The skies were heavy with clouds, puffed and lazy, sliding through the deep blue above a radiant sun. The fields underneath the scorching heavens blew dried, crispy grass all over the dirt roads. Lucas shielded his emerald eyes from the blazing yellow above as he brought his hoe down into the parched soil. The eastern section of his little farm was void of any plant life, and he was working to solve that problem. The other sections of the farm were abundant with growing blossoms of tomatoes, corn, and onions slowly turning into edible delights. He hoped that the tomato crop would yield a good profit despite the harsh weather.

Lucas dropped his hoe after struggling with his land for ten minutes, deciding the soil would need some fertilizer for him to continue. He wiped the sweat building up on his brow, frowning as he felt his blond hair, sopping wet from salty perspiration. He headed through the empty field, dust clouding around his mud-caked worker boots, to the well near the corn mill. He bent over the rusty handle of the well and pulled it a few times with difficulty.

“Looks like she’s getting rustier everyday,” he said in a cheerful voice. “I’ll have to oil her later.” Lucas watched the wooden sprinklers lift out of the ground and spray water on his thirsty crops. With a satisfied smile, he went into his faded blue house and collapsed on a chair, sighing loudly.

Farming was a life that people eschewed too much. A family garden here, a berry bush by the playhouse there, but not anything that could feed a family for the rest of their lives. Lucas had the blessing of providing for everyone and receiving dismal pay in return for his efforts, but he didn’t complain. If he ever did get hungry, he could just pluck a potato or a pineapple from the ground and make a salad. Then again, tomato paste wouldn’t fix the holes in his roof. Though he prayed for rain, he didn’t want his kitchen to get flooded.

He stripped off his plaid workman’s shirt and dusty blue jeans, peeling off his soaked socks from his feet and throwing them in the hamper. He took a long and well-deserved cold shower, letting the cold droplets run down his tan body and cool his aching muscles. He whistled an old tune as he got out of the shower and pulled on a fresh plaid shirt and jeans pair, stretching and opening his curtains to take a look at his fruitful little farm.

He pawed through his pantry for something for dinner, and learning that he had nothing especially filling to eat, he grabbed a couple of bucks from the counter and went back into the heated daylight.

Lucas heard the clopping of hooves. His attention fell on a group of men crossing the bridge arching over the river, followed by a woman on a palomino. They rode into his land and stopped short of him, all of them looking at his simple demeanor with disdain. Lucas took note of their soldier uniforms.

“Mr. Reinmar,” one of them addressed with a sneer, “I was just telling these gentlemen here of your lovely little plot of land.” The speaker’s face was young, brown hair spiked in the back, with an amber gaze that made Lucas shiver.

Lucas replied in an acidic voice. “I’m sure you were. Tell me; is your advertising as skilled as your trickery, Axel?”

“How dare you insult General Mason!” one of the men said, and they all gathered around him, drawing their swords. “Your insolence means death!”

“Don’t spill his blood on his own soil, for God’s sake,” Axel spat harshly at the men. “We don’t even own this town yet.”

“And you never will, for our kingdom will destroy your troops. They will never succeed in taking this town.”
“Staphansia will fall in due time,” Axel assured. “Barlheim will crush your kingdom with our unstoppable raids.”

“Oh dear, please don’t act so violent,” the woman on the horse pleaded. She looked at the soldiers with worrisome eyes behind glasses.

Axel glared at her. “I don’t remember giving you permission to speak, Rosalie. A good wife should be seen and not heard.”

Lucas’ hands curled into fists. Rosalie was the sweet librarian whose passion for reading was outmatched by nothing. When Axel marched into the town at the command of his king he gladly obliged, taking all that he could reap from the town, including a wife who would never dare talk back to him.

“Anyway,” Axel began, sitting proudly on his dappled horse, “I expect this farm to have a bountiful crop by the end of the summer. Saying this, I mean that your crop will be ours by the summer.”

“Staphansia will stop you.” Lucas straightened up. “Rosalie will find the proper husband, and your forces will be destroyed. I would die before I let my farm be used to feed you Barlheim scum.”

“He speaks like a cur!” One of the soldiers raised his sword, but froze on Axel’s whistle.

“Don’t be a belligerent idiot,” the General spat at his subordinate. “You all—ride back across the border and remain there.” He slapped the butt of Rosalie’s horse. It neighed and took off towards the town, Rosalie clutching its neck tightly. He followed, easily passing by her slow gallop.

The soldiers complied and left for the border. Lucas sighed, looking at the sun sinking a creamy-pink sky.

