"The sky was a sea of spilled ink."

It tore at the edge of the Lekki soldiers' vision, ripping them of their sanity as they ran towards the Mutare soldiers. They ran with their swords raised, their eyes filled with pain, and their cries like a chorus of the undead, ripping through the thick silence that had filled the air, choking any who lived in it. 

Their footsteps echoed across the soft, pine needle ridden forest floor, like thunder rumbling in the great sky and there was bloodlust in each Lekki's heart, a determined vengeance to take back what had been stolen from them in burning in each pair of the Lekki soldier's eyes.

The Lekki commander was a tall, well-built man, with dark hair fading into gray, that was just another shadow in this already dark and cold world. He had a shaggy beard with sharp eyes that scanned the chaos as he barked orders he to his soldiers in a gruff voice. 

He wore a simple suit of armor, with a sun engraved on his chest plate, yet he stood with confidence and strength, which was what set him out compared to his fellow soldiers. He gripped a long steel sword in his hands, that was coated with Mutare blood. It was thick, pitch black, and sticky like honey. It clung to anything it touched, staining it forever.

The Mutare moved like a pack of wolves, their dark armor reflecting their hearts. The creatures of the night moved quickly, quicker than any Lekki, their bodies surprisingly nimble for their large sizes. When they did strike, they struck hard and quick, always going for the kill. 

They were creatures incapable of mercy, so they deserved none for themselves. That was the first thing new soldiers learned, and it was beaten into their minds so they would never be able to forget it. If one spared a Mutare it was likely that same creature would hunt you down and you'd be the one in need of mercy. Yet none would be given.

A Mutare rushed the commander, yet the large man didn't even have to blink before running his blade through the creature's flesh. "You'll never win," the creature growled, before the Lekki commander removed his blade from the creature's body, and the corpse fell to the ground, its flesh burning away from its bones. 

The Mutare's bodies decomposed at a rapid speed, and it wasn't long before the creature was nothing more than a pile of ash. The commander just simply wove his way through the battlefield, every so often barking orders at those around him. This wasn't going according to plan. They were losing.

The commander knew that this was a suicide mission as soon as he had received his orders from the general. Yet he knew better to question direct orders. They would need a miracle if they wanted to pull this off. And perhaps a miracle they received. 

Even over the chaos on the battlefield, the sound of a horse's whinny was still heard. It was as if a bell had been sounded, echoing through the clearing, where both Lekki and Mutare lay dying, causing both sides of the battle to stop and stare, as flames crawled up of the sides of trees in a way that could only mean a god had arrived.

The commander saw the god, simply standing, as every eye turned to him. He was wearing a smirk as if he knew just where he belonged. To his sides, two figures stood. One stood with confidence and grace, the hood of its cloak hiding its face, and if it wasn't for its small size, the commander might have guessed it was a Mutare, with how at ease it was in the face of battle. 

The other stood with something of a mixture of determination and pride, the faintest of smiles on her lips as she looked down upon the fighting Mutare, her blood red dress blowing behind her in the wind, her honey-colored hair floating down her back.

The commander stood in shock, as he stared at the unusual trio who had entered the battlefield as the fighting slowly died out, as both Mutare and Lekki soldiers saw the god. Some of the Lekki soldiers fell to the ground with tears in their eyes, thinking they were saved, while the Mutare soldiers gritted their teeth, narrowed their eyes and prepared for the fight that might cost them their lives. 

Each side waited for the god to do or say something. Something that would give them a sign of what to do next. But with each passing moment, fear blossomed in the hearts of the Mutare, knowing they were going to die.

"Mutare soldiers, retreat!" It was a the Mutare commander who barked the order, the fear in his eyes just as apparent as it was in all of the others. As soon as the order was given, the Mutare soldiers slunk back into the shadows to lick their wounds and prepare for their next fight. 

One they would need to win if they ever hoped to redeem themselves. The Lekki soldiers gave a loud cheer, knowing that they had been victorious in a battle many had believed to be their last. Yet the Lekki commander did not smile. They might have won the battle, but how were they ever to win the war?

They wouldn't. Not without the help of the gods, that is.

The commander moved across the battlefield to greet the God of the Flames, his face still frozen in a scowl. "Greetings, Fire God," the Lekki commander said, his voice gruff as he gave a stiff bow to the man before him. "I was not aware that you would be assisting us on this mission," he said, keeping his tone firm. "You have my thanks for that."

"It was my pleasure," the god responded, his smirk only growing. "I didn't really do anything, but it still sent the Mutare running," he said, and the Lekki commander was certain he heard the cloaked figure make a slight tsking sound. If the god heard it, he chose to ignore it, for he just went right on speaking. "Is there anything else we can help you with?"

"Well..." the commander trailed off, his eyes flashing away, feeling foolish to ask a god for something more. "They didn't send any healers with us to held tend to the wounded, and I fear that they will all die without proper care," he said. "I am sorry for asking this of you, but is there anyone in your company who knows how to heal?" he asked.

His eyes flashing to the girl with honey-colored hair. 

"We would very much appreciate it if you did," he said, this time asking the girl more directly. Her eyes widened, and her cheeks tinted pink from being spoken to directly by a commander.

"I apologize, but I don't have the slightest idea about how to heal," she said, with a sheepish grin. Both the commander's eyes and heart fell at her words before he turned to the cloaked figure, whom he could not tell if it was male or female.

"I'm not so certain you'd like that," the voice behind the hood said. It was male, that much was clear but a strange accent laced his words. One that sounded eerily like the ones the Mutare bore.

"You know how to heal?" the god asked, looking at his companion, his expression a mixture of shock and disbelief. "Like with herbs and bandages?" he asked.

"No, not technically," the cloaked figure said and the commander's heart fell once more. His wounded were definitely going to die now. There was going to be nothing that he would be able to do about it either. "But healing magic is easy enough for me to use," the cloaked figure stated.

A small tremble of fear and hope shot up the commander's spine as he turned to look at the figure with wide eyes. 

"If you want me to heal your injured I can, so long as you don't have a problem with my methods," he stated, his tone cold as if he truly didn't care if the men lived or died.

"Save my men," the commander said. "I don't care what type of power you have to use, just save my men," he declared.

"Okay," the cloaked figure said. "But remember this is what you asked for."

"Wait," the god snapped, cutting the cloaked figure. "I'm not so certain if this is your greatest idea," he warned. "Magic is forbidden, so I'm not so sure how the other soldiers will react to you using it on their comrades. I mean-"

"Magic is forbidden for Lekkis in Amaryllis," the cloaked figure snapped. "We are not in Amaryllis and I am no Lekki," he hissed. "But if you don't want me to heal the Lekki soldiers, then I am going to heal the Mutare ones," he said, before storming down the hill, with both the commander and the god looking at him.

"Make sure he doesn't kill anyone, Honey," the god said, and the girl with honey-colored hair nodded before dashing after the cloaked creature, leaving the god and the commander alone. "Mutare are children, wouldn't you agree commander?" the god asked. "I feel like instead of getting a familiar I got a younger brother I never wanted."

"The creature under the hood is a Mutare?" the commander asked, his face paling as he spoke the words. "Are you certain that you can trust it?" he asked.

"He's my familiar," the god stated. "Do you know what a familiar is, commander?" the god asked, and the commander shook his head. He had never heard the term before. "A familiar is a Mutare who serves a god. Their loyalties belong to the god they serve, and that god alone," the Fire God said. "I almost pity them," he said.

"I'm sorry, but I don't follow," the commander said.

The Fire God let out a slight laugh. "I don't expect you to."

A U T H O R ' S   N O T E

I'm so tired

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Until next time my dudes!