Night of Chaos

A strong hum of energy and excitement could be felt. A festive celebration that was held every ten years was called KIA in memory of their goddess, who was born with an ultimate power that she used to protect and fight for her people in prime time.

On this day, necromancers were forbidden to use their powers for even the slightest of things. The consequences of such disobedience were a painful death, falling into nothingness, and never being reincarnated into the next life.

Tables and stalls were set up in strategic locations, each laden with an abundance of food that the villagers had lovingly prepared.

The KIA celebration was a gathering consisting of loads of food that were packed at respective places. The aroma of freshly cooked dishes wafted through the air, tantalizing the senses and making mouths water in anticipation. Plates of steaming rice, fragrant curries, crispy fried snacks, and sweet desserts were arranged in neat rows, tempting all who passed by.

Everywhere, people were talking, flirting, kissing, and dancing to the Hasapiko spilling out of the violoncello, harp, and lyre. The tone and beat were made expertly by the synergies of the musicians, who produced sweet melodies by performing in the aulos.

Amid the hustle and bustle, children, known as "," darted around with uncontainable energy. Their laughter and playful screams added to the joyful ambiance, making it clear that this celebration was not just for the adults.

Teenagers, on the other hand, formed small groups, engaging in discreet glances and shy smiles as they tried to catch each other's attention, their budding romantic interests intertwining with the festive atmosphere.

Visitors from other villages and regions also joined the celebration, their presence adding to the sense of unity and camaraderie. As they walked through the square, they were often approached by the elder members of the village, known as "papou," who welcomed them with open arms.

The papou would present the visitors with a strip of cotton or silk known as "Hada," a symbol of hospitality and goodwill.

This simple gesture spoke volumes about the values of the community: kindness, respect, and generosity.

As the night sky enveloped the village square, the atmosphere took on a magical quality. Hog roasts were slow-cooked over open flames, the scent of sizzling meat filling the air. The moonlight cast a soft, silvery glow over the scene, creating a sense of enchantment that added to the celebratory spirit.

However, amidst the joyous celebration, the galloping of horses and the whining of their reigns suddenly disrupted the serene ambiance. Dust billowed up from the ground as the horses approached, their arrival catching the attention of all present.

Chariots of horses, known as "Triga" and "Quadriga," appeared, each one driven by skilled charioteers. These charioteers were also swordsmen, their impressive war armor gleaming under the moonlight. They rode atop their horses, their swords held high above their heads, their presence exuding power and strength.

The moon's reflection caught the surface of their swords, creating a dazzling spectacle of glimmering light and shadows that danced on the ground.

As the charioteers swung their swords and clashed them in the air, the sound echoed through the once joyous and serene atmosphere. The swinging and hitting of swords marked a departure from the peaceful celebration, introducing an element of excitement and adrenaline.

Amidst the laughter and celebration, a sudden shout shattered the festive atmosphere. The joyful chatter turned into gasps of horror as the words reverberated through the village square: "Kill each and every one of them!" Panic spread like wildfire as villagers and mystical beings looked around, their faces contorted with fear and disbelief.

"What do they mean by that?" Someone asked amidst the crowd with panic written all over his face.

In an instant, chaos erupted. People ran in all directions, seeking safety and shelter. The once harmonious gathering devolved into a scene of mayhem as poisonous arrows whizzed through the air, their sinister intent clear. The arrows found their targets with deadly accuracy, leaving victims in agonizing pain.

The screams of those struck by the arrows echoed through the night, their cries mixing with the horrified shouts of those who witnessed the carnage.

The poison worked quickly, bringing about a gruesome and painful death that was both cruel and merciless. The atmosphere that had once been filled with laughter and camaraderie was now tainted with terror and despair.

As the chaos unfolded, the acrid smell of burning grass filled the air. Huts, once vibrant and filled with life, were now engulfed in flames that danced wildly against the dark night sky.

The crackling of the fire and the roar of the flames added to the cacophony of fear and destruction. The villagers' homes, their havens of comfort and security, were being reduced to smoldering ruins.

The villagers frantically searched for an escape route, their eyes wide with panic. The paths that had once led them to safety were now blocked by the relentless advance of the fire. With each passing moment, the flames crept closer, leaving no room for hope.

Amidst the chaos, brave souls emerged, determined to defend their loved ones and their village.

"We must protect the birth of our land!" A woman shouted out loud enough for people to hear, and immediately she was hit by an arrow from nowhere.

Men and women took that as motivation to grow their courage, and they stood their ground, using whatever makeshift weapons they could find to fend off the attackers. Their faces were etched with determination, and their hearts were filled with the fierce urge to protect their homes and their way of life.

Amid the chaos, a group of villagers managed to gather in a central location, their eyes fixed on their leader for guidance. Their faces were marked with soot and sweat, and their bodies were weary from the chaos that surrounded them. Yet their spirit remained unbroken, and their resolve was unwavering in the face of adversity.

"We will not let fear dictate our actions," their leader declared, his voice carrying a sense of authority and determination. "We stand united as one community, one family. Together, we will fight for our survival and for the future of our village!"

The villagers responded with a resounding cheer, their voices ringing out amidst the chaos. Their unity and determination were a beacon of hope in the midst of darkness. With renewed courage, they rallied together, using their collective strength to repel the attackers and protect their homes.

As the battle raged on, the night sky was illuminated by the flames of burning huts and the flashes of swords clashing against one another. The air was thick with tension, a symphony of chaos and courage intertwined in a dance of survival.

In the face of danger and destruction, the villagers showcased the true depth of their resilience. The battle was not just a fight for their lives, but a testament to their unwavering spirit and their unbreakable bonds.

Amidst the chaos and the clash of swords, the villagers fought not just for themselves but for the generations that would come after. Their courage and unity painted a vivid portrait of the strength that could be found within a community that refused to be defeated.

As the moon cast its soft glow upon the scene, it bore witness to the villagers' bravery and their determination to rise above the darkness that threatened to consume them.

The attack had come without warning, catching the villagers off guard and unprepared for the violent onslaught that followed. The once joyful celebration had transformed into a nightmare as the attackers descended upon the village with malevolent intent. The cries of the villagers echoed through the air, a chilling symphony of fear and desperation that pierced the night.

The defenders of the village, brave men and women who had never anticipated such a brutal confrontation, found themselves facing an enemy that showed no mercy. Their makeshift weapons and valiant efforts were no match for the ruthless attackers, who seemed to move with uncanny precision and purpose.

Amidst the chaos, the cries of grief were heart-wrenching. Older men, who had once lived peaceful lives, now found themselves grieving over their late wives, their tears mixing with the dust of the battle. The pain in their eyes was a testament to the shattered lives that lay in the wake of the attack.

Women, too, were not spared from the horrors of the night. Their cries of anguish filled the air as they mourned the loss of their husbands and children, their world torn apart by the sudden onslaught. The attackers showed no restraint, their blades slicing through the air as they sought to eliminate anyone in their path.

Amidst the chaos, the youth fought valiantly, their faces etched with determination and fear. They had yet to experience the joys and sorrows of life, but now they were thrust into a battle for survival, their innocence stripped away by the brutality of the attackers. Their cries of pain were agonizing, a stark reminder of the cost of war to those who had barely begun to live.