In a time long past, before the rise of empires and the fall of legends, there existed a land divided by strife and war. This was a realm where the gods watched over humanity with indifferent eyes, where the clash of steel and the roar of battle were the very breath of existence. Amidst this chaos, two warriors stood apart—bound by fate, yet destined to be mortal enemies.

The Valley of Shadows stretched vast and wide, a scar upon the earth where countless battles had been fought and forgotten. The air was thick with the scent of blood and iron, a reminder of the countless souls who had perished here. The ground beneath was soaked with the rain of ages, yet it bore the weight of countless warriors who had marched upon it.

At the center of this forsaken place stood Kaelan, a warrior known for his unmatched strength and unyielding spirit. His armor, scarred and battered, told tales of countless battles. His dark hair flowed like a river of night, and his eyes burned with the fury of a thousand storms. He was a master of the greatsword, a weapon so massive that few could wield it, let alone in the manner he did—with grace and a deadly precision that belied its size.

On the opposite end of the valley stood Seraphina, a warrior renowned for her speed and cunning. Clad in armor that gleamed like the morning sun, she moved with the fluid grace of a dancer. Her long hair, the color of spun gold, streamed behind her like a banner, and her blue eyes shone with a fierce determination. In her hand, she wielded twin blades, sharp and swift as lightning, capable of slicing through even the thickest armor.

The two warriors had been drawn to this place by a prophecy—a whisper on the wind that spoke of a final battle, where the fate of the world would be decided. They were bound by honor, by the oaths they had sworn to their gods, and by the knowledge that only one could leave this valley alive.

As they approached one another, the earth seemed to tremble beneath their feet, and the skies darkened as if mourning the battle that was about to unfold. The wind howled through the valley, carrying with it the spirits of those who had fallen before, a ghostly audience to the impending clash.

With a roar that echoed across the valley, Kaelan charged forward, his greatsword held high. He moved like a tempest, a force of nature that could not be stopped. Seraphina, in contrast, waited with the calm of a predator stalking its prey. At the last moment, she sidestepped Kaelan’s charge, her twin blades slicing through the air with a speed that was almost supernatural.

Steel met steel with a sound like thunder, and sparks flew as their weapons clashed. Kaelan’s strength was immense, each swing of his greatsword carrying the weight of a falling mountain. But Seraphina was quick, her movements a blur as she danced around him, her blades darting in and out like vipers.

For hours they fought, the valley around them becoming a battleground of shattered earth and broken stone. Kaelan’s attacks were relentless, each strike meant to end the battle in a single blow. But Seraphina was always one step ahead, her agility and precision allowing her to avoid his strikes and counter with her own.

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the valley, both warriors began to tire. Their breaths came in ragged gasps, their movements slower and less sure. But neither would yield. They were bound by more than just honor—they were bound by fate, by the prophecy that had brought them to this place.

With a final, desperate surge of strength, Kaelan swung his greatsword in a wide arc, aiming to end the battle with one last, powerful strike. Seraphina, seeing her opportunity, dodged under his blade and lunged forward, her twin blades flashing like twin suns as they found their mark.

There was a moment of stillness as the two warriors stood facing each other, the world around them holding its breath. Kaelan’s greatsword fell from his grasp, and he dropped to his knees, his strength finally leaving him. Seraphina’s blades were buried deep in his side, but her own face was pale and weary, her body trembling with exhaustion.

Kaelan looked up at her, his eyes no longer burning with fury, but with something else—respect, perhaps, or understanding. “You fight with honor, Seraphina,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “The gods will welcome you as a true warrior.”

Seraphina nodded, her breath coming in shallow gasps. “And you, Kaelan. May the gods grant you peace in the halls of the fallen.”

With those final words, Kaelan slumped to the ground, his eyes closing for the last time. Seraphina, too, felt her strength leaving her, her vision growing dim as the world around her faded to black.

And so, in the Valley of Shadows, the prophecy was fulfilled. Two warriors, bound by fate and honor, had met in battle and found their end. Their spirits, like those who had fallen before them, would become part of the valley—a place where legends were born, and where the echoes of their epic battle would forever resonate across the ages.

They stood across the field from one another. The sun beginning to set behind them. The wind blew dust around them, making their capes rustle. One bright yellow with the sun embroidered in pure gold, the other deepest blue, the phases of the moon lovingly rendered in silver thread. They held their swords ready. The battlefield hushed around them, knowing this was the battle that would decide it all. It would begin at the end of the day, and end at the beginning of the night.

