An Endless War

A short story that takes place within the saga I've dubbed the "Light of Death". It is a fictional world within a fantasy setting. I've taken inspirations from several pieces of fantasy fiction.

2,000 years ago…

A dark haze covered the sky, blotting out the sun for days and shrouding the world in an unrelenting fog of despair. The stench of war, blood, sweat, and decay, hung heavy in the air, a grotesque reminder of the unending slaughter. Death showed no mercy.

Tiandrus the Holy, leader of the living, sat stiffly on his gilded throne, his officers clustered around him. The throne's grandeur felt like a mockery of the carnage outside its walls, but he had to maintain the illusion. They believed in him, the man said to commune with the Goddess of Life, their whispered savior. And yet, he didn’t believe in himself. He knew the truth: so far, this war was a massacre, and the living were losing.

“What reports do we have from the frontlines?” His voice carried through the chamber, steady but weary. He couldn’t let them see the cracks. He needed to be a fortress, even as doubt clawed at his heart.

One of the officers, his General, Xalves, stepped forward. Scars crisscrossed his body, each a testament to battles survived, and his one-eyed gaze bore into Tiandrus with grim resolve. “My Lord,” he began, his voice low and steady, though hesitation lingered. He paused, gathering himself before pressing on. “We’ve lost all our perimeter strongholds. Maelia’s army continues to advance toward us. Refugees flood in every day, and our farmers are struggling to keep the masses fed.”

He hesitated again, a flicker of panic in his eye, but he forced it down. “Our remaining force is 3,000 strong, but morale is low.”

The room fell silent. Everyone had known this, though hearing it aloud made the weight unbearable. Tiandrus’s officers cast uncertain glances at one another, but no one spoke.

Tiandrus stood from his throne, his movements deliberate and heavy with purpose. He stepped into their circle, the officers parting to make way. Their eyes turned to him, not with hope, but with doubt, and that doubt threatened to spread like rot.

“Rations will prioritize the soldiers,” he declared, his voice firm, cutting through the silence. “We need them strong if we are to survive this war.”

He looked at each man, his gaze hard and unyielding. “We make our last stand here. Prepare yourselves, worse is coming. But if Maelia is to win this war, we will not make it easy for her!”

Tiandrus let out a low, guttural growl. “We will show that wretched witch that the living will not fall so easily! By the holy light of Aeliana, we will prevail! We will push back the dead!”

He raised his hand skyward, his fingers trembling as he reached for Aeliana’s divine presence. A surge of warmth washed over him as her light descended, a radiant force filling him with strength. Closing his eyes, he channeled her power, conjuring a massive holy spell. The room glowed with a golden brilliance, the light spilling across every surface, chasing away the shadows. Its warmth seeped into the hearts of all present, an invigorating force that banished doubt and fatigue.

“By the Goddess of Life, Aeliana, we will survive this!” Tiandrus declared, his voice reverberating through the chamber. “It is foretold!”

“For Aeliana!” The cry erupted from the men as they unsheathed their swords, the metallic ring echoing in unison. They raised their blades high, saluting their leader and their Goddess. The room swelled with their resolve, their voices a blazing beacon of hope against the encroaching darkness.

Tiandrus looked upon his men with pride. This was their final stand, their last act of defiance. And though death loomed, they would meet it with heads held high, their hearts unyielding.

The deep, rhythmic pounding of drums reverberated through the air as soldiers lined the castle walls, their faces pale but resolute. Tiandrus stood among them, his radiant form casting a golden glow that cut through the gloom. To the soldiers, he was no mere man, he was their shield against despair, a living testament to Aeliana’s divine blessing. His light bolstered their courage, igniting a flicker of hope even as darkness loomed.

A scout sprinted up the stone steps, his chest heaving as he approached Tiandrus. “My Lord, o’Holy one,” the man gasped, bowing deeply.

“Speak,” Tiandrus said, his tone steady despite the pity he felt for the trembling man.

The scout lifted his gaze, awe mingling with fear. “A massive horde approaches, my Lord. They will reach us by dusk.”

Tiandrus nodded, offering a calm smile that belied the storm in his heart. “Thank you,” he said, watching the scout bow again and disappear into the bustling ranks.

