Awaiting The Sunset

 A long time ago, when Agnisthal was a land of glory and harmony, a rather charismatic man was born; Azariah, son of Asfa and Jahan. There were two kind of people who worshipped The God of fire, Agni.

The Khandavis, who worshipped Agni's astral form, the eternal fire of Life.

And the Harees, who worshipped Agni's physical form, the 'Murti' of eternal Fire.

 Since the ancient times, when Agni gifted the humankind with the eternal fire of life, no human could directly touch that fire. The fire would burn anyone and everyone who had committed a sin, or thought themselves to be guilty of sinning.

 But that changed when a young Azariah saw the fire from afar, and the fire reached for his hand. For the first time in ages, someone touched the eternal flame and was not burnt to death.

 A man who never sinned, Azariah, the man whom the gods helped. He showed the Khandavis, ways to stay pure, ways to wash off their sins. And in just a few years a miracle happened, his closest followers were able to touch the fire without harming themselves.

 Azariah spread the word of peace, and about his ways to be closer to God, to live a meaningful life all over the world. But after his death, some of his followers started twisting his words for their advantage; but that twisting of beliefs resulted in something unprecedented, something the virtuous Azariah had never wished nor hoped for.

 Some of the Khandavis who followed Azar's beliefs, suddenly became vengeful, much more susceptible to anger, to fear. The Harees they once considered brothers, suddenly seemed as a threat. They feared that the Harees, who were the majority of people in Agnisthal, will drive them out of their homes; or worse, they will be killed.

 And just like the greatest tragedies of human history, the feared fueled a conflict.

"Jihad", a fight to conquer the evils within to stay pure, to stay true to ones beliefs; a beautiful concept proposed by Azariah, yet was used to spread terrorism. The ones calling themselves 'The Servants of Jihad' twisted the meaning of 'jihad' to be a war against the ones who didn't follow Azariah's way, a war against the enemies of their beliefs, who according to them were the Harees.

 And thus began a meaningless war, The 'jihadis' attacked first, then the Harees attacked back. And amidst this back and forth, the line between the Jihadis and Khandavis faded away in others' eyes.

It was no longer just an act of terrorism, it was a war, between two factions who worshipped the same god; but they had forgotten that. To each of them it was a act of bravery, of glory to protect their people. And came the pivotal moment in that war.

 Emperor Aviraj Agnihotri was assassinated by one of the Jihadis. Before this, the imperial family didn't take part or attack the Jihadis or Khandavis, but the death of his father enraged young Arjuna. And the first thing he did after ascending the throne, was performing a genocide against the ones who took away his father from him. But he was short-tempered, blinded by rage, only killing the jihadis was not enough for him.

 In 1947 AA, Arjuna forced every last of the Khandavis into a corner of Agnisthal, and destroyed the land in between. Hence, Khandava was formed, the nation of the Khandavis, later known as the Khandavans.

 Finally, a somewhat unusual truce was formed; And for a long time none of the nations broke the peace and attacked the other.

And after all these years, the peace was broken once again for vengeance.

*BOOM*CRASH*BOOM*

 The shattering noise of explosions, gunshots, and deaths, a lot of deaths.

"FALL BACK!!!" screamed the 16th platoon commander of Khandavan army; and just as those words came out of his mouth, a canon-ball dropped near him, and in a flash his whole body vaporized.

 The war had been going on for 3 weeks, the imperial army of Agnisthal was obliterating the Khandavans. Experienced marksmen with rifles, seasoned archers with arrows enchanted with fire, canons equipped with bombs, a ginormous army; the imperial army had it all.

 The Sultan (king) of Khandava knew all too well that this was a loosing battle; thus, his strategy was relying more on defense than offence. He thought, his army could buy him enough time to either form another truce, or get help from other nations.

Naturally, truce was impossible, as The new Emperor of Agnisthal had no intentions of stopping the war until he had full control over Khandava. And observing as the Khandavans dared to kill a 'Royal Blood' of Agnisthal, the other nations thought it was best not to intervene in this war; Khandava was on its own.

 This was the 17th battle, and just like all the previous ones, the Khandavans were only loosing more and more soldiers. Every battle would start at the break of dawn, and must halt at the time sunset. The soldiers of Khandava knew they had lost today's battle, all they wished for was to survive till the sunset.

 It was the middle of winter, the sun tends to set earlier than the summer. But today, the sun didn't seem to want to go down. The more the soldiers wished for the sunset, the slower it got.

