A/N: Randomly decided to write this. If someone has done this before, I havent deliberately copied you. please read and review and if you enjoy it, well im halfway through a sort of follow up oneshot and i have another in this style called beneath a moonless sky so feel free to check it out.
Doom. Doom. Doom. It echoes out of the darkness ahead. A metallic drumbeat of metal and armour and harsh roars and grunts. There is nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. A wall of impenetrable rock towers behind, hemming us in. It is our goaler, herding us to execution. We stand against a wall, waiting for the arrows to fly, to bite, to kill.
A whip cracks overhead, splitting the sky with blinding light. And, for a second, we see our fate. Metal, spikes, creatures of horror, the army from hell, stands at our gates. And we are trapped, like a bug on a rock.
The rain drums on rock, armour, leather, flesh. Doomdoomdoomdoomdoomdoom. Pattering our fate in every nook and cranny, every crevice of this fortress. There is no escape. There is no hope in the darkness. Our farewells have been said and we stand, motionless sentinels, alone. Yet we are shoulder to shoulder, packed tight, weapons bristling above. But each of us is lost in the maelestrom of thoughts, the solitude inside. The things we should have done or said, not done and not said. The things we wanted to do but never had time. We all think the same things but we do not say. We just stand, alone in the crowd.
The wave is about to break, the arrows about to fly. The darkness ahead is studded with torches. They do not provide us light to see the enemy. Yet we all see them, overlaying our vision, that lightning lit second imprinted upon our eyes. The tension shakes us, makes us quiver, our hearts beat faster, blood pumps harder. Muscles scream and our weapons shake. Blood-crazed chants, tortured horns, and the deathly clang of armour on shields fills the night. The rain patters our doom.
A muscle fails, control is lost, the agony of waiting broken. A lone arrow begins its flight to the distant, shrouded stars. With it flys our last scraps of hope. As it falls into the fire-spotted darkness, they follow, and as it is swallowed up into the shadows, they are consumed.
The end is here.