Tin Soldier

I had fallen.

Thick waves of blood and hellish fire coloured my vision as I waited, alone, in the midst of utter destruction for my inevitable end. The world was inflamed in a sea of slaughter; oceans of crimson glimmering luminously in the darkness of the night as though ignited with the light of the sun. My body was empty. I had no remorse for the lives that I had taken. No soul, no heart. I was a shell. A puppet, nothing more.

The spark of a memory flitted across my thoughts; beautiful visions of rolling green hills and vast oceans of a deep sapphire. Colours that now only existed in my dreams. They were a distant past. A past that I would never see again, and hadn’t expected to. I had fallen willingly, into the black depths of the yawning abyss. Into a world of filth and hatred, and there was no escape.

None left the fields of the Scarlet Sea, and I was no exception. Slowly, the life was draining from my body. Not a single whisper breathed through my lips as I waited. My body lay battered and bruised amongst the bodies of my fallen brothers. The last remaining candle was flickering softly like the gentle thrum of a heartbeat. Wrapped lightly around my skin was my armour made of tin. A poor excuse for defence, but all that I had managed to scrape together.

Agony shuddered through my dying body, rippling through my muscles like a tidal wave. The effect left me weak and cold, unable to pinpoint where exactly the tsunami had derived. My blood seeped into the masses of indistinguishable limbs beneath me; the battle itself sucking my body dry.

My chin rested uncomfortably between a beaten crease in my breastplate. The dull metal had crumpled against the bone-crunching blow of a troll’s mallet, but I had survived. I always survived. In this world of ravaged war and hunger I was a soldier, and I was good at it.

Thunder rumbled through the skies, rattling the ground in a steady threatening beat but no matter how loud the heavens cried, her tears didn’t fall. Instinctively, my parched tongue scraped against chapped lips, hopeful for just a drop of the water that naturally followed a thunder’s roar. The motion was a wasteful use of energy, and I knew better than to hope for rain, but my desperation had started to cloud my rationality.

Despite years of walking the Scarlet Sea fields, I still had no knowledge of the land. Deceiving shadows and spiteful sounds played with the strings of sanity in my head; dancing along the fragile chords with a dark amusement. They taunted me. I could hear the light thrumming of drops pelting against the scattered pieces of metal and pounding faintly in the distance.

Stretching my mouth wide enough to catch a plentiful mouthful, the dried cracks of my lips split deeper, stinging slightly in the dry air as I waited hungrily for the cool liquid. But there was no rain; just my burning desire and the Scarlet Sea’s cruel laughter haunting the still air.

My eyes fluttered closed; no longer gazing upon the dark thundering clouds that draped the land in its eerie gloom. The pain that had wracked my body only moments ago had numbed to a tedious throb, and I could finally hear the banshee’s lament. Death was drawing closer; I could almost feel his breath on my skin. It was only a matter of time before he took me for his own.

I reached for the hand of Death; embracing his cold touch with a sighed relief, but just as I brushed his bony fingers, a single sound stopped me. A note floated on the air, piercing through the banshee’s cry, wrapping my body in its warmth and searing my cold and broken skin.

She melted from the darkness; appearing in a light of radiant intensity as if she, herself, were the fiery sun. The glow of her being stung my eyes, even behind their closed lids. I knew what she must be, though I couldn’t understand why she would be here. I had not sent God a prayer since walking these wretched fields. I had sinned so deeply, and yet, with such beauty she could only be an angel.

“Open your eyes.”

Her voice whispered into my thoughts like the delicate song of chimes on the breeze. Delving deep within the vast emptiness of my soul, she caressed the desperate desire buried deep inside; cradling the loneliness of my heart in such a way, that it sent me wallowing into a tragic grief.

“Open your eyes,” she said again.

Fingers as soft as silk and as warm as her voice, trailed down the length of my jaw, coaxing my eyelids to flutter open. Her touch was invigorating, and though I was physically weary, I could feel the strength of energy slowly filter into the wounds that painted my skin. My heartbeat grew stronger, pumping with life and aching for it.

The angel filled my vision with her glorious beauty and light; drugging my senses like a love-struck boy. Feelings arose within me that I had thought long dead, blooming its withered petals as bright and ripe as they could go. With a single touch, she had breathed humanity into my irredeemable soul.

“Soldier,” she whispered, and I wished I could see her through the light. “What is your name?”

My mouth parted slowly, an unintelligible grumble gurgling from my throat as the angel waited patiently. Vague questions flickered through my mind; wondering why this angel did not know my name. Eyes of angels showed them the truth. They possessed the knowledge of the most minute details that history had to offer. Even the name of a sinner.

“I asked you your name, Soldier,” stated the angel in a stronger tone, and I blinked rapidly as her light began to dim.

“I am Flynn,” I croaked obediently, my throat raw and dry.

My words were as broken as my body, but a smile tugged to her lips. The radiance of her light was fading slowly; etching her silhouette into view, and as she emerged from the light, I gazed at her in awe.

“Flynn,” she murmured quietly and I suspected it was mostly to herself. Nevertheless, I felt myself at a search for words, liking the sound of my name as it rolled delicately off her tongue, and wanting to hear it again.

“Angel,” my throat scratched out, and I winced at the pain shooting up my oesophagus. “May I… have… your name?”

Her laugh resonated like a thousand voices through the Scarlet Sea; my heart aching with pure happiness as I relished the beautiful sound. Never before had I heard such a voice. To hear it here, in the land of Death, was almost laughable in itself.

“I am not an angel, Flynn the Soldier,” the girl said with amusement, her head tilting curiously to the side. Her small smile widened, dimpling her cheeks as her lips stretched over her pearly whites. “I am of the Melia.”

