O' Woe to us all,
As the Horse's Stomp and the Thunder's Cry,
Mute the Final Wail of his Soul!
Epilogue: Decimation
He stood upon a peak of bodies, friend and foe indistinguishable. The abyssal black armor was battered in almost every place, his head was hung, and his eyes more crimson than the fresh blood that ran down the tip of his sword, washed out by the falling rain. He exhaled through his battered helm. His breath created a visible cloud, obscuring the vision of indescribable death underneath, for which he was subconsciously grateful. He closed his eyes and listened to the howling wind that mourned the battle. Seconds passed that seemed like an eternity. The noise of rain filled his mind. For some reason, he enjoyed standing there, under the fall of water. It had eased his aching heart in the past. However, all he felt now was the thud of raindrops, like an endless drum roll. No longer did he feel peace. He exhaled once more, purging his mind from the thought. There was much to do.
Slowly, the traitor began his decent. The mountain of corpses formed a flight of stairs and he stepped down towards the ground with the regality of an emperor, and with his sword drawn, his aura was that of the an executioner. He stomped onto mud made crimson and glared at the mess of metal-clad soldiers, catching their attention with a wordless glance. They quickly gathered their composure and saluted him as he strode towards them. He could see that they were worse for wear. The battle was hard won and the euphoria of victory was not enough to stem their exhaustion.
Yet, despite the hardship, the main forces of Eleve, Ettinor, Desor, and Milhol were all either completely annihilated, or so far broken that they were no longer a threat even as guerrilla fighters. With them gone, Innail was all that was left on northeastern border. He had wanted to avoid a full on confrontation in the Innail Fesse; the only practical way to directly attack Innail would be through the Fesse. Any other way would prove too time consuming. However, now that the areas that surrounded the Innail Fesse were weak and defenseless, his army could sack the villages for supplies and hold the road to Innail indefinitely. His forces would starve the people out of their secure valley. If he took Innail, the Dark would rule unbridled on this side of Edil-Amarandh.
"Leave a contingent to loot the bodies of equipment. Kill any stragglers and survivors. Waste no time taking prisoners. Cavalry and available infantry units will regroup on the southern side of the Imlan River, using the river as a wave breaker." With a wave of his sword, the soldiers ran off, slaying and pillaging without hesitation. He watched his subordinates commit their atrocities in solemn silence, as if he witnessed a holy event that required reverence.
For a moment, he thought that a drop of rain had snuck its way into his visor. He felt the drop flow from the tip of his eye down to his cheek. He blinked once. His mind was so far gone now that he could not hear the cries of his own soul. The sudden stamping of horses and the crash of thunder muted the screams of the dead and the dying.
Most of all, they silenced the voices of regret and doubt once and for all.
Author's Notes:
For all those that are wondering why the Epilogue is the first chapter in the story:
I wanted to make it painfully apparent that this story will end sadly, that at the end of the protagonist's journey is death. The death of his loved ones. The death of his ideals. And most of all, the death of his soul. The best way I saw I could do this, was to drive that point home with a vision of our protagonist's horrible, but inevitable future right from the get go. I felt that it was necessary to tell the readers that the ending is not what matters in my story; it's the choices that lead up to that end that make the story enjoyable and even touching. I hope you all feel the same way, and look forward to my next chapter!
And yes, the name of the protagonist will be revealed in the next chapter.