Of course she would attack at dusk, he thought grimly. The witch thrives in darkness.

As his gaze swept over the open field, a shadow streaked across the horizon. A dark figure descended with an unnatural grace, landing in a swirl of dust and malevolence. The gleaming black steel of his armor seemed to drink in the light, and massive ebony wings folded behind him like a shroud.

“Titanius,” Tiandrus whispered, the name escaping his lips like a curse.

A ripple of fear spread through the soldiers. Murmurs turned to gasps, and even the drums faltered. Titanius was no ordinary foe, his name was synonymous with death itself, a harbinger of ruin.

Tiandrus straightened his shoulders, his expression hardening. He turned and descended the wall’s stairs with measured steps.

“Sire!” one of his officers called, rushing to intercept him. “You don’t mean to face him?”

“Without you, we are lost!” another pleaded.

“I must,” Tiandrus said, his voice calm but unyielding. “This battle is beyond any of you. If we are to stand a chance, I must face Titanius alone.”

“Sire, no!” a soldier cried out. “It’s suicide!”

Panic-laced voices swirled around him, but Tiandrus kept walking. The weight of their pleas pressed on him, but he carried it with quiet resolve. His duty was clear. If this was to be his end, he would face it with dignity, and perhaps, just perhaps, buy his people enough time to survive.

The field between Tiandrus and Titanius was barren, the earth scorched and lifeless beneath a shroud of oppressive clouds. Tiandrus strode forward, his gleaming armor catching what little light pierced the gloom. His claymore, blessed by Aeliana, pulsed faintly with divine energy, a beacon against the encroaching darkness.

Across the desolation, Titanius watched with a wicked grin, his black wings unfurling like a predator preparing to strike. “So,” he called, his voice a cold mockery that echoed across the field, “the Champion of Aeliana approaches. Brave, yet foolish. Tell me, mortal, do you wish to die quickly, or shall I savor this?”

Tiandrus stopped, raising his claymore. “Your dark mistress will not prevail, Angel of Death. As long as Aeliana’s light shines, we will resist.” Without waiting for a reply, he charged, his blade gleaming with holy power.

Titanius laughed, the sound sharp and grating. He summoned a massive black claymore from the void, its edges shimmering with malevolence. Effortlessly, he parried Tiandrus’s strike, the clash of their blades ringing out like thunder.

Blow after blow, Tiandrus pressed forward, but Titanius deflected each attack with a cruel ease, his movements fluid and unhurried. “Is this all your goddess offers you?” Titanius taunted. “How disappointing.”

Panting, Tiandrus stepped back, frustration and exhaustion etched into his features. He raised his hand, summoning a powerful holy spell. Light surged from the heavens, crashing down onto Titanius in a blinding explosion.

For a moment, the Angel of Death faltered, a growl escaping his lips. But the moment passed, and his grin returned. “A flicker,” he sneered, brushing off the faint scorch marks on his armor. “Is that all?”

Before Tiandrus could respond, Titanius took to the air, his wings churning the air with an ominous hum. Shadows coalesced around him as he cast his spell. The earth beneath Tiandrus glowed black, and skeletal hands clawed their way to the surface.

Tiandrus fought valiantly, his claymore flashing as he struck down the undead abominations. Each swing burned with holy energy, and a final spell eradicated the remaining skeletons in a burst of radiant light. “Enough games!” he roared, pointing his blade at Titanius. “Face me, Angel of Death!”

Titanius hovered above, laughing darkly. “As you wish, mortal. But know this, you will regret your defiance.” He dove, his speed blinding.

The strike was over in an instant. Tiandrus gasped as the black blade sliced through him, the force of the blow sending him to his knees. Blood spilled from the grievous wound, staining the dead earth.

Titanius stood over him, smiling as the Holy King’s lifeless body crumpled. He turned his gaze to the castle, his grin widening. “Now,” he murmured, “let the real fun begin.”

The soldiers screamed in rage and despair, charging toward the Angel of Death. Titanius watched, almost bored, as they approached. Then, with a sinister smile, he unleashed his spell.