The girl gracefully brushed a lock of her hair to the side, in a motion that barely looked as if she had moved at all. I could only stare; gazing longingly at the halo of golden hair that framed her smooth, porcelain face, and flowed elegantly behind her as if floating on the breeze. My fingers twitched, yearning to touch each strand of hair, knowing that each one shone a different shade of golden honey.

I had heard of the Melia before. Whispers of the undeniably beautiful tree nymphs had circled the ranks of my brothers; rumoured sightings of the goddesses that dwelled within the Forest of Ashes. Souls of the trees themselves, the nymphs were known to live as long as the seed from which they were born, and possess power to which no man could claim truth.

The nymph’s melodious laugh tickled my blushing cheeks as she leaned in closer. Her scent wafted around me, stronger now, than the rotting bodies and old blood that had stained my senses. The Melia’s eyes were wide and curious, slanted arches curving roundly before pinching together at the corners. Melting beneath her studious gaze, I meekly peered back into her large eyes, swimming in a colour as green as the ash tree leaves and flecked with the gold of her hair.

“You’re dying,” the Melia stated, blinking questioningly. I held my breath as she pushed closer, her nose kissing my own though she didn’t seem to realise the intimacy the act portrayed. “Do you wish to live?”

Letting out a breathed sigh, I gave the nymph a sad look. I wished for many things, but living was not among them, and I knew by the tone of her voice that she had sensed it. Soldiers were survivors, but they accepted when their time had reached its end, and I in particular, had outlived battalions of my brothers – each with their own reasons for joining the war.

“I wish… to know your… name,” I answered weakly.

My heart beat faster in pride as the nymph’s small smile returned to her beautiful face and I knew that I wanted to keep it there forever. The amusement sparked in her eyes again, blazing with mischief and youth. The sight had me wondering how old the Melia was.

The absence of her warmth tugged at me greedily as the nymph leaned back and shook her golden head. The motion was so human-like that for a moment I forgot that she was a tree deity, until her overwhelming beauty captured my attention once again.

Breathing in deeply, the Melia sighed. “I don’t have a name,” she replied almost regretfully before her eyes widened excitedly. “But I like yours, Flynn. Can I have it when you die?”

For the first time since I could remember, I felt my lips tug at the corners; curling ever so slightly at the innocent gaze that the nymph gave me. The foreign feeling pained my dry lips, but I couldn’t shrug the smile away at the hopeful look that crossed the girl’s features as she clutched her hands to her chest nervously.

Swallowing my struggled laugh, I steadied my laboured breathing and flashed the nymph a mischievous grin. “I don’t think… it’d suit you,” I answered with a smirk, feeling oddly like the boy I’d been before tainting myself with the blood of war.

Furrowing her brows, the happiness filling the nymph dwindled to a frown, and I felt my heart sink in guilt. Her green leaf eyes turned sadly away, staring off into the distance of the Scarlet Sea, strangely unbothered by the bloodshed that contrasted her unnatural beauty. Her eyes swept the war carelessly, as if muddied teeth weren’t scattered like pebbles at her feet. As if the Scarlet Sea was not littered with the flesh of monsters and men alike.

The silence that ensued between us was both comfortable and unsettling. The nymph was seemingly deep in thought; her face etched with a loneliness that I only knew too well. She was different, and the moment I realised it, the more I noticed how alone she was.

When the nymph finally turned back to me, it was clear that she had been contemplating my words. She peered down at me with her wide green eyes, the curious question still lingering in the crease between her brows and sadness staining her heart shaped lips. My answer had upset the nymph for reasons known only to her, but whatever those reasons were, didn’t matter. I wanted her smile back, and I knew what I needed to do to get it.

Grinding my teeth together, I lifted my chin wearily, inhaling sharply at the shooting agony pinching the nape of my neck and giving the nymph a lazy pained smile. “But… I can give you one,” I offered breathlessly.

Her name was already engraved in my mind, and I knew it had been there since the moment I saw her. The round ash leaf eyes, surrounded by her river of golden hair had imprinted so deeply into my final moments that she would now only remind me of a single word; a word that tagged nothing of her being, but one I could never replace.

A huff of pain wheezed through my lips, and I dearly hoped that Death didn’t take me before I could name the girl bouncing before my limp body. Excitement flickered in the nymph’s eyes, a grin spreading across her face as she leaned in close to me expectantly.

The sweet smell of her golden honey hair lingered gently in the air, calming my pained body, but quickening the beat of my heart. The urge to lean closer, and kiss her luscious heart shaped lips was overwhelming; her proximity sending a shudder to inappropriate places. She was mere inches away from me, demanding my attention from the sickening world that surrounded our small cocoon. As if I wasn’t lying on a bed of death.

“How about… Scarlett?”

Her lips were as sweet as I’d imagined; tasting of a rich smooth honey that left your toes tingling with ecstasy. Such a delicious taste, that would now linger on my tongue until the moment Death came, and I was grateful. I could feel him coming back, whispering sweet nothings in my ear as he warned me my time was up. My body was failing, and he’d come to collect me. The only warmth that filled me was the lips of my beautiful Scarlett as she gently pressed them against mine.

My whimper as she pulled away was pathetic; whining my last breaths like a lost puppy, but all I could think about was her lips. The way that they moved in sync with mine as if they’d been destined to lock. She was standing straight now, her head tilted curiously once more, and her smile tugging into a small grin.

“Do you wish to live?” Scarlett asked again, and I could feel my resolve falter. “You need only ask.”

She could see right through me. She knew what she’d done. And I could feel myself nodding as she stood bathed in her luminous light. I had fallen. From the moment I first saw her, she had stolen my heart. And I knew that I would never get it back.