What had made everything so different? The town was normally a bustling place, where neighbors were neighborly. It must have been the location, for living in a town at the border of two warring countries was a dangerous thing to do. Lucas had spent most of his life content and bored, until Axel came to town when the war began. How could he live his life without hassle if there was constant fear of being raided?

Lucas spent the rest of the evening working on his farm, letting the sun bake him and the moon cool him off. He fell asleep without effort.

The next morning was as blazing as the last. Lucas needed to go to town and buy some fertilizer for his fields, who were crying out for his attention, little tomatoes shouting “I’m thirsty” while shriveling into nothing. He preferred walking to town; he didn’t want his trusty steed Heather to collapse.

Dewdrop was quiet as it normally was in the times of war. A few ladies in their sundresses walked down the cobblestone roads gossiping, passing by men haggling with a shopkeeper for a good price on a block of cheese. Food was growing scarce, as fewer towns were willing to send food to Dewdrop in fear it would get stolen by the Barlheim soldiers that were starting to flock there.

For now, it looked as though Axel had sent them all away, and Lucas was grateful for it. He didn’t like to be heckled while going for a simple drink at the pub or a pound of rice.

The farmer passed by the library. Lucas peered through the window as he went by. He saw Rosalie standing behind the business counter, reading with intent, while browsers lazily stalked past shelves looking for an interesting read. He smiled, glad that Axel wasn’t bothering her, and continued on past neat little white houses.

Approaching the blacksmith, he slowed to a crawl when he saw a woman sitting on a stone block while pressing some iron object into a coal fire. From the short black hair to the sly blue eyes, he recognized her as Rachel. She wore a pair of cut-off shorts that barely covered her thighs and a straw hat kept her from being bothered by another source of heat.

Lucas grew red as he approached her beautiful, boyish form working out in the heat. She noticed him coming down the road and lifted up a hand covered with burn scars. “Hey there! Thought you’d never leave your farm again or something.” Her dialect was cruder than most. Ladies would have scoffed at her, but Lucas didn’t care.

“Hello Rachel.” He tried to sound pleasant to mask his excitement. “I didn’t think you’d be working today, in such heat...”

“Ah, a little heat won’t kill me! Pa said you gotta work every day otherwise you’re a slacker! Now, what brings you out here?” Despite her tomboyish manner, Lucas couldn’t help but notice how full and curly her eyelashes were.

“I have to go pick up some fertilizer. My soil’s been quite hard of late and I can’t seem to get it to yield to me.” It was a dream, talking to the angel like this.

“Pshaw, just kick the ground a few times and Mother Nature’ll get angry enough to blow it up. Then you can hoe all you want.” Finding a knife sitting next to her makeshift station, she began to cut off pieces of the metal carefully.

“I’ll be sure to give that method a try next time,” Lucas laughed. “What are you making?”

Rachel steadied the metal with a gloved hand while working. “I’m making throwing knives. Pa says we gotta have as many weapons as possible to give to the soldiers when they come to defeat Barlheim.”

“How do you not know the Barlheim soldiers will just take the weapons you’re making right now?” Lucas challenged.

Rachel paused. She looked up at him with an impatient gleam in her eyes. “Are you questionin’ my Pa’s words?”

Taken aback, he stepped into the road and nearly collided into a horse trotting down the cobblestone path. Rachel laughed as he apologized profusely to the annoyed rider.

“You know I was kiddin’, Lucas! Pa knows damn well those Barlheim bastards have their eyes set on our little smithy here. He says he’ll bring ‘em to their deaths if they even try anything.” She continued cutting the metal, letting it harden in a bucket of melted ice.

“Your father would say something like that,” he mused.

“Go get your fertilizer,” Rachel commanded.

Lucas mock-saluted and walked away. As he left Rachel, he harshly reprimanded himself on thinking that a mock-salute was funny, and not childish. Someday, he thought, dreamily staring at the cloud-dappled skies, I’ll marry Rachel. The war will be over, Axel will be dead, and everything will be content once again.

The grocer wasn’t generous with the fertilizer. Lucas begrudgingly paid the inflated price and left with two bags in his muscular arms. He noticed the bags he had purchased were emblazoned with Barlheim’s symbol, and frowned, half of him wanting to toss the bags in the river, but the other half knowing his field would pay for his pride. Instead, he trudged home, immediately getting to work feeding the fields with the nutritional mixture. He tried the satisfied soil again. The hoe still barely scraped the surface, and he concluded that he’d have to wait a few days for the effects to kick in.

