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A Third Wish For Forrever
Woot. I'll write some worthles crud. Anyway, I like medival stories.
Chapter One
The End Of Forever
You're probably wondering who I am and why I am writing this. Who I am is not important, but I am writing this because today I will die. As we camp within this makeshift fortress, we are within sight of an enemy so powerful, perhaps not even the king's greatest army could withstand one attack. We are, by far, not the greatest army, commanding about forty soldiers in all - me included. Under the untrained leadership of a knight and a priest, our army has neither the power or proper leadership for this battle.
However, knowing we have no chance of survival - or surrender - I have accepted this fate. It could be worse, we could be fighting the undead. It is said the only fate worse than death is being raised as a mindless undead soldier. The undead are said to be between life and death. But by all accounts, they are dead. Their bodies are simply magically animated, a shell used by some magical force. There is no state between life and death.
We are not fighting undead. We face a foe much greater. There is nothing we can do. Except fight. Even if we are all destroyed, we can at least die knowing we killed as many of them as possible.
But what if none die? Will we have all fallen in combat for nothing? Why would this happen?
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