The Nature of Triumph

The Nature of Triumph

A Story by Bryän
"

What could possibly come, in the wake of an empire's total destruction?

"

                 The heart that is the sun’s rays, slowly bled through the curtain of smog that veiled the sky. Charcoal-colored smoke stretched to this curtain; towers slowly building themselves ever higher. Ashes fell with the same delicacy as snow on a still winter’s night. It fell upon endless miles of indiscriminate debris: the ruins of a once proud empire.

                As a plague of locusts would, the armies from across the sea had flown on wings crafted of steel, and ravaged the empire with no remorse. As soon as every wall was crumbled, every home plundered and razed, every barracks collapsed, and every temple annihilated in hatred, the steel-winged armies began to fly away in organized chaos.

                Only two warriors remained, standing solemnly by as towering pyres of the dead burned. One was newly trained; it was on his first day of true battle that the empire he had sworn to defend till his final exhalation, now laid crushed and charred at his feet. There was no will left within him to preserve his composure. Crystal-like tears rolled down his blackened and burned cheeks.

                But at his side, stood a war-hardened sergeant, scowling at the fleeing invaders, their armor and wings glinting in the dimmed sunlight. The recruit to his side, weeping in hopelessness, crumpled gradually to his knees, sinking into the ash. Peals of anguished cries rang out to the smoke-obscured heavens. All they had both known and loved in their noble empire, was no more.

                Yet, the sergeant stood rigidly and kept a firm posture. As the recruit wept further, the hand of the sergeant touched his shoulder. Pointing off into the distance, the firm sergeant uttered but a few simple words.

                “Be afraid no more.”

                The recruit followed the direction of the sergeant’s extended hand. He did not care to wipe the tears away, for they stopped falling. Meeting his eyes with utmost splendor, the light of one thousand stars, rose from the ashes in a sphere. The recruit stayed on one knee, in awe and wonder at the sight. While the sergeant stayed numbly, and pointing, the dazzling light took shape, in a blinding display, into that of a hooked plant with a small number of green leaves hanging from its stem.

                From the bud, hung inverted from the peak of the plant toward the ash, a single drop of water began to blossom.

© 2010 Bryän


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Added on July 1, 2010
Last Updated on July 1, 2010

Author

Bryän
Bryän

Germantown, WI



About
Hey, I'm Brian. Just a guy that enjoys playing bass, singing, composing, and of course writing. I started writing at the age of 12 after realizing I couldn't stop thinking about a certain dream I had.. more..

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