You’re right. I don’t understand. You’re a true idiot, Rowan–but, that’s just who you are."
Reviews
All reviews (0)