To think they had been friends once. More than that. But now they faced one another as enemies, nothing between them but hate, and deepest sorrow.

As the gloaming began to set in a horn sounded. They advanced on one another. Slow steps becoming full out sprints. Then they clashed, gold and black armor whirling together so fast they became a blur.

They knew one another’s tactics. Each move parried, others ducked under, or pushed out of the way. But they could still surprise one another. The golden warrior landed an elbow into the chin of the black helmet making its owner stagger back. The golden warrior spun to follow through with their sword, but the dark one saw it coming and blocked at the last minute.

The rest of the field was silent. Watching the battle. They moved almost as if they were dancing, blades cutting the air, taking advantage of the space left by the other. They did not seem as though they would tire and that the battle would never cease. The golden warrior managed to press an advantage and pushed the dark warrior back by a few feet, but the dark warrior quickly recovered, feinting a stumble then landing an impressive kick to the center of the golden warrior’s open chest.

The dark one took advantage of the stumble and knocked the golden warrior completely off balance to the ground and pushing the blade to their throat.

Both went still, the only sound their jagged breathing. Then the golden warrior spoke.

“Finally.”

The warrior raised a hand and removed the golden helm.

“At least look me in the eyes when you do it.”

Slowly, the dark warrior removed their helmet, pushing the tip of the sword further into the golden warrior’s throat.

The helm clattered to the ground. Dark onyx eyes stared into sky blue ones.

“Now do it. End it.”

The blade struck as the sun dipped below the horizon.

The sun slipped below the horizon and the blade struck home.

The ship crashed down into the shore of rocks and sand. No, this battle would not end here, he would never lose to another captain. The rocks shook the boat and bashed in the front of the ship. The crew stumbled and the sound of a cannon resounded. A figure emerged from the reckage, a woman. She pranced onto the ship a look of disappointment spreading across her face as she noted the disheveled crew. A sword was cluched tightly in each hand. Then she noticed him, a sword in his hand, and still standing even after the crash. A smile spread accross her face. “You look strong, do you want to fight?” For some reason this unerved him, “Never,mind, you don’t have a choice.” She swung the blade twards his head. “Crew! Get up! We are under attack!” His blade met hers with a loud clang as his crew stubbled to their feet. His pride and honnor was on the line, he could not lose this fight to a girl. With her other blade she jabbed at his stomache. He jumped back and attempted to do the same thing. She blocked the blade but failed to notice the fist coming at her face. Her eyes darkened with anger as the blow impacted and brused her face. “You’re going to pay for that!” She screamed, one blade jabbed at his head the other at his stomache. The blade grazed his face. The battle continued, blows here and there making their mark. There was a batte raging on outside of them but to him it felt as though this was the only battle on the ship. A swipe for the legs, then the head, the stomache, and then arms. One landed. One sword dug deep into his abdomin and the second impaled him, all the way through. He collapsed to the floor. His vision went blurry then black. He heard words so faint they could have come from the other side of the world for all he knew. “I guess you wern’t as strong of a pirate as I thought.”

Heavy breathing and the scrapes of metal against rock fill the temple. Rubble sits around their feet, splattered blood drops stain the rock under their feet.

“Yield now.” Jaskier demands, brown hair damp with his sweat. His sword is held up by firm hands, calloused from years in battle. The scars on his hands and arms are proof of his survival, or as the Commanders say, talent.

The rebel manages to force out a strained laugh at that, small but sharp knives in hand and hidden on his person. “Yielding is for the weak.” The man says, matted blond hair falling long past his shoulders and over his wide eyes. “Which is exactly what your kind are, so why dont you do everyone a favour and turn that sword on yourself!?”

Jaskier grunts and tightens his grip on the handle of his sword. The rebels words are bold and arrogant, no doubt the reason the man was outcasted in the first place. “You speak those words like you know the meaning of them.”

Predictably, this angers the rebel enough to charge at him, the sharp end of the knives intent on breaking through his armour. Jaskier stays still with his sword high before turning on the heel of his boot and swinging his sword at the rebels back.

The man drops to the floor with a pained yell, grunting and gasping in pain as more blood carpets the floor.

“Yield now?” Jaskier dares him to say otherwise, hovering the tip of his sword above the mans throat.

