was the only colour in the white landscape, as deep and beautiful as rose
petals that were now scattered across the pristine snow. An icy breath of wind
blew through branches as dark as the night sky, reaching towards the heavens
like a skeletal hand. The bright blue sky stretching above, dead and vacant
like a lifeless body.
Another bead of red joined its brothers in the snow, staining it red as it melted into its surroundings. Heavy breathing parted the deathly silence as a lone figure stood in the center of the black and white landscape. Shining silver glinted in the bright sunlight, tarnished by the stark red stain that spread across its smooth surface and dripped like water from the person’s metal fingers.
A shanking hand gripped the hilt of a sword, it’s blade skimming the stained snow as the person attempted to regain their wavering grip. The other gripped their bloodied waist as they took a shuddering step in the empty environment. Muscles to exhausted to carry the weight of their master crippled in the simple movement. The figure fell forward in a silent struggle. Knees were driven into the cold snow and a splatter of red decorated the white canvas.
An elegant sword was wedged deeply into the snow. Its graceful golden markings glinted in the bright sunlight. A mighty weapon now used as a crutch. A shuddering breath left the struggling figure as they leant back and tilted their head towards the empty sky. Deep blue eyes lifted to the heavens taking in the sun’s warming rays for a brief moment before they fluttered closed.
A single breeze blew through the empty forest, stirring the chestnut hair that fell lazily out of the figures braid. Pale ivory and navy blue cloth etched with a gold trim, danced in the breeze as the hem of a dress itched in the frosty air. Silver armour lay heavily across the body of a female; a golden sun etching its way across her chest. Pale lips parted as they drew another shuttering breath. The female warrior never moved from her crumpled position. Her grip was tight on her sword as she waited in the lonely forest. Waiting as the sun slowly began to arc across the perilous blue sky.
A dark figure emerged from the shadows of a skeletal tree. A visor covered most of their face and their eyes were cast into shadows. A black cloak swung lazily in front of the figures body covering and protecting them from the cold air. They paused momentarily their body tilted towards the female who knelt within the red snow. Only a moment passed, a breath and a decision passing through the deadly air. Metal feet crunched the snow beneath them, as they took long strides towards the fallen warrior. A sword came into view at the side of the dark figure; their blade dark and unforgiving.
Deep blue eyes flashed open, a spark of determination glinting in their depths. A grunt of pain escaping her lips as she slowly stood up once again. Her bloodied hand left her wound as she gripped her sword with two hands levelling it with the approaching figure. She stood her ground, her will to live surpassing her exhaustion and need to rest. She took a deep breath trying to regain the strength that had already left her. Trying to reach for a power that was already beginning to seep through her grasp like falling sand.
“It is a dark day for you Grace, for today shall be your last day within the sun’s embrace,” the figure said in a deep but familiar voice. His sword levelled with hers with an ease that she did not possess. Gripping her sword tighter she shifted into a fighting position. Her feet shifted in the freezing snow and she saw another drop of blood decorate the landscape.
“The sun’s light shall always be my guide, Alastair. I will not fall against your blade today or any day after,” Grace said evenly. Her deep blue eyes strong and determined as she gazed at the cloaked figure.
“We shall see,” Alistair said with a tone of darkness seeping into his voice. His body crouched into a fighting position and his blade shifted into a more comfortable position. Grace could only watch, as the area around Alistair seemed to darken with each passing second.
Grace only had a moment to prepare herself before Alistair lunged towards her, his blade glowing with a dark aura. Moving to the side she brought her sword up in a quick flourish and parried his dark blade. Golden sparks ignited as the two blades connected for a brief moment before she managed to swat his sword to the side. The two separated for a sparse second before their blades met again. The sound of metal rang out in the silent forest and a golden light sparked every time the two blades connected.
Grace lunged at Alistair her sword held tightly and confidently in her grasp as she engaged her opponent. Her golden sword met his in equal battle and sparks lit in her path as she slid past his blade. She had taken a risk in her advancement, but she knew she would not fail in her endeavour. Grace felt her sword connect and slice between the gaps in his armour and knew that she had finally landed a blow. She twisted away form his arching sword and let distance separate them once again.
Her breaths game in ragged gasps as she attempted to catch her breath. Her hand left her sword as she touched her injured side only to be met with the scarlet colour of her own blood. She didn’t have much time. Her body was failing, her breath was faint, and her mind was hazy. The power she had clung too had finally slipped through her fingers and only a few grains remained. Taking a deep breath she gazed at the sun one last time, feeling the warmth of its ray’s grace her skin one final time.
“I shall not fall. I shall not yield,” Grace said just above a whisper as she took up her sword one final time. Her dark eyes landed on her opponent who was pulsing with anger and looking at the wound he had received between his armour. His metal hands tightened in rage as he picked up his sword and crouched into his familiar fighting stance.
“I am the warrior of the light, and the shield between the darkness that covers this land,” Grace continued in a stronger voice. She brought her sword behind her and eased her body into her own familiar stance. A single moment of silence descended across the forest before the two lunged at each other at a blinding speed.
“My sword is my weapon and the divine light my alley,” Grace chanted as she ran towards her opponent. Her sword came up behind her right shoulder ready to provide the final strike. A bright golden light slowly swirling around her blade with each step she took.
“With the sun as my guide I shall live and die within it’s light,” Grace yelled, her blue eyes blazing with a determined flame. She could not fail today. Even if her day had been darkened and the sun seemed to shine a little less brightly, she still had to continue, she could not leave this world quite yet. Events had taken place that had led her to this moment and she could not let them get the best of her. So with her final wish, she put all her strength, and all her remaining power into this one strike.
With her opponent in range she brought her golden sword in a blinding arc towards the cloaked man, whose own sword pulsed with a dark unnatural light. The two swords met in the middle and a thunderous explosion rang out within the abandoned wasteland. A brilliant light blazed throughout the snowy landscape as the two swords met. A light so brilliant it rivalled that of the blazing sun.