A sound like Thunder, and then another, dust around us, blinding us, human voices, suffering voices. Armand died first, not in a blaze of glory but rather in a flash, a flash of light and fire and pain, we couldn’t see it coming, there was a feeling a lot like terror in those present in the field.Marcus fell next, he who once survived Verdun was now annihilated in our time of Tyrants.
There was a great battle above us with planes and birds far away.
There was a battle in front of us and we honestly couldn’t make up our minds about our next move and finally...there was a battle inside to withstand the dark terror of our age the best we could.
The chilling sounds of the machine grew stronger and there was little time left to think, to accept, to move.
The battle does not wait, we at least remained flesh and bones in the right way.
Perhaps it was the doom for some of us to enter that state of pain and light and fire but not yet, and that was at the moment the only thing that mattered.
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