Lucas watched a few children fishing across the river. Watching children play was a pastime of his, for he felt like he could shrink a foot and lose a few years by just seeing them splash around or play jacks. He wasn’t particularly old himself, but he felt a lot older than twenty-three.


One of the children, a boy with scraggly black hair, seemed to be having problems with his fishing pole. He bit his lip as he tugged on his line, which looked like it was made out of weak wrapping string. Lucas stood up, dropping the empty bags and the hoe, and walked over to them, opening Heather’s door as he went by and letting her run out into the fields, whinnying happily. The children watched him and the horse in awe, and Lucas smiled sadly, hoping that their expectations weren’t so low that they’d think a simple farmer performing simple tasks was so spectacular.

“What’re you three doing?” he asked, slouching down and looking at their excuses for fishing poles, which appeared more like roughly-hewn branches than anything.

“We’re gonna wrangle the legendary 30-pound catfish from this here lake,” a boy with many cuts on his legs stated proudly.

“Is that so?” Lucas put his hands on his hands, gloved hands stained with dirt. “Well, I’m not thinking you’d find the legendary catfish by my farm. It’s too good to be near the likes of me.”

The children laughed at his humor, but remained intent on their job. He enjoyed their determination and concluded they’d be hard workers when they were older, if they still acted like kids now.

The black-haired boy struggled with his hook. The farmer noticed a brightly-colored fish dart through the crystal stream, away from the hooks.

“Tsk. You three are being too loud. You can’t judge a fish so quickly, boys. They’re smarter than you think. If you don’t give them a chance to be fooled, they won’t come near you.”

“Well, you do it then if you’re so good,” the challenged.
Lucas smiled. “I can give it a try, boys.” He took the fishing pole from them and steadied it, casting it into the lake. He noted how weak the string was. Poor boys didn’t understand that the fish wouldn’t trust a wobbly little line like the one they were using.

He waited for a few minutes, patient as always. The boys jeered at his apparently poor performance, though Lucas didn’t understand how someone can be a poor fisher by having patience. He jerked the line every now and then, enticing the fish to come to eat a seemingly harmless meal. Finally, his waiting paid off as a trout bit onto the end of the hook. Lucas pulled back just a little, and then withdrew the line quickly, the trout helplessly caught on the hook. The boys watched in awe as the fish flopped feebly on the ground.

“He must be twenty pounds, mister!” the leader gawked.
Lucas laughed, knowing it was barely ten. “I hope you have a good dinner, boys. Remember, patience is key.”
“Gosh sir, don’t you think you should take the fish cuz you caught it?”

“Of course not. I’m not a thief. I’m giving this to you.”
Lucas heard a laugh nearby, a womanly sound that was pleasant through the country air. Turning, he saw the flash of a simple dress and a flash of a dazzling smile. Rosalie’s pale, but soft face brightened the delinquent stares of the boys. Giving them a warning eye, the boys stayed out of the conversation, not missing a chance to take a gander at the curvaceous librarian.

“Now who do you think you’re laughing at, ma’am?” Lucas asked, mock affronted.

Her melodious laugh rang through the air. “Well sir, I’m not quite sure. Perhaps it’s your luck at fishing that happens to amuse me so.”

Lucas’ pride deflated a little, but he remained cheerful. “You sure know how to beat on a man’s pride.” He noticed a bruise on her neck, and darkened. “I don’t suppose you got that from Axel?”

He didn’t need to point for her to know what he was speaking of. She hid it with her hand and looked away. “It’s nothing. Just something I got to deal with, I guess.”

“Once Staphansia pushes through Barlheim’s troops in the north, they’ll be able to enter Dewdrop. We’ll be fine. Our own country wouldn’t abandon us.” Lucas wasn’t entirely sure about that, however. Dewdrop seemed more of a defensive buffer than a part of Staphansia at this point.

Rosalie smiled. “You’re right. They wouldn’t just let us die. We all have aspirations we want to uphold. Staphansia has given us the opportunity, and we must make the most of it. I’ll get my book published, no matter what Axel says about it. He doesn’t control me, I can break away from him...” she cast a glance at Lucas before looking out at his farm. “I just...I’m just not sure about how my plan will work out.”

Lucas watched the boys run away, laughing and throwing rocks at each other while carefully holding onto the fish. “What would get in the way?”

“Human will.”

That seemed like an eerie phrase for the sweet woman to be uttering. “Human will? Are you planning on kidnapping somebody?”

A humorless laugh escaped her lips. “He’d probably see it that way. Anyway, I must be going. Axel will want me back when he returns. It was nice speaking to you, Lucas. Let’s make these dates last longer!” She twirled her dress playfully as she turned to leave, and headed back up the road.

