Étienne
The landscape had changed. What was once rolling hills and gentle fields was now a stretch of barren ground, scorched by the fires of countless battles. The scent of smoke lingered in the air, the remnants of a world already in chaos.
We had reached the frontlines. The camp had been hastily set up, and already the preparations for the battle were underway. Soldiers rushed to their positions, eyes sharp with determination and fear. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a sword, and I couldn't help but feel the weight of it pressing on my chest.
There was no turning back now.
I gripped my sword tighter, feeling the familiar weight settle into my palm. This was my weapon, the one I had trained with for so long. But no amount of practice could prepare me for what was coming.
The enemy was close. Their campfires could be seen in the distance, and the sounds of their preparations drifted toward us like a warning. I could hear their voices, low and guttural, but there was something unsettling about it. It wasn't just the sound of an army preparing for war—it was the sound of a beast, ready to strike.
"Stay sharp," Captain Lambert's voice rang out, cutting through the growing silence. "The first strike will come at dawn. We'll be ready."
I nodded, but inside, my heart was pounding. Would we be ready? Would I be ready?
Victoire
I had never seen a battlefield before.
The chaos of it, the noise, the dust, the blood—it was overwhelming. The screams of the wounded and dying echoed in my ears as I made my way through the makeshift camp, my heart pounding in my chest. I had come here to find Étienne, to ensure he made it out alive, but nothing could have prepared me for the brutal reality of war.
Everywhere I looked, soldiers hurried through their tasks, each one trying to ignore the dread that seemed to hang over them like a dark cloud. The fear was palpable.
But I couldn't afford to be afraid. Not now.
I had come to find him, and I wasn't going to stop until I did.
I moved swiftly through the camp, asking everyone I passed if they had seen a soldier by the name of Étienne. Most didn't know, too preoccupied with their own tasks. But some gave me hopeful nods, their eyes filled with sympathy.
No one had seen him.
I couldn't let that stop me.
I had to keep looking.
I couldn't fail him.
Étienne
The first battle was a blur.
We had marched at dawn, our steps heavy with the knowledge of what was to come. The battlefield stretched before us, a vast expanse of dirt and blood, the smell of death already thick in the air. The sounds of war—the clash of metal, the cries of the wounded—filled the air.
The enemy came at us in waves, their formation like a tidal wave crashing against us. Our shields held, our spears met their swords, and for a moment, it felt as though time itself had frozen.
I fought with everything I had, my body moving on instinct, the training taking over. My sword was an extension of myself, each strike a fluid motion, each parry a dance of survival.
But it wasn't enough.
The enemy was relentless, and their numbers were overwhelming. It was as if they had no end, no exhaustion.
I fought, not for glory or for honor, but for survival.
I could hear the sounds of my comrades falling beside me, their cries drowned out by the noise of the battle. I could feel the heat of the blood that soaked the earth beneath my feet, the dirt and sweat mixing with it.
In that moment, I wondered if I would make it out alive.
Would any of us?
Victoire
The camp was chaos.
Soldiers rushed back and forth, tending to the wounded, preparing for the next wave of battle. The air was thick with the acrid scent of blood, sweat, and fear. I could hear the distant sounds of battle, the clash of steel and the cries of men and women fighting for their lives.
I had to find Étienne.
I pushed through the crowd, my heart racing, my hands trembling. I had never felt fear like this, never imagined I would be in a place like this. But the thought of losing him, of never seeing his face again, drove me forward.
"Where is he?" I demanded, my voice cracking.
A soldier looked at me, his face pale, his expression unreadable. "Who?"
"Étienne! His name is Étienne! Have you seen him?"
He paused, his gaze flicking nervously over his shoulder. "I'm not sure. You should leave. It's not safe here."
But I couldn't leave. Not without him.
"I'm not going anywhere until I find him," I said, my voice more forceful than I felt.
The soldier hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "He was last seen near the front lines, near the eastern flank. But…"
"I'll find him," I said, cutting him off.
I didn't wait for him to finish. I ran, my heart pounding in my chest, the sounds of war growing louder with every step.
I had to find Étienne. I had to make sure he was okay.
Étienne
The battle raged on, and yet, it felt as though time had slowed.
My arms ached from the constant swing of my sword, and my legs burned from the relentless march. The heat of the midday sun beat down on us, and the cries of the fallen became a constant backdrop to the chaos around me.
I had lost track of time, lost track of who I was fighting. Everything had become a blur of faces, of weapons, of the desperate struggle to survive.
There were moments when I questioned myself. Why had I come here? What was I really fighting for?
Was it honor? Glory? Or simply the need to survive?
In the heat of battle, those thoughts didn't matter.
The enemy pressed harder, their ranks pushing forward in a desperate attempt to break our line. I could hear the soldiers around me shouting orders, their voices filled with panic.
We were losing ground.
The realization hit me like a blow to the chest.
If we didn't hold our position, if we didn't push them back now, we would be overrun.
I had to do something.
Something to turn the tide of the battle.
I lifted my sword, ready to fight once more.
But as I did, I felt a sharp pain in my side—a blow I hadn't seen coming. I stumbled, my vision blurring, and for a moment, the world seemed to tilt on its axis.
I couldn't go down now. Not like this.
But I couldn't shake the feeling that I was running out of time.
Victoire
I reached the front lines.
The chaos was unlike anything I had ever seen. Soldiers, covered in blood and dirt, fought with everything they had, their faces etched with the fear and desperation that came with war. The air was thick with smoke and the sounds of metal clashing against metal.
And then, I saw him.
Étienne.
He was standing at the center of the fray, his back to me, his sword raised high. His movements were fluid, precise, but I could see the exhaustion in his stance, the strain in his every movement.
I called his name, my voice barely audible above the din of the battle.
But he didn't hear me.
I couldn't wait any longer.
I pushed my way through the crowd, ignoring the danger, the screams, the blood. All that mattered was reaching him.
And when I finally did, when I stood before him, breathless and shaking, I saw the look in his eyes.
The exhaustion. The fear.
But also something else.
Relief.
"Étienne…" I whispered, stepping closer to him.
His gaze softened for a moment, but it was quickly replaced with a look of determination. "Victoire, what are you doing here?"
"I couldn't stay away," I said, my voice trembling. "I had to find you."
For a brief moment, we stood there, surrounded by chaos, as if the war had stopped for us.
But then, reality set in.
"We have to fight," he said, gripping his sword tighter.
And we did. Together.
For the first time in the battle, I felt like we had a chance.