*"In a single day and night of misfortune, the island of Atlantis disappeared into the depths of the sea."*
-Plato
The ground shook beneath my feet as the battle raged on. Pain coursed through my arm, but I didn't care. The end had come, and there was nothing left for me to live for.
"He was right," I thought to myself as I felt another tremble, this time greater than the first. The slaughter continued on as trees fell, and the ground shook. The sky turned a deep blood red, and my cracked lips burned in the fiery air. I looked around myself, at my friends and enemies, and lastly at my brother who stood beside me, keeping a tight grip on my right hand. They didn't know the end was here; they were oblivious.
I looked up as the final seal of death rose above the mountains to the east. The waves flew in the air, a beautiful painting of blue and green against the scarlet-red sky, casting purple shadows down upon the valley. I tightened my grip on my brother's hand as everyone stopped, and as one by one they noticed their death approaching.
Mountains of fire erupted and sent fiery rain down upon us. No one moved; we just stood there, looking upon our decided fate. I knew there was no point in trying to survive. Water to the east, and fire the west. It was either burn or drown; we would all die either way.
My body went numb, and my mind felt at ease. I knew my end had come, and I welcomed it. I knew the earth was better off without me. Better off, with one less murderer in the world. Better off, without Atlantis.
I clasped my hand around the pendant on my neck as a solitary tear slid down my cheek. Atlantis then looked death in the eye, and surrendered itself to its darkness.