the darkness lurks in the depths of my broken heart
he stalked the fields, the empty plains of war. devoid of life and stained red with the blood of the strong. he walks among friend and foe alike, struck down in their prime. they lie there, bodies broken by the endless fury of war, shields splintered, swords snapped, and armor riven by the tides of war. the plain, once a beautiful grassland, is now knee deep red mud. here and there the living groan, but one by one the sounds cease. there will be none to save them. the battle front has moved on. then, he sees a lone standing figure. it is his son, the prince. he stands alone, leaning against the flag. his honor gaurd has fallen around him, and he is wounded. the king rushes to his side, and joyously grabs his sons shoulders,
only to realize his son is dead.
his eyes burn, his armor glows. his anger finally boils over. he is the lord of fire, and now none living can stop him. he roars, a roar of pain and hatred, inhuman in its intensity. he no longer walks, he runs, he sprints, to the army far away. they will die, or he will die fighting them.
15 miles away, the men hear a faint sound. a commander looks to the south, and sees a great fire, the plains of death behind them are ablaze. he orders his 58000 men to dig in and be ready to form a shield wall. they lie in wait for the king to attack.
3 months later, a single man returns to his home.
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The Inhibitor
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