The Eternal War: Chapter 3
It’s three AM and Lance is inside a small room. The only light within the room comes from a single candle on the desk. The shuffling sound of papers breaks the silence. His eyes quickly glance through paper after paper as if searching for something. Lance sighs then sets the papers down. He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. He opens the pack then takes out one of only a few left. He puts the cigarette to his lips then strikes a match. The reddish orange glow illuminates part of the wall.
Lance takes a few drags then he reaches for his glass and consumes the remainder of its contents. “How long has it been since I have truly enjoyed a chilled glass of bourbon…too long.” He thought silently. He finished the cigarette the put it out in an ash trey with several other butts.
It won’t be long now. I never get a reprieve. Soon I’ll be on an airplane again. Despite the power I hold within I still have to risk my life on that death contraption. Oh well, nothing to be done about that. Maybe I can get a couple of hours of sleep now as long as the dreams don’t come.
. . .
My cane clicks every second on the dot. My black cloak swishes with every step I take. There is a knot inside of me that knows what is coming. Every impulse is telling me to turn around and run, but I continue forward to face my fear. My training will not fail me. It never has.
The building looms ahead of me, dark and forbidding. I must get there in time. I must save them all. I am Lance the Guild’s personal assassin. I will save them. I find the entrance and take one deep breath.
The door opens and I take a few steps inside. My feet splash on the damp floor and that’s when I notice that I’m too late. All around the large room lay hundreds of dead children. Some are barely teenagers, and even some are infants. I can see fear in every single eye.
I fall to my knees in defeat. Too late…I’m too late…why? I look up fists in the air and with every ounce of my soul I scream. The inhuman sound reverberates of the walls of the complex. Then silence overcomes me as I stare at the ceiling and I see the note. Every year till the end of time-Feral the Devil. It was spelled out with some of the children’s corpses.
. . .
I wake in a cold sweat. My breathing is erratic. Every single night the same dream haunts me. Every time there is nothing I can do. I prey that one day I can sleep in peace. Feral… he must be stopped.
How long has it been since that fateful night? Almost ten years. And every year I try to stop the slaughter again. Nine times and nearly five thousand children later I am no closer than I was then. This time will be different. There is only three more months till the inevitable slaughter. This time I will get there in time. Too late…never again.