A vortex of dark magic erupted around him, its tendrils reaching out to steal the souls of the living. The air grew heavy with screams as the soldiers fell, their lifeless bodies collapsing one by one. From the vortex emerged a monstrosity, a hulking abomination with mismatched limbs, countless eyes, and faces writhing within its flesh.

The battlefield fell silent as the creature let out a roar that shook the heavens. Its many mouths screamed in unison, a cacophony of agony that paralyzed the remaining soldiers with fear.

Titanius hovered above it all, a dark silhouette against the swirling storm. “Behold,” he declared, “the glory of Maelia’s power. Despair, mortals, for your end has come.”

The sight of the abomination was enough to crush any lingering hope. The soldiers stood frozen, their faces pale with terror. Some dropped to their knees, weeping, while others simply stared, paralyzed by the looming death they knew was coming. There was no escaping it. No fighting it. The inevitable end had arrived.

Titanius reveled in the chaos, his grin widening as the fear he had cultivated spread like wildfire. "Do not worry," he called out mockingly, rising into the air and landing atop the abomination’s grotesque head. His wings folded slightly, his weight pressing down on the creature like a rider on a beast. "You will soon return as servants of Maelia. Your lives will serve her greater purpose."

The abomination let out a deafening roar, shaking the ground beneath them. The humans, who had been paralyzed by fear, now scattered like panicked prey, their hope shattered beyond repair.

“Like cockroaches,” Titanius sneered, watching as they fled. "Let them run."

With a wave of his hand, the abomination lunged forward, its massive arms reaching out to snatch the fleeing mortals. One by one, they were crushed or devoured with chilling indifference. It moved with terrifying speed, devouring everything in its path, its hunger insatiable.

Titanius glanced behind him, watching Maelia’s army approach, but he knew it was unnecessary. The end of humanity was at hand. The slaughter had already begun.

For several minutes, the battlefield became a nightmare. The abomination tore through the soldiers and civilians alike, its flesh-covered arms sweeping aside anything in its path. Desperate arrows shot at the creature, but they simply bounced off its unyielding hide. When the abomination reached the castle walls, it roared again, shattering the stone gates with one mighty blow. The remaining humans cowered in fear, unable to escape, their eyes filled with hopelessness.

Then, a flash of light tore through the sky, blinding and brilliant. A massive bolt of yellow energy struck the abomination square in the face, searing its flesh. The creature howled in agony, its monstrous form reeling back.

From above, a figure descended, his wings of pure white gleaming in the dim light. Clad in radiant armor, he wielded a long, shining scythe that hummed with divine power. As he flew towards the abomination, he sliced through the creature’s flesh with precision, each strike releasing a burst of holy light. The souls it had consumed spiraled upward, freed from the beast’s insidious grasp.

The figure’s eyes locked onto Titanius, burning with righteous fury. "This ends now," he declared, his voice a calm yet unyielding command.

Titanius looked up, his lips curling into a sneer. "I thought I had finished you," he said, his wings flapping as he hovered in the air. His body was surrounded by swirling black mists, his presence exuding a suffocating darkness. "I’m pleased to see you back for more, Titavius."

The two opponents hovered in the sky, each surrounded by auras of opposing energy, Titanius’s shadows twisting around him like serpents, while Titavius radiated a bright, almost blinding light. Their power was palpable, a force that could reshape the very air around them.

The Angel of Life gripped his holy scythe tightly, his gaze fixed on his eternal rival, Titanius. His aura shimmered with divine light, but his heart was heavy with the weight of what was at stake. “You and Maelia have terrorized the mortals for far too long. I am here to end this. One way or another.”

Titanius laughed, a cruel, guttural sound. His black claymore swung in the air as he pushed himself back, widening the gap between them. “And what of the humans, Titavius? Fight me, and Maelia’s army will overwhelm them. Protect them, and I will strike you down when you least expect it.” He smirked, the shadows around him swirling. “You can’t defeat me without sacrificing your precious mortals.”

Titavius glanced over his shoulder, where the surviving humans stood, their eyes filled with reverence and hope. He let out a deep sigh, torn between his duty and his compassion for their frailty. Why must they be so weak? he thought. No. They are Aeliana’s creations. They are beautiful. I will protect them. His resolve hardened. He turned back to face Titanius. “Then I make my stand here, as a shield between the mortals and your abominations.”