(it said i could right a scene, not the ending, so ill leave anyone to reads this hanging ;))

The battle field was a mess of mud and dirt. Blood flowed in puddles bodies cut and sliced to pieces. Reese stood at the edge of the battle field looking out at the destruction. It was magnificent a work of art. He lifted his sword from the ground, He pointed the edge of the sword at his chest. This work of art, seeing the destruction he would be just fine to end it sourounded by his fallen Enemies and friends. Crack, Reese spun towards the noise a man stepped out of the forest behind Reese. “Are you the one who caused this?” The man asked. “Wha-“ Reese tried to ask, but he was cut off and the flash of a steel as a knife was flung towards his head. Ducking he stared at the man. But only for a second then he sprung into action but it was already too late. The man meet Reese’s sword with his own. The mans eyes gray dark, Reese grasped in shock as the man pushed Reese away with the flick of his wrist. It was clear this wasn’t a fight Reese could win, But… it wasn’t possible for his to die peacefully on this battle field if he was killed. He picked up the arrent knife and flung it back at the man. The man caught it perfectly between two finger. Reese wanted to run, he really, really, really wanted to run. He took one last look at the scene behind him and made up his mind. Reese ran forward, the man predictably swung his sword downwards at Reese’s neck, Reese dogged to the right and grabbed a handful of dirt. With one swift motion he threw it into the mans eyes. The man hopped backwards blinking dirt from his eyes. Reese took the opportunity to ask a question. “Who are you,” “The Hero,” The man answered, The man was full of himself, what did that make him? The villain? Ok never mind that made very much sense. The hero came once more at Reese but this time he was faster. Reese barely managed to get his sword up to block. But the sword left deep dark cuts in his arms that left rips in the fabric of his shirt. Reese parried, and just managed to land a small cut on the hero’s foot. The hero pulled back then charged a large purple ball of magic. Reeses eyes widened, the ball impacted with his ribs forcing his ribs to bend and brake under the force. He sputtered spitting out blood, falling onto his butt. His eyes widened as the hero approached, the finally he figured it out, why the hero had caught his attention. “Adrian…” Reese wispered but Adrian didn’t move. “Adrian!” he called out flinging his arms out as if to hug the self proclaimed hero, Reese’s eyes widened as his fand went to the sword protruding from his middle. He looked at Adrain, “Why? We where brothers so why?” Adrien didn’t look at him instead he looked out a the battle field for a moment then picked up Reese’s sword and heading back into the trees. Leaving his sword still implanted in Reese. “Why?” Reese asked one more time, body slouching forward, face pale, voice weak. His hand reached out fearfully towards his brother. Adrian turned towards Reese one last time “you stopped being my brother when you ran away and left me.” A look of understanding crossed Reese’s face and he grabbed the handle of the sword protruding from his middle. Then he pulled it out blood splashing everywhere. His body falling to the ground with a thump. Adrian crossed over to the body and took the necklace hung around Reeses dead neck. Then tears running down his face he disappeared into the night.

We were here first. Since before the dinosaurs, we the humble bedbug lived on the big lizards. Then we moved on to birds and spread to bats. The emergence of humans, you delicious hairless apes, in our caves was a delight. As you spread we came along to drink your blood. Nothing personal.

From the caves to a cold water flat over a deli, we are where you are, where you sleep. Tucked into the seams of of your pillows, in the crevices of your mattress, we wait until you are in your deepest sleep to feed. What’s a few drops of blood between old friends.

You have fought us with arsenic smoke and kerosene soaked bedding. You have fought us with magical spells and slurries of crushed bedbugs. Didn’t work, pals. We’re back with a vengeance.

“Sweetie, wakey wakes time to get up.”

A sprinkle of bright red droplets lay on the pillow. The boy rubbed at his sleepy eyes. Fine scratch marks marked his cheeks and neck. Already a rosy rash of small blisters was spreading along the child’s rounded arms. The mother’s eyes grew large. She scratched her own neck.

“I’m itchy all over Mommy.”

Now we hang out in your hotels and ride along in the creases of your suitcases. We are bugs yes but we work together to feed, to live. From home to home, we are spreading. Why fight?

Death the complex multifaceted concept. Which brings terror, and sadness, to all those who hear its name. Death has brought tragedy to many of us, whether that's through a family member or friend, the death of those around us has led us to question its true meaning. In our questioning, we have derived at many different whats and why's. Why is it here, what does it mean, and why are we even born if we're all just gonna die one day. These are the questions which have haunted us all our lives, in search for understanding. However I am not here to give you a clear guide to understanding the meaning of death rather, my perspective on death and and why I personally view it as a gift rather than a curse.

