The sun set upon the bloody battlefield as the soldiers began their homeward return, battered and broken, but victorious.
The victors would call it a glorious battle, while the defeated would never speak about it, for they were all dead.
Everyone had fallen, the archers, the pikemen, the knights, even the Black King himself, all had embraced the insensitivity of death.
The battle had begun with the now-victors cowering under the blazes spewed by the great dragon, mount of the Black King.
It was only a lucky bolt that pierced through the dragon’s scales, punctured its heart and brought the dragon crashing down into the sea.
As the sun falls from the sky, the dragon’s body sinks further into the depths of water, soon to be forgotten, unlike the horrors of war…
Word Count: 130