It’s cold. Black. Why can’t I see? Where is the light?

The darkness threw Kris for a moment, his head stinging, and sharp needle-like stabs of pain coursed through his leg. He could feel the wound pulsing numbly. It brought his sluggish mind to life, awakening his hearing and he became more alert to the whispers of noise, telling him where he felt himself laying pressed into a cold, damp surface. There was the sound of dripping water on muted ground. Wet and dampness; he could smell it in the stagnant air and felt it seeping into his shirt. Desperately, he clenched his hands, a crisp carpet crackled beneath his palm. Leaves. He was in the forest. He could smell the upturned earth he had stumbled upon. He willed his lungs to expand and tried to inhale a breath but it got caught. His throat was constricting and tight, his muscles strained and tense. He could feel the remains of adrenaline trickling through his veins as his heart was hammering. The flood of memories was something he wasn’t expecting.

Screaming. Blood. Pain.

They killed them. They killed my family. Why?

Lights glinting from crimson stained swords as they buried themselves into his parents, their screams of pain burnt like arson into his mind. Everything was red. He ran. He left what he knew he should’ve protected and ran.

 It was then he felt his throat close up and stomach roll. He vomited, the stench something unnatural and out-of-place in his surroundings. He lay quietly for a moment, only managing the energy to bring up a hand wipe the dribbles of vomit from his lips before noticing.

Noise. What was that? Footsteps? No, it was too heavy for that. The bushes.

Something was watching him. Heavy breathing from something not human. He could hear it sigh loudly, its lungs large and he could feel its whole body shift slightly. His instincts were screaming at him to move, but he couldn’t find his body anymore. It stood silent for what seemed like an eternity before something moved and came closer. Warm, damp breath tickled its way over the bare skin of his leg as he could hear it move closer and grumble deeply. It vibrated through the sodden earth. Something rough and slimy wiped over his left leg, the feeling returning to his calf immediately, returning his leg to normal, without any pain. He vaguely noted how his breath was shaking. What was this thing?

Gulping, Kris was finally able to make his eyes open just in time to wish he hadn’t.

A large, golden iris stared back at him, a shimmering shade of red and gold, glimmering like wisps of fire. It was so beautiful, so deep and mysterious. Magical. It was like looking at the sun without being blinded, and it was a stark colour in this moment of darkness. It was an eye that could only ever belong to a Dragon.

His throat pained as he screamed.

FIVE YEARS LATER

"I'm going to die, aren't I?" Sehun asked.

Taeyong glanced at Sehun with glassy eyes, and inspected him. The older veteran sported what seemed to be his own version of a beard and and painfully slow growing moustache, but his black hair was cropped short and was slowly beginning to fade to grey somewhat.

I'm going to die, Sehun thought, grasping his spear with slick sweaty palms. I'm going to die. Oh, Aramenthia, I'm going to die...

"How old are you, son?" the veteran asked. Sehun rocked back onto his heels. It was hard remembering anything as insignificant as his age while watching that other army form lines on the opposite side of the plain. That lining up seemed so civil. Neat, organized. Shortspears in the front ranks, longspears and javelins next, archers behind and at the sides. They wore similar equipment like Sehun's: leather jerkin and rough trouser pants with a simple steel cap and matching plate. Many of the generals had full suits of armor. That sat astride horses, their honour guards clustering around them with plates that gleamed a silver black colour.

It's really happening, he thought with mounting terror. This wasn't a drill in the camp. This wasn't training out in the fields, swinging sticks. This was real. Facing that fact - heart pounding like a frightened animal in his chest, his legs unsteady-Sehun suddenly realized that he was a coward. He shouldn't have left the village! He should have-

"Son?" Taeyong said, voice firm. "How old are you?"

"Eighteen, sir."

"And what's your name?"

"Sehun, sir."

The mountainous, bearded man nodded. "I'm Taeyong."

"Taeyong," Sehun repeated, still staring out at the other army. There was so many of them! Thousands. "I'm going to die, aren't I?"

"No." Taeyong had a gruff voice, but somehow that was comforting. "You're going to be just fine. Keep your head on straight. Stay with the squad."

"But I've barely had three months' training!" He swore he could hear faint clangs from the enemy's armor or sheilds."I can barely hold this spear! Aramenthia, I'm dead. I can't--"

"Son," Taeyong interrupted, soft but firm. He raised a hand and placed it on Sehun's shoulder. The rim of Taeyong's shield reflected the light from where it hung on his back. "You are going to be fine."

