Categories > Original > Fantasy > Hope and Failure
Prologue
0 ReviewsWhat motivates us to move forward? Is it hope? Is it love? Then what causes our downfalls? Is it fate? Or is it our humanity? After all, we sow the seeds of our own failures.
Prologue
A blood red sun was slowly sinking toward the horizon. In its slowly diminishing light, a battlefield strewn with mutilated bodies could be seen. Among the corpses, two figures drew inevitably closer to each other. Scarlet stained them from head to toe, almost to the point where one could not be distinguished from the other. The scarlet stains did their best to strip away the remaining humanity, the remaining identity of the two figures, but still their differences were made clear. Where one seemed weighed down by the consequences of choices made, the other seemed to straighten as if an ill-carried burden had finally been relieved. Where one walked with the utmost reluctance and despair, the other walked unfalteringly to meet the inevitable. Slowly, they drew closer, drawn to each other by fate, destiny, love, and all else that binds. They drew closer, and their eyes never stopped in their search for answers, in their desperation and resolve, despair and hope, denial and acceptance.
"Why did you come?"
Silence.
"You knew what would happen, didn't you? Why did you come?"
Silence. It was a question that did not need to be answered aloud.
"I don't want to do this. I don't want to do this! Oh gods, I don't have a choice! What am I suppose to do?"
Silence. Once upon a time, a choice had been given, and a choice had been made.
"It wasn't supposed to end this way. It wasn't supposed to end this way, but what can I do? I can't let you go through with this."
Silence, a sad, beautiful little smile, and then tears.
"I'm sorry."
Behind them, the last rays of the dying sun met the cold steel of a raised blade, as the remaining crimson droplets that clung to it finally slid from its grasp. The blade stopped in its path, poised at the height of its journey. A moment of hesitation, enough for a last glance, a last message, a last plea. Enough for a choking sob and a sigh.
The sword came down, and all that was left was the last broken weeping from a lost and shattered heart.