Man can't appreciate life if he does not believe or accept death as possible in any moment. Once man has fully accepted death as a possibility he can truly live. Therefore Death is a standing in which man takes from to appreciate life in its fullest form. As the man who realizes death, is like that of a snake who can strike at any moment. Appreciates life in its fullest form For he knows that at any moment it might just be his last. Thus he is able to cherish every moment life has to offer, until he meets his final fate of death.

Furthermore humility is the ultimate factor death has to offer. Man meets the same fate, thus we are equals for the man who is superior is greater on every level metaphysically and physically. As a result of this no man is superior, for he who cannot transcend morality is nothing more than a man. Those who see themselves as superior are in a state of delusion for they are like that of Narcissus, in love with their own reflection. For the man who is superior is that who can transcend human limitations such as mortality and death. Thus we should not fear man nor put ourselves or other on a pedestal as no man is exempt from death. From this perspective man can gain humility, for the wisdom of death comes to us all but only those who seek to understand can gain it.

“Today, I will teach you common tactics in a battle of wits,” Chiron declared to Achilles and Patroclus.

With a raised brow of uncertainty, Patroclus shared a perplexed glance with Achilles. The two young boys didn’t understand the importance of such a thing, especially compared to Chiron’s other lessons, such as surgery and carpentry.

Noting their confusion, Chiron strictly explained. “Sometimes, a man’s strongest weapon is not his sword, but his tongue.” He then gave each boy a rock as big as their small hands. “We will begin with a short exercise. I would like to observe what type of conversationalist you both are before I teach you.”

“What are we supposed to do with these?” Achilles inquired, rolling his rock along his palm.

“Attempt to use persuasion to obtain the other person’s rock, while still keeping your own,” Chiron instructed curtly. “You may begin.”

Once again, Achilles and Patroclus shared a look. Chiron usually gave them very specific instructions during lessons, but this was oddly vague. Silence fell between them as they eyed each other up and waited for the other to start.

Patroclus went first. “Can I have your rock?”

“No!” Achilles laughed and shook his head. The sound of his amused laughter made Patroclus smile.

“Come on, I’ll trade you for it!” Patroclus replied determinedly.

His chuckling coming to a gradual stop, Achilles glanced to the side in ponder. “What are you offering?”

“How about a flower?”

The thought of receiving a flower from him was such a heart-fluttering gesture, but he denied the feeling. “I don’t want a flower.”

“A… leaf?”

“Not interested.”

“Okay, okay, fine, do you want my rock then?”

“Are you serious?” Achilles scoffed. “You’re exchanging my rock for your rock?”

“It’s the only way we can both sort of win, right?” Patroclus shrugged with a lopsided grin.

“Hm, yeah, I guess.” Achilles leaned forward with his rock, preparing to make the exchange. But then, he hesitated. His face scrunched up in scepticism. “How do I know you won’t deceive me?”

“You can trust me,” Patroclus said in a tone so reassuring, it was almost suspicious.

Neither of them budged. Achilles looked at him up and down as he leaned back, clutching his rock against his chest again. He couldn’t help but grin at his friend’s slyness.

Seeing as Achilles wasn’t going to trust him anytime soon, Patroclus sighed deeply. “Fine. Do you want me to be honest?”

“Yes,” Achilles nodded, his voice a pitch higher in amused wariness.

Patroclus leaned in and put his lips next to his friend’s ear. He whispered something with a playful smirk, his breath hot on his neck. His soft words caused Achilles’ cheeks to flush with pink.

Then, seizing the opportunity, Patroclus took Achilles’ rock while he was off guard.

“Wh— hey!” Achilles tried to grab at his rock, but it was too late. He put his hands to his head in fluster. “What… how?!”

“I figured there was something else you wanted from me other than my rock.” Patroclus said coyly.

Chiron exhaled a short huff of a faint chuckle, allowing himself a smile as he watched the boys begin to tease each other back and forth. He knew what was going on between them, so he let it play out and have their fun for now.

As the boys talked the day away, Chiron couldn’t wait to watch them grow up and see what kind of future they would have together.

