Chapter Blurb: The innocent are always the first to suffer in war.

This is officially my first new long-story in over a decade. I am excited to share it with you and hope you enjoy the journey alongside Ash, May, and the rest of their friends.

Please leave your thoughts and questions through a review because I'd love to engage with you! I want to have a Q&A each week to discuss anything you might have in mind. Welcome to Advanced Journeys, friends!

Prologue: Again

Nigh is the time of the Alpha

Nigh is the time when the flowers of May wither into Ash

Thunderous calamity complements brazen flames that raze the earth

Beware the Serene Phoenix who is an omen of a world remade from the clash

The age of monsters and men will give rise to the age of rebirth

An era of remake through acts of sacrilege and rumination

But for rebirth to follow, death must lead with Steel ire

The Dragon Lord will consume the Original One's creation

The worlds will perish amidst the song of Lightning and Fire

Nigh is the time of the Omega

The boy looked back at the woods. He saw the trees bend to the will of the wind's gusts and got the eerie sense that he was being followed. The air was heavy and warm, yet it was light and cold a few moments ago as expected of an evening in the Autumn. Suddenly, something else grabbed his attention.

There was a rustling in the bushes that caught his ear. The boy turned around to see what he'd heard. A smile formed when he saw the woodland creature. "Hi, there." The boy approached the little fur ball. When it heard the boy, it retreated into the bush. The fearful mouse eyed him through the leaves. The child remained determined to befriend it. "I don't see too many animals out here. What brings you here?" the boy kneeled. He felt convinced he would get an answer by staring into its eyes. All the mouse wished was for the boy to leave so it could enjoy its meal in peace, but the human was stubborn. "You're shy. I get it. Me too," the child sighed. His eyes noticed berries hanging from the bush. "I know." He plucked as many as possible from the bush to lay them on the grass. "Have some. That's what you came for, right?" He used his fingers to roll the berries closer to the thicket. The fruity delicacies enticed the mouse to creep out. It sniffed the delight until it noticed the boy stretch his hand out and skittered back into the bush. "No need to be afraid. I'd just like to be friends," the boy insisted. His persistence had him pile berries for the critter. "Breakfast is served," he winked. Driven by instinct, the mouse emerged again to sniff the berries. It reached for one to nibble on. "There you go," the child saw progress. The mouse nibbled on one berry, then another, and then another. His companion crossed his arms. "You love to eat like I do." He ignored the hungry mouse until there were no more berries. His rodent friend looked around. "There's more where that came from," the eager child plucked more berries. He held them out in his palm. Lured by their sweetness, the mouse climbed on the boy's hand to continue eating. It failed to realize that he was in the boy's care now. He smiled. "I've got you."

Suddenly, the sound of gunfire echoed through the meadow. The mouse's ears perked up. "You heard that too?" the child looked in the distance. He felt his stomach drop. "The town." He put the mouse in his sweater pocket and ran. With no chance of escape, the woodland mouse came along. It looked up at the boy. His warmth replaced by worry.

The boy broke a sweat on that sweltering, humid morning. He felt his heart beat in sync with his anxious footsteps. In that side of the country, gunfire only meant one thing. The war had found them. He rubbed away the sweat that hung on his eyebrows and forehead. When he arrived at the town's entrance, he discovered his fears realized. "No," the boy muttered while running through a village in despair. He ran past a man trying to stop the bleeding in his arm with his headband. There were volunteers carrying corpses away in stretchers. The blood of the victims seeped through the linen sheets hiding them. "Take any wounded to the doctor. Hurry!" a man instructed. The child saw them carry bodies into the rundown, wood-rotting building they called the clinic. Their fates appeared sealed.

He picked up his pace until he saw a familiar face sitting on the porch of his home. He was the only other child in town. The anxious boy stopped to approach him with his forest friend. He saw the disbelief in his eyes as he fought back tears and his hands trembled. "Blue," the boy neared him. The brunette looked up at him. He didn't say a word, but there was pain in his gaze. "When did they come?" the boy asked.

Blue resisted the knot in his throat. "As soon as the sun rose." He clenched his teeth when he looked down.

The boy lowered his head. "Where's your grandpa?"

"Treating the wounded while he bleeds out," the brunette stood up. His fists trembled. "What good is a doctor if they can't even save themselves?"

"Don't say that," the child argued.

Blue nodded sideways, "If only we'd been stronger." The distraught brunette noticed the mouse poking out of the child's pocket. It poked its head to sniff the air. It smelled of death and berries. Then Blue felt the child's hand on his shoulder.

"We can be," the boy mustered hope.

Blue moved his hand away. He stripped him of his blissful ignorance, "It's too late." He turned his back on his friend and walked back to his home.

He left the boy confused, "What? Why?"

"Go home," Blue looked back when he closed the door on him.

The child's patience wore thin. "Tell me!" he shook like a leaf. He never received an answer. He refocused when he heard his rodent's squeak. The child frowned, "Come on."

He continued his run without any more thoughts or stops. He ran until he reached the last house at the other edge of town. It was their house. At a breakneck pace, he slammed the door open to find his grandma and sister. His grandmother kneeled beside the futon, but the blood on their hands stood out to him. "Honey," his grandma whimpered.

"Mom. Dad," her grandson's face turned pale when he saw where the blood came from.

"Brother, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!" his sister ran to him. His mouse scampered out of his pocket before his sister embraced him. Her younger brother froze from shock when she wrapped her arms around him.

Delia wept over her pride and joy. His torso and that of his wife bled until the blood seeped into the crevices of the wooden floor. "Ash, May," the grandmother spoke to them even though they were gone. The only silver lining was the peace in their faces. They'd done everything they could. "I couldn't protect you," Delia regretted.

"Sapphire," the brother wrapped his arms around her when he felt her tears fall on his head. He saw his hands also stained by the blood on his sister's shirt. It was his parents' blood. Red never forgot that it was the color of his eyes.