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  A field of pale yellow grass was flattened by the wind, the brilliant red sun setting the land on fire with its light. The tiny white flowers dotted across the landscape had been trampled by all manner of foot, hoof, and claw as two armies took their places. Soldiers filled newly-dug trenches and formed tight rows in the fields, silent anticipation flooding all of their systems with adrenaline. No one could escape it any more than they could choose to return home.

  Lining the closest patch of trees were the newly trained archers, among which was the young Lightborn, Audin. He silently nocked his bow and drew the string back into ready position, aiming for the front lines. He was nearly resting in the position he'd grown so accustomed to-- invisible and poised for battle-- yet he was unable to set himself at ease. He'd heard all kinds of stories of the war; stories of the greatest glory, and those of even greater pain. Met countless people poisoned by its influence. His heart pounded in some mix of excitement and fear, but he stayed steady. He forced his breaths to deepen as he watched, careful to remain still and silent.

  Anyone looking in could have easily mistaken the scene for a painting, as time seemed to still as much as the armies. The wind was the only thing still moving.

  After an infinity and just an instant, there was a cry across the field, and the battle began.

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