Dear Mother,
Love from the solded soul of a warrior. Life within the warrior has turned against us, holding the line and seeing the cracked sky make us scream unheard screams, like where flames burn to the soul of the dead. On the land of Pur, the Empire of Jenithesya has taken over the fields where our people used to farm. The sun's rays are blocked by the influence of clouds, while King Marses of Altira—the immortal, or mortals holding the spear—has deployed the battalion towards the east of Altira. I am..."
"Hey moron, what are you doing?" a voice called his name in the trench of cold mud, holding the silver-shackled armor.
"Man, we are in a hell of war; what are you thinking?" As Akeron looked at him, he saw the face of a person covered by a metal mask glued to his soul in hell.
"Just telling my parents that I am still alive," Akeron replied with a chuckle, forwarding his hand towards his friend as a bond of inseparability. The sky was torn open by the light of a sun which had collapsed by the mere weight of its own, as clouds of sadness took over the remaining rays that fell on the land of heaven disguised as hell. While the soil was dry, still the water filled the land with the humidity of ashes. Both laughed, saying, "Let the dead in dead form come for us." Both laughed as they were hiding in a stepped field while the flag was raised at the post of Dhwaj, holding the Golden Tree upon it. The smell of gun oil came around while the metal shoes were soaked in blood, as both looked at each other, turning to take a peek at the valley of rivers where the River Surya and Mlkra meet a few kilometers away.
While hiding in the trench, they looked at a horse of silver and purple color that moved into the field like a Yagna to be fulfilled. Akeron whispered, turning his tone to seriousness while holding a roll of tobacco in his hand, "Do you think the Uru will come for us?"
His friend looked at him, the red cloth he wore around his neck clashing while his helmet looked like sun flames rising from the moon, and whispered, "Shit me... it can't happen; Princess Kronos is still recovering from the battle at River Purva." He inhaled a deep breath as the wind blew around his ear, hearing the sound of horse footsteps traveling around the valley with the echoes of their saddle and steel horseshoes.
Akeron looked around and whispered, "Did someone go to the trench of River Mlkra? There should be someone gone, like ten soldiers."
As his friend turned to him, the shackled armor giggled in fear. "I didn't order any soldiers," he said, widening his eyes while sweat ran through his face, knowing the consequences of the mistake. Akeron looked at him, meeting his eyes with a cowardice too great to speak, because cowardice is the second sin, but the first was to not look at the trench, leaving a blind spot in the bright daylight.
Then, suddenly, the horse's voice came as the roar of swords clashing for a thin second of life, as it cut through the flesh of the dead, killing their existence from reality. Akeron screamed, signaling, "Archers!! Horsemen!! Hold up tight, bastards!"
From the front, the Dhwaj bearing a catfish stood against them, while the horses in black and golden covers of leather came running towards the army of Alteran. In the trench, soldiers were ready, holding the tips of bows, leaning on fingers as the strings were extended, while Akeron held his palm upwards. He looked in front as the vines swelled from his hand, playing around the skin with a coldness of a smelted hammer, as the veins in his eyes pulsed blood in them to see the death of their own.
But the horsemen who shared in holding the Dhwaj of the gold fish stood a few hundred meters away, as the soldiers' chuckles from a distance echoed through the valley like the smile of Satan in front of mere souls. Akeron whispered, "This shouldn't be; he is coming."
As every soldier turned to him, the dry land of the trench filled with the water of the piss of soldiers looking dead serious at Akeron, he bit his tongue's tip until it bled, cutting the muscle and taste buds. A sweet, salty taste of blood ran through his mouth. "The Prince bearing the blades, Lord Kronos-Helio, is with this battalion."
The horses of golden leather moved aside as the men came forward with spears, wearing crowns and masks, as the blades of red and silver color hovered around his back—seven blades, one smaller than the other. His arm had scratches over it, and his dark armor featured red cracks symbolizing the wounds he carried with the glory of Uru. The Prince Kronos-Helio.
Kronos looked at the trench, turning his neck a little as he calculated the rays felt by the dead sun on the land, counting the grains as he raised his hand, opening his palm as a symbol for his men to move backwards, cutting the air around himself. The men on horses looked at him as they turned for the last time at the trench, pulling the leather leashes of the horses towards the right, eventually turning back for the field left open for the god bearing the taunt.