Without another word, the two clashed.

Titanius struck first, moving with blinding speed as his black claymore swung toward Titavius. The two angelic beings collided with a force that shook the very heavens. Energy crackled in the air, life and death waging war in their every strike.

Where Titavius’s blade of light touched the earth, flowers bloomed, and the land grew lush with life. But where Titanius’s blade of death landed, the ground cracked and withered, life drained from the very soil. Their battle affected the world itself, twisting nature as the forces of life and death struggled for dominance.

The humans, feeling a surge of newfound hope, rose from their despair. They grabbed their weapons, moving to reinforce the gate that had been shattered by the abomination. Archers took their positions on the walls, infantry lined up, ready to face the oncoming horde. Even the priests, bolstered by a renewed faith, stood ready to support their warriors. As long as Titavius fought, they would fight.

Inside the castle chapel, the Grand Priest of Life, Orval, an old, frail man, gathered the highest-ranking clerics. He was determined. “Brothers,” he said, his voice steady despite the chaos outside. “Aeliana has given us an opportunity. We must not squander it.”

The clerics looked around, confused. “What plan do you have, Grand Priest?”

Orval smiled, his old eyes gleaming with certainty. “Look around. The rift between the realms of life and death has never been thinner. I pray Titavius can defeat Titanius, but if not... we don’t need to defeat him. We just need to imprison him.”

The clerics exchanged doubtful glances. “How, Grand Priest?” one asked.

“Impossible!” another shouted.

“We don’t have the power!” someone else cried.

“Only Tiandrus could have done this,” a young cleric muttered, “but he’s gone.”

Orval’s gaze hardened, and his voice rang out with conviction. “Yes, Tiandrus gave his life, but his spirit is with us, aiding us from beyond. We will channel his strength. The people outside this chapel depend on us! Aeliana will guide us, just as she guided Tiandrus.”

The clerics hesitated, but Orval’s unwavering faith began to calm their fears. One by one, they nodded. If not this plan, then what? They had no other choice.

Orval stepped forward, his hands raised as he began to channel the divine energies that flowed through him. The other clerics joined in, their voices rising in prayer, their combined power fueling the ancient spell that would, they hoped, imprison Titanius and give Titavius the chance to win the battle.

Outside, the army of the dead pressed forward, their twisted forms scaling the walls with terrifying determination. The undead were a perversion of nature, unnatural in every way. Skeletons with blackened wings soared over the walls, their hollow eyes gleaming with malice. Other creatures, half-rotted and decomposing, leapt unnaturally high, while massive, decaying bears lumbered forward, their faces half-gone, revealing jagged bone and torn flesh. They fought beside the zombies in a grotesque symphony of death. It was a desecration, a mockery of life itself.

Yet, the humans fought back, desperate and defiant. Each warrior, no matter how battered or broken, stood their ground. As soon as one fell, they rose again, reborn as one of the undead, only to be struck down again. But they didn’t stop. Their hearts and spirits remained unbroken. Deep down, they knew Aeliana was with them. Why else would the Angel of Life be here? She was watching, guiding, protecting. She had to be here, too.

Above them, the clash between Titanius and Titavius raged on. Their strikes were brutal, each blow a deadly dance. At first, the two angels were evenly matched, their holy and unholy powers meeting in a storm of life and death. But slowly, the scales began to tip. With a devastating strike, Titanius’s black claymore slammed into Titavius’s breastplate, sending the Angel of Life crashing toward the earth below, his body thudding against the ground.

Titavius grunted as he pushed himself up, the impact leaving him winded but unyielding. His holy scythe was still clutched tightly in his hands as he met Titanius’s gaze. The Angel of Death hovered above him, eyes gleaming with cruel satisfaction. “Your fight is futile, Titavius,” Titanius sneered. “Even now, the humans fall to Maelia’s army. You will be left alone, with no one to defend!”

For a moment, Titavius closed his eyes, feeling the soft whisper of Aeliana’s voice, like a breath against his ear. A faint smile tugged at his lips as he opened his eyes, meeting Titanius’s gaze with newfound resolve. “You underestimate them, Titanius. The mortals are more resilient than you think.”

