Finish the Story Contest - WEEK #20 - Acceptance of death

Hey, I'm doing this awesome contest again. Thank you all for reading my previous one. It's a Finish the Story Contest - WEEK #20 by f3nix

Black Star

And finally dawn came, mercilessly, to reveal the blasphemous massacre of that night. The sulphur smell of the Flaegreian fields was mixed with that of the blood and entrails, while clots of death, horribly coagulated one with the other, slowly melted inside the iridescent pools of acid water. There was no honour of weapons for the vanquished, whose remains were hideously smeared on the battlefield.
Instead, something else was crawling in that silent scene: the unnatural profanity of a rape, far beyond the concept of victory of one army over the other. It was as if the ground, pierced by fumaroles and teeming with mutilated bodies, wanted to shout to the sky a silent cry of faltering horror.
From the piles of corrupt meat, a black pillar emerged in the middle of the plain. An invisible and incandescent flame was emanating from that dark mountain, making the landscape all around tremulous due to the intense heat.

"I brought you some wine, Xarag." The man in armour approached cautiously to the black and immobile human tower.

"I do not find it right that you have to stay still for all this time instead of celebrating ..".

"Tell me you did not come alone just with that nauseating spicy wine." Glaring through the black metal of the helmet, the paladin abruptly interrupted the officer.

"I also have the serum, Xarag. Our queen never forgets the needs of her most valiant servants"

"Oh yes, she's always so thoughtful". The sudden pain obliged the paladin to an added effort for emitting the last word, which barely came out through the bloody clenched teeth.

"Do not worry, I cannot figure out how much you suffer, Xarag, and I won’t even dare to, but I promise you that also this time, when it has cooled down, we will manage to get you out of the gift".

"The gift, of course, guard of the queen. I know you'll do a good job with that piece of meat that still sticks to my bones," the black tower murmured in a metal hiss. "Now pour the whey into the wine and then leave me. You, at least, go and celebrate."

Xarag, the Black Star, barely approached the chalice at the deformed hole of the helmet and drank avidly. His meats, slowly devoured by his own armour, produced sounds that he would never get used to. He wanted to look up from that vision of death, he wanted to look for a star in the sky, among the poisonous and sulphur fumes, but the steel colour of the abyss no longer allowed it by many battles. He wanted to think to her, if only he didn’t have to bleed for the effort of not being torn apart in his body, mind and soul at the same time. For him, the battle would have still continued in solitude for long hours.

The fires projected cheerful arabesques on the cobalt walls of the camp tents, where the unrestrained bacchanal of victory was taking place. A group of officers argued in the galley tent, away from the crowds.

"I told you they did not fight! The angel approached, and they just looked at each other for a very long time ... at least that's what I saw as long as I could," said the young man with shelled eyes to the rest of the group.

"If only I could fight one of those damned celestials simply by standing by... Maybe even while scratching my balls.” The silly laugh of the inexperienced official interrupted in a strangled sob.

"Listen to me well, piece of dung. Just because you miraculously survived your first battle and you got good marks at the academy, do you think you gained the right to talk about the Black Star?" The veteran's arm had relentlessly triggered at the young man's throat with a ruthless grip.

"First of all, that was not just an angel, but it was one of the Powers, sent into battle directly from the third triad. Have you already forgotten the lessons on the enemy hierarchy, cutie?" The grip loosened just before the colour of the young officer passed from red to dark purple.

"Also," continued the veteran, "you can bet they were fighting, as the Power had managed to overtake the first two auras of Xarag's armour and was now attempting to force the third inner one: the disintegration of the essence."

The senior officer would have continued but was interrupted by a loud disturbing roar. The immediate shock-wave overwhelmed those present and all the contents of the tent. Perhaps the battle was not completely over.

Senior officer was prepared, although he really thought this battle was over. He had a strange feeling that was rubbing in his head. However, he attributed that he was tired of the battle. Now, like many times ago, feeling deep inside him was right. It's starting again.

While he was running to his horse, he heard old voice of his former teacher, back in a days when he was young student on academy, ** General in front of his army will not be general much long after the battle starts. You need to find spot from where you will see, predict and command. Place where you can lead. That's the difference between good and dead officer of general **. With that on his mind he slowed down, and started shouting orders.

At the start, there was two officers above his rank, but, they are both dead now. So he is in charge. A moment to think, to hear a report from scouts. Moment here, moment there and he doesn't have time. Years of service, they never seemed harder than at that moment. He was not afraid of dying, he was afraid he would die before he did his duty. And so much is on the dice.

Rain, hard rain started first time that night, and haven't stopped yet. Black Star is in agony, agony that only he knows about. Something beyond the perception of the human mind. There will not be help from him this time. Also Power will be present again in the Flaegreian fields, maybe harder this time and they don't have any protection from in, only metal armor.

Seeing a Power is noting like hearing about it. It's a vortex of impossible. He heard many stories, people being torn apart, mountains hammered, the villages were destroyed as if they never existed. Miraculous, unthinkable for many, and the privilege for a few of them who possessed a spark to use this power. And now he was in the center of it. Probably he, nor his soldiers will survive this attack. The battle is going to continue, he saw that now. They can't run away, they don't have a place to hide.

He thought that, when this moment arises, his whole life will pass before his eyes (as many say), however, there was, that moment and feeling of the greater weight of his armor. The army was lining up and mending for its task. The task of dying, leaving their families behind, their loved ones. All this can make a man flee, but none of his soldiers looked behind. They were good soldiers. He never thought about it, but he was honored to serve the Empress with them.

Everywhere, they heard the trumpets, and the persistent weird sound of the upcoming bloody performances. The performance for the gods, so they called big battles at the academy. He tried to throw his last glance over his shoulder to the Xarag, hoping he could help. If the serum could help him, but no, he was still in the same place, unable to protect anyone.

He emptied his mind, raising his horse, breaking off at the beginning of the battlefield of his soldiers. He cleared all his hopes, mistakes and fears from his head. Forgetting that voice about how the general should behave, the voice so well engraved in his mind, curled up and led his soldiers. The first one of the equals.

Image 1