The sound of the horses turning back felt like relief in the trench, but Akeron looked at the field because Kronos never turned back. He screamed, "Arrows!! Load!!" Inhaling, "Hah... hah... Fire!" He pulled his arm, closing his knuckle tight.
The bows took over the rays of the fading sun as they moved through the air, cutting through it with the scent of blood-dipped tips and the poison of nerves, toward the Prince of Bearing. Kronos's eyes, hidden in the armor, looked at the rain of bows with the smile of his glory and ruin to shine, and whispered, "Souls in heaven disguised as hell don't exist in any realm after death... piss your pants hard."
The blades which hovered around his shoulder moved to the front, turning into a thick umbrella to stand against the rain of merciless, feared bows.
ज्ञानं हि मर्त्यानां बन्धनाय शापः प्रोच्यते यस्य प्रभावतः शस्त्रधारापि मदोन्मत्ताक्षरेण तीक्ष्णा भूत्वा मांसं स्नायुं च भित्त्वा सौन्दर्येण रक्तं दूषयति वेदनायाः प्रलोभनाय च यशसा देहेन च विहीनं ज्ञानं तु केवलं विस्मृतमानवदोषादुत्थिता सा चिन्ता या दिव्यतायामनन्ततायां च देवदूतस्य विश्वासेन क्षयं गच्छति द्वेषहीनं प्रेम तु केवलं सात्मघातिनी वेदना या स्वकीये ज्वालायामेव विलीयते तथा च तादृशी सृष्टिः कोहिनूरमणिमस्तके कुण्ठितशस्त्रमिव व्यर्था भवति॥
((Knowledge is a curse to bind mortals. Even the edge of blade is sharp with the malicious alphabet; it can cut through muscle and nerves, infecting the blood with beauty to seduce the pain. Knowledge without glory and body is nothing but a thought raised by forgotten flaws of human to be reduced by belief of angel on divinity and eternity. Love without hatred is just an agony to dissolve in the flames of its own, and creation is called a blunt blade over Kohinoor.))
The eyes fadedly opened, the eyes of death meeting the flames as the whipping of men could be heard, while the weeping of women ran through the air, cutting like a razor. Akeron tried to scream with the voice of the weeping men, but then something cut through his lower arm while his cuts filled the other bodies' spines, trapped over each other. Eyeballs moved around the area, seeing the legs of a woman as she was crying. He whispered, "Weeping women... what the hell?" Inhaling, he moved his arms as tendons over the bone stripped by the pain. He screamed as the woman who cried stopped and looked at his body, frantically screaming, "Alive... alive in hell. Help!!"
The screams were heard by the Maiden who was called by the soldiers to cry for the dead, because that is how you fill your stomach in heaven disguised as hell.
Soldiers ran to save Akeron, their steps bleeding from metal boots into a marshy land mixed with the stench of blood, turning the air to pure iron. They saw the fallen, alive soldier in a big pile of dead bodies stacked over each other as oil was dripped over them to turn them into ashes. Both the soldiers looked at each other as Akeron forwarded his hand, screaming, "Please... help me!" He grunted as a spine and a piece of metal blade pierced his armor, unable to embed. The soldiers held his hand, gripping it tight, and whispered in the rhythm of their tongue, "One... Two... three. EEHHHH!" They pulled with force to bring a soul out of the purification of mukti and back to the burden of responsibility.
Akeron's legs were clutched within the bodies of the existers, wielding their blades while he was pulled. Akeron gave his best, pushing against the bodies and holding his breath as veins appeared around his neck, clutching the blood around them. He screamed for the last time, moving his legs and stomping, "Lead me towards freedom!" as the soldiers pulled him. His chest hit the ground while his armor of shackles tackled the red soil, while the rays of the burden sun fell on it, screaming with feathers of lightning to stand again.
Akeron turned onto his back, still lying on the ground, kissing the land where his wandering soul lay in heaven disguised as hell. A mountain of dead men stood, blood mixed with gun oil and crude oil, turning into roaring flames. The soldiers looked at Akeron, at his scarf, and whispered, "To stand within the exister is a glory to be honored." Akeron didn't turn, gripping his knuckles until they turned white, hidden beneath a piece of dented armor. "We can't defeat the empire... of Jenithesya," he rasped. "Why, my lord... why?" Tears ran through his face.