Titanius laughed, his voice dark and mocking. “A resilient mortal can do little when their will to fight has been drained. How long until they break, Titavius? Soon, it will only be you and I. There will be nothing left to save. Nothing living will remain on this earth. And when you’ve finally worn yourself out, I’ll strike you down, too.”

Titavius exhaled, his breath steady as he focused on Aeliana’s whisper, feeling her presence like a beacon of light in the darkness. He flapped his wings, soaring into the sky with renewed determination. “Then come, Angel of Death. Show me your strength.”

As the two angels prepared for their final confrontation, the battle below continued to rage. The sound of steel against flesh filled the air, sharp and brutal. The screams of the dying, human and undead alike, echoed across the walls. The earth itself trembled with the clash of forces, both divine and corrupt.

In the chapel, the Grand Priest Orval and the clerics gathered their strength, their voices rising in unison as they chanted the ancient incantation. The spell they were weaving was delicate, powerful, and fraught with risk. Outside the chapel walls, the very world seemed to crack and shudder with the intensity of the battle. But in the hearts of the clerics, there was no doubt: this was their moment, their chance to change the tide.

In a blur, the two angels landed within the castle walls. Titavius, the Angel of Life, alighted with such force that the very ground beneath him trembled. A wave of holy light exploded from his body, incinerating hundreds of undead in an instant. Their ashes scattered into the wind, the scent of death vanishing as quickly as it arrived.

Titanius, the Angel of Death, landed beside him, his grin never faltering. “So, you bring me straight into the meat grinder,” he sneered. “Maelia’s army is endless. They will crush these mortals, just as they’ve crushed everything before them.”

Titavius smiled, eyes glowing with determination as he looked at the humans rallying behind him. “By the Light of Aeliana, I bless this land, I bless these people, and I bless their vigor and fortitude. Let their mortality be their strength, let their will be their power.” He turned to face Titanius, his voice firm. “Farewell, my rival.”

The chapel doors opened wide, and a brilliant flash of light poured out like a cascading river, flowing through the air in intricate patterns. It encircled Titanius, catching him off guard as the holy energy swept around him, pulling him into its grip. He growled, thrashing against the force, but the magic overwhelmed him. His body writhed in agony as his rival stood nearby, his holy magic unrelenting, joined by the prayers of the mortals and the will of the living.

The combined power was too much. Titanius’s body shattered under the weight of the spell, his form banished to a prison hidden from Maelia’s gaze. The land felt lighter in an instant, as if a great weight had been lifted from it.

Titavius, his face bathed in the golden light of victory, soared into the sky, releasing a wave of holy energy that spread like the sun's rays, sweeping away the dark clouds above. The sky cleared, the land revitalized. The undead army disintegrated in the light, their bodies turning to dust as the souls they had stolen ascended toward Aeliana’s warm embrace.

He looked upward, feeling her divine presence strengthen him as her power flowed through him. “Give me your strength, Aeliana!” he cried, and with her blessing, he landed back on the earth. Together with the Goddess of Life, they reached Maelia, the Goddess of Death, and trapped her within a holy prison. Though Maelia would never be destroyed, she would remain locked away for centuries, unable to touch the mortal world.

Titavius turned toward the remaining humans, who stood in awe, their eyes wide with reverence. His holy magic still thrummed through them, filling them with renewed strength and purpose. One by one, they dropped to their knees in gratitude, their voices rising in prayer.

“Recover and rebuild,” Titavius called out, his voice strong and clear. “Populate this land once more. Let this be an example of Aeliana’s love for you. She will never allow you to fall to death.” He smiled, a genuine warmth in his eyes. “We will always watch over you, mortals.”

With that, Titavius flapped his wings and ascended toward the heavens, leaving the humans to their newfound peace. He made one final vow, his voice carrying on the wind. “I will return if ever you need me again.”

Reviews

[Jacqueline]

I read your story and I really liked it. You have written a very good story. I really liked the setting of the story, and i have many specific ideas for your next story. Feel free to message me on Discord, jacquelineparson