Rise and Fall

We join this story not at the beginning, but instead we join at an end. We my dear friends begin our time together at the End of the Beginning of the End. Because dear reader, as one thing ends so to must another begin. We will start this journey together with the end of War. Not the concept but the person. The betrayal of a race, and the death of another. The greed of man and the loss of a mother. The fall of the great to a good cause. And the weeping of child broken by the fallen.

There is at the end of a life, a line. Of course being that its the end of the line, no soul wishes to cut, or even to stand in the line. But they must. All mortal lives must end to give way for what comes next. Now in my line, is a woman. A girl really. She walks forward, step, and sees nothing. Not the untold length of souls standing behind her, nor the few left before she reaches me. With a mental sigh I pause my work for but a brief moment.

Child of my kin, blood of my blood. War. You poor dear. You stand here before me, the culmination of all your choices, the good, the bad, and the benign. And they lead you unceasingly to me. You can't see me yet, my poor daughter. Just as you can't see Death behind you in line, one place back. If you could I'm sure this line would be much more active. You both were victims in this ending.

*click* **click*

My worn hands continue my endless task. One marble after another, one soul after another, walking by this desk. I've been here for ages it seems, since the beginning. But that's alright. I get to see my children one last time as they end. War, my poor dear.

*Click* *pause*

She rests in the palm of my hand, I hold her gently and look at her.

A young girl, her hair dark red hair flying free of the partial braid as she chases a group of children around and around, through a village of wooden huts, the sun overhead and the children panting from the heat and the enjoyment of childish fun. They collapse happily against a stone fountain base in the center of the toad, their small feet having kicked up a short lived cloud of dust from the brown dirt road. She stands on the lip of the fountain in triumph, lord over the other children, the victim in the game of chase, herself panting from the exercise. With a loud cry and a laugh a black haired boy pushed her back into the water, claiming his own victory in spirit. Children together in the summer, playing in peace as children should. Happy, safe, and surrounded by the watchful eyes of parents and neighbors as they run and learn together.

*Flash*

A young woman, taller now, but still with a bright smile, and her hair now braided properly, no longer unruly. She stands in leather hunting gear, leaning on the shoulder of a black haired youth who grins as well. Joking and teasing as they walk back into the town, which hasn't changed. They reach their Naming soon, and both are still inundated with the simple joy of the young. Not exposed yet to the dangers of life or the struggle to survive. They stop before the fountain again, and clasp arms as comrades, the arrogance of youth letting them congratulate themselves and each other for the successful hunt.

*Flash*

A new scene now, she has shed the leather of the village trapper. Now adorned in mail and scale, she stands wearily on the edge of a field, crows circling and streaking down or up as other cross this blood soaked ground. Showing what mercy they can to their own fallen, as they crush the hopes of those who still crawl with hope from the vanquished party. Tear run down her face. Gone is her smile, and the playful grace of a young adult entering into a world they know they can tread through with ease. Blood running down one arm from a rent in her mail, her own sword still gripped tightly in her other hand. She lived this time. Maybe it was skill, maybe luck. She doesn't care. War. Her name, and now her place. She stands here, a survivor. A Victor. Triumphant. But at what cost? Her first time killing, a roaring mess of tangled limbs and screaming. Trending on the bodies of enemies and allies alike to cross this pitiful field. She survived though, and her company will recover. She has work to do. Wiping her sword of across her thigh to try and clean it as she steps back onto the field. Time waits for no one, no time now for self pity and tears for the fallen. She buries her childhood here under the banner of a human lord as she marched out for glory, and found only the truth of life.

*Flash*

"We stand here today, to discuss our response to a threat." An grey hair man in formal attire colored in greens and grey. "Death stands in the pass with his army and he will not stop!" With a roar he slams his clenched fist onto the table in front of 12 others who sit in various poses of nervous excitement. The fool has declared himself king and wants to form his own territory by carving it from our kingdom. We. Will. Not. Allow. IT! Each word punctuated by another table shaking slam.