We were never promised a glorious battle nor death worthy of remembrance.
All we understood was that if we did not fight our hardest, the dark king would slay our loved ones, and ravage our lands.
The Dark King’s minions were summoned from the blackest depths of earth, where no men wander.
Vicious and vile to the core, their only weakness was the blaze of holy fire.
As a senior mage of our kingdom, the responsibility of supporting our troops had been shifted to my shoulders.
I wasn’t the type to shun responsibility, besides I loved playing with fire…
(Read the sequel here – Flash Fiction: My Scar)
Word Count: 99