@Reblod flag
The title doesn't make sense. Here. Be harsh if you need cos I need it.
(I have a lot done and I've rewritten it so many times but I'm just still not happy with it so hopefully this will be the last damn time)
Introduction
Winter sunsets are the loneliest moments the world of Nativma will ever know. They are beautiful. Brilliant hues of orange, violet and magenta paint the skies as they appear but it’s a mask. A false skin hiding the true nature of the monster that lurks beneath. Warmth, joy, fulfillment; all things such beauty will never offer but desolation and despair—the world will gladly exchange this for the slightest glance at something so dreadfully enchanting.
Victims of this distorted reality feel that desolate chasm of isolation tearing a hole in their chests as the ice winds of the west lift any feelings of hope or happiness and whisk them away to a sickening nothingness. No one escapes the cold, whether it be from the sky or from the brothers that once breathed the same air as them.
It’s Medeis. The corrupt and cruel force that stalks our hearts. It is a doomed world whose inhabitants slaughter each other with an unflinching hate. Magic, the very life blood of the earth and creatures, is the one thing that sows the seed of aggression in even the most pleasant of souls. War, blood and fear is the one true law. There is no rest. There is only the ice and snow.
No one can save us. We are alone, we can’t survive this. The Void comes for us all.
Chapter 1
As the morning came so did thousands of tiny mirrors reflecting the newborn light. The sky was wide and endless, dotted with orange tinged clouds as the sun gracefully climbed the azure ladder to take its place at the height of the world. The realm of above, free from the poison of knowledge, simply existed. It brought destructive storms in winter and sweet warmth in summer. There was no prejudice, only nature and its forces. There was a sense of grand beauty to it all.
Amongst the subtle whistling of wind gliding past bluffs the sound of metal softly clattering echoed solemnly over the valleys that dimpled the dark mountain range far below. The angel that was the cause of the noise shuddered as a cloud passed overhead, casting the landscape into deeper shadow. She didn’t move though. She remained still, watching.
She was called Louise, a name her parents gifted her as a name fit for a warrior. It was expected as she was indeed fleta and her blood yearned for battle. Like many of the youths of her kind, Louise had given in to the pull of war. The simplest thought of going into battle was enough to get her heart racing in anticipation. But that was before. Before, she didn’t expect to be tearing those same youths from the skies, tearing away their breath and colour. Louise’s carefully balanced position wavered as she remembered. Why had she done it? Perhaps her parents could have been to blame or, even her king but there was no honour in accusing the dead. And dead was exactly what they were. Her mother and father were killed in the same war she now fought in and her king—her king was as good as dead anyway.
It was a long time ago and firmly in the past but Louise couldn’t fight the mass of unwanted emotion roiling in her chest whenever she remembered. Her eyes darkened and she clenched her fists. The metal of her reinforced talons screeched, piercing the young angel’s sensitive hearing. She took in an icy breath of air and let herself relax. The sun was up and she had things to do. It was one of those rare moments during war when everything was still and calm. The remnants of chaos lingered, though. In Medeis, peace came and went like the seasons and, just like them, it was unpredictable; unreliable.
