The field was wrought with flesh and blood
bodies splayed across the ground, crimson flowing beneath
unsightly silence filled the grey and foggy air across the muddy battleground
it was almost... beautiful, in a sense.
No gunshots, nor the rumbling of armored machinery, nor the screams of the dying
just silence.
From the mist, a figure slowly emerged, walking across the desolate lands in what looked like a stroll
A man in a battle uniform. Vest and all, helmet, mask, everything, as If one of the corpses was simply reanimated.
Yet this was no simple man, a golden wreath gleamed around his helmet, and his eyes swirled in millions of colors
The figure treaded lightly across the burning wrecks and bodies, suddenly something caught his attention, and he lowered himself.
One of the soldiers was alive, barely clinging to life
You.
Laying there, defenseless, drained of life, slowly perishing, serving your purpose for the fight.
A hand gently grasped yours tenderly
his hand
and then you heard his voice
and it brought back the green, the gold, the joy, the laughter, and mirth.
the good memories.
"I have arrived... Worry not brave one.."
All wasn't lost.
"Rest your eyes, soldier, you have served well.."
Peace, was here.