The Revolution

She stood facing the battle field, staring down a massive army, her sword in her hand. She was perched on the back of her dragon, scales glowing saffron and crimson and gold and silver. Her black hair blew in the wind, brushing her cheek. At her side, the sword in her hand glowed scarlet red and fiery orange in the light of the rising sun.

She knew this battle would be hard, and that it would cost her greatly. But did the cost matter when you had nothing left to lose? When everything and everyone you loved was gone? When all you had were the clothes on your back, the sword at your side, and the dragon fighting alongside you?

Of course she cared about her dragon, but they both knew this would be their last battle. They had met not so long ago, and had forged an unbreakable bond throughout this war, but their time had come. This would be the end, their final battle, and the last moments they had together in this world. Perhaps they would be together in the next world, and perhaps she would be reunited with everyone she had lost to this war, but there was no guarantee of that. She didn’t even know if anything awaited her on the other side. If there was a life beyond this one, it probably wouldn’t be pretty considering all she had done in this war, all the people she’d killed, the monster this long fight had turned her into.

But she had hope. Hope that whoever survived would see a better world, a new world. Hope that those left would rebuild and thrive. Hope that in this battle, she would take as many to the depths of the afterlife with her as she could. Hope. That was what had kept her going all this time. That was what had sparked this revolution. That was what would keep the survivors going. Hope.

She knew this would be a long and hard battle. She knew many lives would be lost. But she knew that either way, she would fight until the bitter end, fight so that others could keep fighting, fight for a better world for those who would come after her. Maybe they would remember her name, her sacrifice. Maybe they would help create her legacy.

Whatever came next, it would be a nightmare, but she would face it on two feet, a sword in her hand, her black hair billowing out behind her, on the back of her mighty dragon. Yes, she would go down fighting. And it would be a glorious death. They would not soon forget her name.

As she plunged into battle, she carried that feeling in her heart, the great idea that had started this whole revolution, the spark that had fanned into a flame. The feeling that could move mountains and change minds. That feeling rang through her heart, rang true in the depths of her soul. That one word.


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