1 THE FALL
"… LIVE ON-"
They destroyed everything. The raging flaming arrows set the village ablaze. Screams of innocent women and children echoed. The swings of furious blades clashed against equal blades worthy of belonging to the Grads. The warriors of our village who fought with valour and honour right till the very end. It was obviously ancient tradition to fight to the death. Perhaps it's just our stubborn blood. Blood spilled across the beat sands of Garda. The fire caused heatwaves thicker than water to hold like a screen in the midst of the night sky. I could barely see. I could barely breathe. Yet I saw. As clear as day I saw that man. A large man with his black and red lined uniform with a white and gold mask with a long katana looking slightly down upon my father. The chief Garda.
It was almost like the roaring flames seized just momentarily to witness this battle.
The golden masked man swung. Reckless with rage and malicious intent, sinister swings blasting away at my fathers fine cut katana. The clanks and clashes could be heard from miles away. Heavy yet precise attacks flustered away but each exchange was met with my fathers vicious yet lethal cuts. They say the chiefs blade is crafted on the mount of Zion, meant to protect the village. An unbreakable sword. But this man, had eyes of death, like a soul reaper ready to take the next soul. A red glow illuminated through the mask it was as if he lost in a frenzy of war. You could hear menacing cackle after each exchange of the blade, his laugh of pleasure at the moment of battle. His attacks got even heavier, faster even deadlier. But my father chief Felix of Garda was never going to die without killing this man. What type of Chief would he be if he did..
In an instant rage my father let out all what was left used his Rai slash. The hidden technique of the Garda in which he pierced through the enemies general heart.
What could I do. Nothing. Celebration was futile for the war was lost. Both of them died. The battle ended
I knew if it was a war fought 5 years sooner it would have been won. But my father was old. I knew he couldn't even last more than 10 trades yet despite this he refused to die in vain. Even in death my father was a warrior.
As he dropped to the floor. The village was really gone,nothing but ashes and the beastly pack of men who raided Garda stood above those ashes. Empty.
All I had left was my mother and my sole friend. I held her hand tightly as myself and Lionel tried to move her bloodied body away from the rage. Away from the terror. But it was pointless. There was no escape from death. Those men take no prisoners. Instead, she held my hand tightly.
"Xavier my beautiful son live on and become a fine warrior worthy to avenge your village." Tears and pain took a hold of me. Her dying words faded away into the bloody reign of yesterday. I lost my hope, my village and family.
Indeed everything was destroyed.
Looking back into the distance I saw the fall of Garda…at that second everything within me turned into a dark void of rage. I only sought for vengeance. Myself and Lionel. A slightly older boy the son of the vice chief of Garda fled as we where told. We ran. Truly for our lives.
In the midst of uncertainty only one thing was certain.
"I WILL GET REVENGE!"