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Introductions part oneIntroductions
Uncle had always wanted me to be a soldier. I thought I'd do it for him, he needed something to make him happy. I never knew how good at it I would be. Commander solice, our instructor, says I will make a fine leader one day, I believe him.
About a week ago they separated the trainees into three groups. One group is going to Sumre. They will be magicians from what I can figure. Another group will be staying here; they are the largest of the three. We, the final and smallest group, are all going to a training compound at Highpoint in Alzteirbjan, the capital. The instructors refuse to tell us what we will be doing once we get there. All we know is that we are leaving now.
As the horse drawn cart is pulled down the road Kirrin turns to me "Saren," He shouts over the wind "when do you think we'll get there?" He has brown hair like mine which is blowing into his face. I assume mine is also. But there our similarities end. Kirrin's eyes are blue where as mine are gr
Poetic PsychosisIn thirty seconds, the next shell would fall. Every night was the same, but every night Lorenzo experienced it as if it were the first time. His throat felt swollen; breathing was hard. He glanced around at the others; young men like him who had been shipped out in the name of honour and freedom. There was no honour in this, no freedom. Only death behind your eyelids, and a fear so gutting, that it carved out your innards and left you a hollow husk. Lorenzo tried to breathe, tried to assure himself that he was still whole, still made of flesh. They had lied when they told him he was ready.
Matteo ran towards him, arms out, rifle swinging uselessly at his side. He shouted for him to run, but Lorenzo remained motionless, unable to move as his friend’s warning was lost in the constant blare of gunfire. None of them were ready.
“The cycle is repeating. It is not safe.” The voice was soft and weak, yet it carried over the gunfire and battle cries without impediment.
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