Fire Emblem and any of its original characters and original storyline do NOT belong to me.
That night, a powerful storm brewed.
Not just any storm, however; a storm out of the ordinary...
...A storm that would make its mark in history in due time.
Savage winds were literally tearing small trees out from their roots, and combined with fierce rain, it was like a storm of flying daggers. Clouds themselves looked like fierce black demons in disguise marching along with the rhythm of the menacing drumming of the thunder, devastating the plains and hammering their angry fury to the land below. There was no sign of light - aside from the blinding flashes of lightning- not even a sign of life. No, this was a storm that marked the very earth.
The gusts against his back were torturous, like a whip that was constantly slashing him mercilessly. He was almost brought down to his knees from such endure, but he managed to tolerate it, but barely. The rain that plunged down on him didn't help at all.
He was beaten to a pulp - his eyes were inflamed from bruises he had received, and to his discontent unwanted tears trailed down his numb face and ultimately froze on his skin. His body was starting to quiver, his energy ebbing away at a frightening rate. He felt like every bone in his body was shattered for every step he took sent an almost unbearable jolt in his aching body.
Regardless of his pain, he kept on going, though his mind was so exhausted he started to absentmindedly contemplate collapsing and lying there, though he was just hardly conscious enough to be aware that would be nothing short of suicide... Not that he would survive.
He abruptly fell onto his knees, half-aware. Then temptation seeped in him to fully collapse and rest...
Keep going. Don't give up.
The voice in the back of his mind pleaded. He was breathing heavily - actually drowning in the air that was being forced against him. He was struggling between life and death.
For what?
Keep going.
Why? What for?
Keep going.
His mind was at conflict, but he made a solid decision to keep going and gritted his teeth and forced himself. He tumbled a bit, but unfortunately collapsed before he could balance himself in a painful manner.
Get up.
...Ah...
Keep going.
...Oh shut up...
He couldn't think straight anymore, to this point he didn't listen or even trust his conscience. Or voices he was starting to hear. He couldn't tell either way if he was crazy or sane. The only thing he knew for a fact that he was dying slowly. His nagging starvation in his gut wasn't helping either way.
It was uncomfortable. It was dishonoring... to die like this. Why did he feel this way? It wasn't like his life was significant... he strangely felt desperate, but there is nothing he could do. It was the helplessness that angered him - that pained him.
He inhaled, closing his eyes and fantasying with the little mental strength he had left. He started to picture light - a light so blinding with greater intensity of the sign in a dark room, and he tried to reach for it. Whispers then leaked into his mind... he couldn't tell what they were saying, but there was something there. The sensation and relief of the light soon dispersed as it slowly faded away, along with the warmth and hope.
He opened his eyes in tiny slits. The light was gone.
Before Mark had totally lost his consciousness, he sensed something hovering over his body, a presence bending down to him. He didn't think much of this - he couldn't even think, for that matter. It meant nothing to him, until he felt something he thought he would never feel again.
Warmth.
A soft, warm hand brushed the wet hair from his face, feeling for a pulse. He had felt that this was just a mere delusion, his mind playing trickery in his last moments, though it felt ever so real. He opened his eyes so slightly, but he succumbs to the pain and lack of strength, only having to see the very brief second of a small ember lamp and the blurred figure of a young woman...
"It's alright…" a worried, yet confident young female voice whispered into his ear before his world completely went black.
And so a hand reached out to him. A helpful hand.
This is a really good story planned in my head. Check up often 'cause I've got chaps on the way… this was basically a prologue. The tactician is a really interesting character, trust me... you'll find out in due time... -grin-