*BOOM*

 Fara's trance broke, he had seen the commander vaporizing and froze, but this explosion made him snap back to reality. From the mound he was on, he saw the wall of Agni soldiers coming closer, and the canons as well. He noticed a opening among the enemy soldiers, a canister filled with explosives perhaps, a golden opportunity.

 Fara aimed his rifle at the canister, and pulled the trigger!

*click*

 The rifle didn't fire, but why? Ah! The bullets, Fara remembered, his whole platoon had run out of bullets. The soldiers, his brothers-in-arms had long ditched their empty rifles and charged at the enemies with shields and spears. Fara was the only soldier left on the mound; but he saw, how useless it was to attack anymore. Most of his brothers were shot down even before reaching the enemy; and the few who managed to reach them, were no match for the sheer number of enemy troops.

 They were all dead, died by the hands of their enemies. NO! They were set on the path to death by their own. Fara Al-Khatun knew it was a suicide mission; yet he stormed to war, thinking his bravery, his sacrifice would make a difference. But it was all too futile.

 The army they had to fight, was far bigger than what they thought. Fara felt a weight in his chest, he was scared. He knelt down, closed his eyes and waited for a bullet or a bomb to finish him.

 "They're all dead." A faint shivering voice. Fara opened his eyes and looked to his left, where another soldier was standing, with a flintlock (gun) in his hand.

 Fara knew this man was from his platoon, but couldn't remember his name. But what he saw next, confused him. The man put the gun to his chin, and a tear rolled down his eyes.

 "What are you doing?" Fara asked, "We ran out of bullets."

The man kept looking at the army in front and answered, "This is the last bullet left."

 "Then what are you waiting for?! Shoot the…."

"Really?" the man interrupted his sentence, "You want me waste this bullet, on that? You see what is approaching us, right? THAT is not something we can stop. This bullet won't matter!"

 "So what? You're gonna give up? Huh?! You wanna die like a damn coward?!!" Fara screamed in anger.

"Give up, you say? I had given up the moment I saved this bullet. Yes, I don't want to die a coward's death, but….."

 Fara realized, just how terrified the man was, so he tried consolation, "Please, hold out for a little longer. We just need to survive till the sunset."

"We can't!" the man yelled, "Those bastards are marching towards us, every second they are getting closer. We will never last till sunset. We are the last two survivors, they won't just kill us. They will do worse. And even if we do make it out, you really think the only survivors of such a massacre will be respected? We won't be seen as patriots who server their nation, we will be seen as the cowards who abandoned their brothers for survival. A life like that is far more worse than death."

 "Please! Don't do this." Fara requested.

"I'm sorry for leaving you in this hell kid, but this is my only way out." The man looked at Fara, with a warm smile and tears filling his eyes, and he pulled the *bang*.

 A gunshot? But the man hadn't pulled the trigger yet. A bullet went straight to his head, and he fell to the ground. He was killed by a enemy's bullet before he could finish himself.

 Fara was dumbfounded, but his instincts screamed at him to take cover. He hid behind a boulder; with his heart about to explode, he gasped for air. Then his eyes lowered, and he saw that man's gun that he had taken. His hands shook in fear, and then his heart filled with anger.

 Fara peaked from behind the boulder, aimed at the canister of explosives he saw previously; but just when he tried to pull the trigger, he noticed his fingers weren't moving. He realized the anger he felt was closely followed by a tsunami of fear.

 He once again hid behind cover. His mind was swarmed by several thoughts, and each thought piled up on another. 'Shooting the canister will cause an explosion, big enough to kill dozens of soldiers. But even that would not make any difference, would it?' he thought.

 The words of that fellow soldier echoed in Fara's mind, so much so that Fara couldn't even hear the army slowly getting closer. The thought of living with the guilt of not protecting his brothers, being seen as a coward, a traitor, it haunted Fara. And then a rather dreaded thought came to his mind.

 "What if I take the easy way out?" he mumbled to himself, as he held the gun to his head. He had decided to end his suffering, to end his life; and for the last time he remembered his only family, his father, and pulled the trigger.

*click*

 It didn't shoot? Fara was confused, so he shot at himself again *click*, and again *click*, and again *click*.

"Damn itttt!!!!!" Fara screamed his lungs out. He opened the gun, and found it was empty. The man was delusional, there was no last bullet.

 Fara could do nothing, just sit there, and wait for his demise.

*GONG*

 The horn was blown, the sun had set, the war was halted for the day. Fara survived the battle, alone, all alone.