ARKANIA
Watching the sunset, I wondered if I would live another second like every other veteran or if I would be buried like every martyr. But I know one thing: whatever rises after this sunset will decide everything.
I was born in a poor nation known as Arkania. Ten years ago, Arkania was liberated from the communist country of Zaphlis. I spent the first three years of my life in that hell. We Arkanians were a minority. Every day, the town square became a graveyard. Our mothers and sisters were dishonored. Our elders hanged. Anyone who dared to speak against the atrocities was burned alive. And we? We could only watch, crushed like insects beneath their boots.
Every young soul wished they had never been born. No one wanted a family, because in the end, they would only be buried in the soil.
But three years before independence, a revolution rose—something we Arkanians had only dreamed of. But it was real. Michaela Zarkis gathered all the young souls and led a war that would change our present and our future. Through the black market and with the help of his family, he stole enough weapons to ignite the flames of war. The revolution was known as the “Revolution of the Red Crescent.”
The goal was not to overthrow the Zaphlisian government, but to liberate the western region of the country. Small though it was, the land was rich in resources. In the first year, all supply lines leading to future Arkania were cut off, and in the second year, every Zaphlisian was driven out. Soldiers were executed, and the men taken as prisoners. The women and children were allowed to return to Zaphlis. We knew we had won.
Fearing that the war might become uncontrollable, the Great Empire of the Phoenix intervened, and the war was stopped. After lengthy negotiations, we were granted all the land we had fought for, and Arkania was established.
After years of persecution and genocide, we had finally won. We were free.
Michaela became the leader, for he had both the mind to guide and the support of the people. He rose as the pride of the nation, the idol of the young. In the first three years, he laid the foundation for our country’s infrastructure, including hospitals, schools, and universities. The foundations of Arkania stood firm. Children finally received a proper education, and families could dream again.
The neighbouring state of Malfis became our first ally and chief trade partner. Through talks and agreements, even the mighty Phoenix Empire opened its doors to us. We sold them our resources, and in return, we received what every new nation needs most—strength. Arms, ammunition, and the means to forge our own. With trade came factories, training institutes, planes enough to be called an air force, and ships enough to be called a navy.
Zaphlis still loomed like a shadow, a threat we could not ignore. Yet, under the weight of international pressure, they held back their blade. For the first time, we Arkanians breathed without fear.
By the time our country turned four, the world had recognized us. Arkania was no longer a dream. It was a nation. And we, its people, were no longer exiles—we were Arkanians.