सिंहनेतृत्वाधीन-मेषशतसेनया एव नराः भीताः भवन्ति न तु मेषनेतृत्वाधीन-सिंहशतसेनया। यतः नेतृत्वं जानाति कथं स्थातव्यं कथं च अन्ये स्थापयितव्याः। यत्र मनोविज्ञानं मानवो वा शीर्यते तत्र देवः तिष्ठति, यदा च देवाः शीर्यन्ते तदा सः सिंहः स्वमहिम्ना सह उत्तिष्ठति॥ किरीटं सत्तां आनयति, विश्वासघातः वेदनां जनयति, किन्तु प्रज्ञापूर्णं मनः केवलं विजयस्य तं शापं आनयति यत्र पराजयः दूरे भवति। विषं मृत्युं आनयति, आशीर्वादः च भाग्यं ददाति, किन्तु नेतृत्वं तादृशान् विजयान् आनयति ye अकाट्याः भवन्ति॥ शत्रुः पराजयं आनयतु, मित्राणि विजयं आनयन्तु, किन्तु मित्ररूपधारी शत्रुः केवलं विनाशं आनयितुं शक्नोति—तथा च वास्तविकः शत्रुः सः कातरभावः यः स्वजनानां रक्षणाय स्थातुं न ददाति॥
((Men are not scared of an army of a hundred lions led by a sheep, but men are scared of an army of a hundred sheep led by a lion. Because the leadership knows how to stand, and how to make others stand. Where psychology or a person crumbles, the god stands; and when gods crumble, that lion stands with his own glory. A crown can bring power, betrayal can bring agony, but a mind of wisdom can bring only the curse to win while defeat is far. Poison can bring death and a blessing can bring luck, but leadership brings wins which are undeniable. An enemy can bring defeat, allies can bring a win, but an enemy disguised as an ally can only bring destruction—and the true enemy is cowardice, the failure to stand for your people.))
"I want Kronos to lead the Uru army from the west of Mouttu." Inhaling a deep breath, a breeze of coldness flowed through the room. Sets of seven blades were divided across a driven map, while every seat between them stood in water upon white graphite tiles, giving a calm breeze. Yet, the words weren't calm; they held absolute destruction, spoken by the King of the Empire of Jenithesya: Lord Pilgrims.
His eyes looked at every King—the five supreme, each one sat on a designated throne of red cushions at their respective place of kingdom. "There stood eight kingdoms, but we are the ones who stand for the bridge of the soul—the almighty five kingdoms," he roared. But nobody dared to speak, because the pool surrounding the seating had turned red, symbolizing a death given for the flow of scent through the palace. The crown with a red cross in the middle, surrounded by gold, stood upon his head, glowing in the dim sunlight.
Outside, upon a tree, a hawk stood smiling. She whispered with a smile on her face as she turned her gaze towards the east, looking in that direction, giving to the wind her low, growling, soft voice:
सूर्यो जीवन्मृत्य्वोः भूमेः पतिष्यति, सः च नरकरूपधारिस्वर्गभूमौ गमिष्यति—यत्र सः जीवकुलं ज्वालाः च धारयति सर्वं दग्धुम्, विस्मृतं सर्वशक्तिमं सिंहासनच्युतं इन्द्रासुरनामानं राजानं वशीकर्तुं च। यदा ताः ज्वालाः विद्युतः च सुवर्णयुगम् आनेतुं युद्धानां दासतायाः च भवतः राजनीतेः सकाशात् जीविष्यन्ति, तदा तत्र अन्धकारः प्रसरितुं न शक्शियति॥ सः सूर्यः यः भग्नः वर्तते, तेन अवश्यं स्थातव्यम्; यतः द्वयोः सूर्ययोः सा भविष्यवाणी कथयति यत् जीवन्मृत्य्वोः भूमौ यः सूर्यः भग्नः अस्ति सः तत्रैव स्थास्यति, किन्तु उपरिस्थः सूर्यः सर्वं रक्षितुं युद्धानां आगामिचक्राय च शान्तिं स्थापयितुं अधः पतिष्यति॥
((The sun will fall from the land of the living and death, and it will fall into the land of heaven disguised as hell—holding a folk of the living and flames to burn things out, and to tame the forgotten, almighty, dethroned king, Indrasur. While those flames and lightning must survive your politics of war and slavery to bring the Yuga of Gold, the darkness will not gloom there. The sun, which is cracked, must sustain; because the prophecy of the two suns declares that the one in the land of the living and death, which is broken, will stay, but the upper sun will fall to save all things and form a peace for the future cycles of war.))