On the first night, she surveyed the smokey battlefield.
Sitting on the horizon she could make out the faint outline of the enemy stronghold.
The objective from Command was clear. Liberate the fortress within four days.
However, tomorrow was as uncertain as the ominous form in the distance, nevermind day four.
With a determined huff, she dons her helmet and takes up arms.
As she takes her shield, the visage of her fellow cadets reflects off of its brilliant, mirrored surface and catches her eye.
Men she had studied with. Men she had trained with. Men she will shed blood with.
The weight of worry for their creature safety tore at her heart. Be well, my friends.
In lockstep they descend into the chaos awaiting them below, for which they knew survival was not guaranteed.
Steel liberating blood from flesh, the battlefield quickly devolves into an abattoir. The girl sustains a hard blow to the chest.
Gritting her teeth through the haze of pain, she charges forward under heavy shield, clearing a path to a garrison.
The rendezvous point offering respite in a reality overwhelm with obscenity and disorder.


On the second night, she scanned the bloodied battlefield.
Well within reach, the sought after structure simultaneously inspired both dread and hope.
The objective from Command was clear. Liberate the fortress within four days.
Yesterday now seeming as unreal of a prospect as tomorrow, the present became unbearably immediate.
With a hardened countenance, she affixes her pauldrons and takes up arms.
As she takes her shield, the visage of her troops reflects off of its brilliant, mirrored surface and catches her eye.
Savagely they had fought. Savagely they had killed. Savagely they had died.
The weight of duty towards her comrades bore down on her conscience. I will protect you, my brothers.
In lockstep they traversed the fog awaiting them, for which they accepted survival was not guaranteed.
Fire liberating courage from spirit, the scene descends into Abaddon. The girl catches a blade across her eye.
Blind with blood and fury, she charges forward, leading her men into a trench short of the fortress gate.
The blackened Earth offering tenuous shelter from the murderous calculations of the enemy.


On the third night, she studied the unassailable architecture.
A stone’s throw away, the brutish, foreboding citadel threatened to rob her of all morale.
The objective from Command was clear. Liberate the fortress within four days.
Brooding clouds gave backdrop to a lustrous moonrise not meant for her.
With a weary sigh, she dons her tattered cape and takes up arms.
As she takes her shield, the visage of her own blood reflects off of its brilliant, mirrored surface and catches her eye.
Sacrificed was her body. Sacrificed was her will. Sacrificed will be herself.
The weight of excellence demanded from them steeled resolve. Per angusta ad augusta.
In lockstep they ascend from the muddy embankment and towards a grand, fatalistic end.
Accession liberating pneuma from weathered husk, one by one they ascend to Maon. The enemy gates begin to rise.
Senses sharpened with action and purpose, she takes notice and bounds towards the objective.
With one last great expenditure of force, she dives shield-first into the fortress. The entrance clangs shut with resounding finality.


On the fourth morning, she gasps as her consciousness finds her anew; light reclaiming what the dark had stolen.
The objective from Command was clear. Liberate the fortress within four days.
As she takes her shield, her own wretched visage reflects off of its brilliant, mirrored surface and catches her eye.
Surrounding her in every direction was the infinite vastness of nothingness. She was alone.