"How can you know?" It came out as a plea.

"Because, lad. You're in Kai's squad." The other soldiers nearby nodded in agreement.

Behind them, waves and waves of soldiers were lining up - thousands of them. Sehun was right at the front, with Kai's squad of about thirty other men. Why had Sehun been moved to a new squad at the last moment? It had something to do with camp politics.

Why was this squad at the very front, where casualties were bound to be the greatest? In a moment of sheer panic, he neary dropped his spear and scrambled away. Taeyong's hand tightened on his shoulder. The enemy army was almost finished. The expansive plain between the two forces was almost bare flat skidrock, remarkabley even and smooth, hinting at a history of many battles. The warm wind blew in Sehun's face, thick with the watery scents of last night's storm.

"Taeyong!" a voice called.

A man walked up through the ranks, carrying a shortspear that had two leather knife sheaths strapped to the haft. The newcomer was young too - perhaps a month or two older than Sehun - and only a couple of inches taller. He wore the common leathers of a spearman, and his black hair was fluffy and neglectedly messy, his eyes dark brown. He also had knots of white cord on the shoulders of his jerkin, marking him as a squadleader.

The thirty men around Sehun snapped to attention, raising their spears in salute. This is Kai, our squadleader? Sehun thought incredulously. This youth?

"Taeyong, we're soon going to have a new recruit," Kai said. He had a strong voice. "I need you to ..." He trailed off as he noticed Sehun.

"He found his way here just a few minutes ago, sir," Taeyong said with a smile. "I've been getting him ready."

"Well done," Kai said. "I paid good money to get him away from Jiyong. That man's so incompetent he might as well be fighting for the Exodius."

What? Sehun thought. Why would anyone pay to get me?

"What do you think about the field?" Kai asked. Several of the other spearmen nearby raised their hands to shade from the sun, scanning the dips and raises in the land.

"That dip next to the two boulders on the far right?" Taeyong asked.

Kai shook his head. "Footing's too rough."

"Perhaps it is. What about the short hill over there? Far enough to avoid the first fall, close enough to not get too far ahead."

Kai nodded, though Sehun couldn't see what they were looking at. "Looks good."

"The rest of you hear that?" Taeyong shouted.

The men raised their spears high.

"Keep an eye on the new boy, Taeyong," Kai said. "He won't know the signs."

"Of course," Taeyong said, smiling. Smiling! How could the man smile? The enemy army was blowing horns. Did that mean they were ready?

"Stay firm," Kai said, then trotted down the front line to talk to the next squadleader over. Behind Sehun and the others, the dozens of ranks were still growing. The archers on the sides prepared to fire.

"Don't worry son," Taeyong said. "We'll be fine. Squadleader Kai is lucky."

The soldier on the other side of Sehun nodded. He was a lanky red-haired Nerfeldian, with darker tanned skin. "That's right. Kai, he's blessed, right sure he is. We only lost... what, one man last battle?"

"But someone did die." Sehun said.

Taeyong shrugged. "People always die. Our squad loses the fewest. You'll see."

Kai finished conferring with the other squadleader, then jogged back to his team. Though he carried a shortspear- meant to be weilded one-handed with a shield in the other hand - his was a hand longer than those held by the other men.

"At the ready, men!" Taeyong called. Unlike the other squadleaders, Kai didn't fall into rank, but stood out in front of his squad. The men around Sehun shuffled, excited. The sounds were repeated through the vast army, the stillness giving way before eagerness. Hundreds of feet shuffling, shields slapping, clasps clanking. Kai remained motionless, staring down the other army. "Steady, men," he said without turning.

Behind, an officer passed on horseback. "Be ready to fight! I want their blood, men. Fight and kill!"

"Steady," Kai said again, after the man had passed.

"Be ready to run," Taeyong said to Sehun.

"Run? But we've been trained to march in formation! To stay in our line!"

"Sure," Taeyong said. "But most of the men don't have much more training than you." Taeyong nodded down the line. "Most here will break and charge; the officers aren't good enough commanders to keep them in formation. So stay with us and run."

"Should I have my shield out?" Around Kai's team, the other ranks were unhooking their shields. But Kai's squad left their shields on their backs.

Before Taeyong could answer, a horn blew from behind.

"Go!" Taeyong said.

Everything became a blur of noise and movement, and Sehun didn't have much choice.