My armour was weighty upon my shoulders, the old metal clanking as I walked. Striding towards my enemy, sword by my side and shield strapped to my hand as the thunder bellowed and lightning struck the land next to my very foot. “So we meet again Matthias.” My eyes rolled at the name, if only he knew who he was up against. “So we do my dearest friend.” My voice dropped with sarcasm. My eyes narrowed, the only thing visible due to the balaclava and heavy helmet. Slowly I drew my sword up, preparing for the impending fight that would surely ensue any second from now. Then it began. He lunged towards me, spear just nicking my ribs in between the layers of chainmail. Swiftly I manoeuvred behind him, his shoulders exposed between the two planes of metal protecting his back. Quickly I raised my sword, and aimed but the dirty, little frog knocked my foot making me lose balance and have to reposition. “Oh no my little warrior friend! You shall not!” He laughed, manically. Thunder sounded again and lightning lit up the night sky. Shall I go on….

Act 2: Scene 1:

-A small tavern filled with its usual patrons, a barmaid is polishing glasses behind the bar. Archie, an old army leader who defected from the north to fight with the south, sits at the bar alone. In walks Theo.-

Archie: Aha! Pray barmaid, two of yer best for us and haver not. Come prithee ye wee bastar’t and sing yer stories of success, I chance.

Theo: Thus?

Archie: Aye, today mind.

-Theo joins Archie at the bar and sits upon a high stool-

Archie: So, tell me young Theo, dids’t thou witness the great rivers of blood from these savage beasts or lay still and keech yer garments again? -Archie roars into great laughter-

Theo: Scoff. What chance? No monarch army, Road layer or foreign legion could mark upon those hills. Leathered five to one. I know not how to defeat these locals, for they are savage and unyielding. My men are submerged in the pool of doubt before a sword is even unsheathed. Their fears are whetted and then the metallic fog of death fills their lungs. The hills are painted with our crimson waters and those cretins laugh at us as we retire. So hastily our retreat was, the echoes like hysterical ravens followed us for miles.

-the barmaid brings across the tankards of ale for each man and places them on the counter. Theo grasps his and goes to take a sip. Archie grabs the tankard from Theo’s hand and launches it across the pub. Archie leans over the top of Theo and does not blink-

Archie: Tell me, ya wee shite: yer no sitting warming thy belly with ale after permitting the men of the north to laugh at us again are ye? I entreat ye; permit me my boot into thy warm belly and have me go up there to do it myself.

Theo: Stay your hand Archie. I have a renewed and cunning plan.

Archie: Aye? Entertain me then, bastar’t. And if ye use my name again, I will beat ye with my fist until death.

Theo: Sir, the clans are unrested. A local dolt spilled his lungs to my men. The savages fight over land and other matters. We should be patient and-

Archie: PATIENT!? How many full moons hast thou counted with these men, to result not?

Theo: Please sir, I beseech. Should we wait until they resort to the violence they do, and they will, their numbers will be littler and our men can wade in and end their reign.

Archie: Troubled, Theo. I am troubled and ye were bested again and, beset by farmers I should say. Should your tactic prove bereft, my dear Theo, there shall be no quarrel but I shall give ye a sore neck upon that rounded piece of quarry laying upon the grass outside and I shall have the weans punt yer empty heed into the loch. Dos’t I make ma self clear?

Theo: Wholly, sir.

-Archie sits down and begins to drink from his ale-

-Lights dim to spotlight on Theo, voice over commences-

Theo voice over: Whos’t thou to insinuate bastard? You northern filth. Driest dung to be scraped from mine boot serves better purpose on this Earth than thee, great almighty oaf. If mine father heard of this insolence he would have thou head. Drink away beast and return back to thou beast wife too. I dares’t suggest thy own womb bearer be a creature of the swamps too! I will destroy these savage creatures in the north and then I shall return to this mud-hut and find thee doubtlessly slumped across this bar top and I will pierce thee rear with my spear and decorate this tavern with thy remains. See if I do not.

-lights come up again-

Archie: Theo!

Theo: Sir?

Archie: Dreaming of going back to thy mammy to suckle upon the teet of home comforts?

Theo: Nay…

Archie: Oh, then perhaps thou was ignoring me? Perhaps I should cave in thy daft wee face and save the northerners the trouble?

Theo: No, sir.

Archie: Then what more business hast thou for me? Be gone wee bastar’t and show not yer face here again until those savages are cleared. Thoust would do well to not darken this place again or so help me. Be gone I said!

-Theo gritted his teeth and clenched his fist for a moment before standing up and walking out of the tavern-

-Scene end-