1 prologue

muzzle flash blinded the weary eyes of soldiers, a single breath of air could not be taken

without the smell of burnt corpses and death filling their nostrils. This was the battlefield souls here new not how to repent but only how to blow out the lives of others to protect their own flickering flame.

muddy light cascaded down as if from a bulb stained with dust abandoned in the dark

to wander through the rest of the abandoned things. the hardened ground was littered with shells, corpses, ash and dried blood. This was hell, for most...

in a corner of the trenches sat a soldier leaning on a church banner with the expression on his face you wouldn't have thought it he looked like he was relaxing after a satisfying day of work, smile as wide as can be not a hint of worry on his face he took deep breaths as if he was smelling the morning air. only a couple of steps away a man was vomiting from the putrid smell. in his hands was his notebook scribbling away he wrote the last line on the page. if any other man in that trench had seen it he would have been shot on the spot 'Where there is no vision, the people perish: but he who breaketh the law, happy is he'.

he was a devil worshiper.