Bloodlust

It was then he realised.

His oldest friend and most trusted allie had nothing but hate for this world, it poured from the gaping wound that never healed after the loss of his love. He had only contempt for the people left and sought no longer to protect the weak and oppose the unjust, all he wanted now was absolute rule over all.

Staring in to his eyes, reaching out in the hope to find the man he once knew is not gone only buried deep in the pain of loss, he calls to him.

“Brother, it doesn’t have to be this way. It doesn’t have to end in blood!”

Clutching his sword in eager anticipation he waits for a reply but is instead met with deafening silence and a stare as cold as ice. The silence continued to roll in like dust carried across a stormy sky, the man stood before him bathed in the blood of his kinsman was now a king who had it all, but less of a man than he ever was as a solider.

“You are fool Talyn. You fight against the world and what it has become, refusing to embrace the change. This is why I was crowned, because you lack the necessary strength to spill the blood of the innocent for the needs of the future!”

Bone chilling words softly said with vicious intent broke the silence and left Talyn in disarray. Drawing his sword and taking a stance he prepares for the inevitable. Tears filling the void in his heart and drown the fires of their kinship.

“So then you are truly lost… Consumed by the power bestowed upon you by the people. I will stop you, no matter the cost!

Now take up your sword and fight me with whatever honour you have left.”

Smirking as he steps over the fresh corpses beneath his feet he draws the blade that won so many wars with a single swing. Gracefully avoiding the puddles of blood with a murderous rage in his eye and a bloodlust in his heart he charges at full force and screams.

“You blasphemous SCUM!”

Here he comes… his blade feels dull, it has lost the terrifying presence it once had.

Now’s my chance!

Blood sprays in to the sky and falls to the ground like gentle rain on a summers day. Shards of a broken blade scatter to the wind and as before all it took was single swing of his sword.

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