Sparks flew as our blades clashed time and time again. He wasn’t letting up, for he was determined to win this battle. I grunt, knowing that this would be over soon. We’d been fighting for nearly an hour now and the adrenaline was just starting to fade to the point where his movements were slowing down ever so slightly. Raising my arm, I cast a spell to create a ball of light to temporarily disorient my opponent. I manage to do so successfully and hear him yell in surprise, backing several feet away from me. We’re both breathing heavily as we watch each other, trying to anticipate what the other’s next move will be.
“Are you tired yet, hero?” I ask, trying to bait him. “I’d have expected better from a warrior sent by the King.” No answer comes as the man clutches his side in an attempt to stabilize himself. Grinning, I realize he’s wounded and take the chance to rush him. My armored opponent is unprepared and I strike his midsection, my sword pushing through the metal. A strangled sound leaves him as he tries to escape my frenzied attack. “Oh, no, you’re not getting away so easily, boy.” I grab his shoulder and push the sword deeper as magic energy gathers within me. I harness it, sending lightning shooting through my weapon, bringing with it the smell of burning flesh.
My opponent manages to regain some strength and uses the butt of his sword to hit my temple. Stunned, I stumble back and fall to one knee to balance myself. Feeling dizzy, my gaze tries to focus on my rival as I feel my surroundings spinning. Dirtied steel armor catches my eye as it collapses, a loud thudding sound accompanying it. Standing back up, I take careful strides as I approach the fallen man. I can tell that he’s struggling to breathe by the way his chest slowly rises and falls beneath the armor. Scoffing, I kneel on the ground beside him and sheathe my sword. After all, he clearly cannot fight anymore and there’s no reason to rub defeat in his face.
“So,” I start. “Is this how our bitter rivalry ends?”
A pause. “Does it… does it need to be?”
To my surprise, he sounds more broken than I expected. But what really catches me off-guard is that he sounds much younger than I remember. “Damn, you sound like a kid, warrior. Are you going through puberty right now?” I joke, chuckling.
“What if I am? How’s that matter?” My fallen foe says this as he tilts his head to look up at me.
I stare at him incredulously in silence. Sputtering, I try to regain my composure before leaning closer to him. Carefully, I reach towards his head and remove his helmet. A shiver reaches my soul as I find out that he is, in fact, just a teenager. His olive skin has gone pale from the blood loss caused by my attacks, and dark circles have settled themselves under his dull green eyes. Tousled raven curls contrast starkly against the grass beneath him, spreading around his head messily. “W-what the hell is this?! You’re a child! Why the hell are you fighting your nation’s most feared enemy?”
Furrowing his brows, the boy answers, “Because I was chosen to. I was told that it had been prophesied.”
Confusion flooded my mind but it was soon overtaken by rage. I clench my fists, the helmet I had removed lie forgotten at my side. “Are you serious? They sent a child to end a decades-old conflict with a dangerous magic user! What the hell were they thinking? Have all the others been teenagers? Have I killed young people that were sold a lie, that were convinced by a crooked king who knew he was sending them to their deaths?” Questions fly out of my mouth faster than I thought possible. I stop myself, though, when I realize that the boy has tears streaming down his cheeks.
“You mean there was no point?” He asks, voice cracking. “I was sent here to die? Bu-but they said you were pure evil, that I needed to stop you as quickly as possible. That I had to take this role because I was the only one who was s-strong enough. I need to defeat you to save us all.” His voice trails off at the end, as sobs shake his entire body. He suddenly winces, reminding both of us of the life-threatening injuries I inflicted not long ago. Panicking, I try to remove the armor that was around the wounds. Gingerly discarting the armor, its pieces are left nearby as I hold the boy closer to me, cradling him in my arms as I attempt to comfort him. I can tell that this confuses him, as his people believe me to be a wicked soul capable of little more than destruction and misery among innocents. “Why are you showing me kindness, Sorceress?”
Placing my hand on his cheek, I answer. “Believe it or not, I have a heart, hero.”
“Dillon,” The boy interjects. “My name is Dillon.”
“Dillon,” I repeat softly, holding his weakening gaze. “I can try to save you, but I’m not sure it will work.”
Surprisingly, Dillon shakes his head at the suggestion. “No, don’t. After everything, I don’t want to go back home. I can’t go back knowing that I was sent on a suicide mission. Just… please stay. I don’t want to die alone, Sorceress.”
“My name is Mara, Dillon.”
A wobbly smile makes its way onto Dillon’s lips. “Thank you, Mara.”
Before I can answer, Dillon’s eyes close and his neck goes slack, his head thudding against my stomach. I stay quiet as tears escape my eyes and land in his hair. Hugging him tightly, I carefully place Dillon’s body on the grass and stand up. Magical energy surges in the area as ire settles itself on my shoulders like a vulture. He didn’t need to die. I look towards the horizon, where I can barely make out the silhouette of the palace. “Enough is enough, you pathetic scum.” I will avenge Dillon, and all those that disgusting king tricked into an early death. It’s about damn time I put an end to this petty war, anyway.