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 It was a struggle to breathe for Ytarina. Her attire clung to her skin, as she was covered in sweat, lethargic from the task. She lay on her back, peering upwards into the fiery inferno of the afternoon sky, and her back soaked from lying on the grass where the water was spilled. “How long do I have to put up with this?” she questioned her decision. “Would it be two weeks, or perhaps years?” In her mind, danced the mere fantasy of her rallying Ithalyan warriors under the banner, and forcing Galia into surrender; it was her version of ideal peace. She wanted to grasp victory for her people; she wanted her father to r

When I Die What flowers would they lay, Upon my casket on that day? Shall it be roses of crimson hue? As this entertainer makes his final bow? Or shall it be thorns to pierce me, Just like I hurt them too? What words would they depart? A whimsical story of a fond memory? Or shall there be tears before they start? Perhaps they may continue to judge, With hushed scandals and a blaming tongue. They’ll give no eulogy; no words to be sung. Why should I care? My time has ceased and expired. Nothing will be seen; flowers nor briar No words will be heard; My eulogy shall come and pass Before I realize I’m resting at last.

It was dawn, and the sun had not yet graced the capital of Ithalya with its light. The frogs still croaked, and the cricket chirps murmured through the dank air. A spell of silence flooded the barracks, only dispelled momentarily by the groans of soldiers in deep sleep. However, a candle burned and hushed whispers sounded with its luminosity. “These are the times we live in, Rammon,” said Felix Garcen; a general who fought alongside Ithalya’s great General Sven. While Felix dreamt and hoped to fight alongside him once more, he had to obey his assigned task: the security of the capital should one of Ithalya’s fronts fa

The memory of this day has been scarred into my mind as time went on. It was a memory that left the anger in its wake, yet I clung to it as a dog to its owner; a slave to its master. In truth, I was nothing but a slave to this memory. The blossom of peas was a useless flower. It held no fragrance, and the hue of its petals was inferior to roses.  It was nothing but a small, yellow and red blossom that was blemished with small dark spots. However, I held the three pea flowers in my hand as I waited patiently, sheltering from the mild raindrops that fell from the clouded sky. The rhythmic drumming of my heart grew louder as students poured int

“Out of the hundred ships on the open sea, the one taking the most isolated route; the one carrying my daughter goes missing!?” roared General Rammon Sven, throwing his helm to the ground. The emissary who delivered the news flinched with fear of being cut down. “What is being done to search for my daughter?” “General, I’m afraid your daughter is of low priority in the search for the Spear of Ithalya,” quickly muttered the emissary. He struggled maintain his salute, as his knees clattered together. General Sven frown deepened, and if looks could kill, this emissary would be dead a thousand times over

 The ocean scintillated as if they were a mat of jewels; diamonds and sapphires which captured the sunlight, but merely holding only enough to sparkle. There a ship sliced through the unforgiving waters, suffering every whip and lash the waves dared to cast. “The very idea of sailing upon these waters is unnerving,” whispered one sailor to another, as they both inspected the durability of the ropes which bound the sails to the mast. “Let alone charging us with the responsibility of a pampered noble!” “Watch your tongue! You know the purpose of our mission,” shouted Captain Viziel with a stern look. &ldquo