“Wait, Rosalie, who are you talking about? Who’s he?” What she had said didn’t make a bit of sense to him. “Why does she have to be so cryptic...”

“She’s a librarian. They’re paid to sound smart.”

Lucas turned, smirking at the new voice that had come out of nowhere. His best friend, Isaac Loire, stood with his hands on his hips and a goofy smile on his face. He was an unnaturally light man for the summertime, preferring to stay indoors and paint. His occupation was spilt all over his pants, in a variety of vibrant colors, and his black hair was far from proper.

“If you’re going to look like that out here, at least wear a hat,” Lucas said to his eccentric friend.

“Shut up,” he remarked. “At least the ladies like this baby.” He stroked his dagger sheathe, also covered in pain, lovingly.

“These so-called ladies probably think that’s where your brushes go, with the way you keep it. Please tell me the blade isn’t bright green either.” Though he was a good man, Lucas couldn’t help but be embarrassed by Isaac’s complete lack of care to his appearance.

“I’m not going to say those ladies would prefer a man with manure crusted on his boots,” Isaac countered. “Are you busy doing your farm thing? Russell asked me to fetch you about something he found while excavating that temple ruin by the edge of town.”

Lucas shook his head. “I’m not so busy, no. The plants can wait an hour, believe me.”

They headed over to see Russell. Russell Curtiss was an aging archaeologist who had moved to Dewdrop a few years back in response to the rumor that Dewdrop was built over a popular watering hole for the dinosaurs. He brought his professional equipment, books, wisdom, and his twenty-year old daughter Kendra. Kendra was dreamy like Rosalie, but she was more superstitious, always consulting the local fortune-teller before going anywhere. Despite her oddities, she was still a busty beauty with silky black hair and sharp amber eyes.

Upon arriving at the old temple he was excavating, they could definitely see signs of disturbance. Tools were lying everywhere, along with blankets filled with various tokens of the past, ranging from broken dolls to triangular coins. Lucas and Isaac carefully stepped over the collections while heading into the destroyed building.

The temple was one dedicated to gods of the past, though the statues had long since been taken and sold. With the roof gone, light poured into the complex. The paint had peeled off and only the wooden frame remained standing, with chunks of it missing and providing even more light. Grass grew through cracks on the floor, while a few raccoons scampered along the top of the frame, glaring at the new intruders.

Russell was bent over, examining what appeared to be the speaker’s platform. He heard the shuffling of footsteps and turned around, face almost black from the soot in the building. “My boys, you have come to me!” He stood up, wiping soot off his blackened khakis, and gamboled over to them.

Lucas avoided a hug. “Russell, I’m glad to see you, but I will have to say I don’t wish to get any dirtier than I am!”

“Boy, anyone other than me would take that as an insult!” Russell scolded. “Isaac, did you tell him about the discovery?”

“I was going to leave that to you, pops.” Isaac stepped onto the altar, and beckoned Lucas.

Lucas walked over to it, getting on his knees and looking around. “I don’t see anything.”

Russell sneezed from Lucas’ sudden drop to the floor, black sprinkles gathering in his graying hair. “It’s over in there,” he spoke, moving the wood from behind the altar.

A gaping hole was staring at them, moving deep and wide to some unknown location. Lucas stared at it in awe and looked at Russell, confused. “What’s this mean? Was there something at the end?”

“Kendra and I walked for what felt like hours! Yes, that’s right, we walked. The tunnel’s extremely large. We came to the end finally, and boy was I thanking the lord it was the dead of night and not the middle of the blessed day!” Russell’s large brown eyes bore into Lucas.

“What’s that mean?” the farmer asked, excited.

“We were in the middle of a Barlheim army camp, we were.”

Lucas lost his balance, falling in the hole loudly. Isaac pulled him out hastily, shaking him. “What the hell was that for? You don’t need anyone hearing you on the other side!”

He didn’t pay attention to his friend, staring at the tunnel in fear and inspiration. A few hours away were the enemy. If only the Staphansia army was in Dewdrop! “We need to alert the army. They can go through this tunnel, and destroy the camp! With the border fence, the only way Barlheim can effectively pass through to Dewdrop is through this hole. We’ll have them caught like rats for Staphansia to take them!”

“That’s all fine and dandy,” Russell drawled, “but the army’s more than a few notches away. More like a few days at the least it’ll take them to get here. The tunnel’s fresh. We can collapse the tunnel, but it’ll take me a few days by myself. By then, Barlheim’ll be on my face.”

“Hey, if we prevent an enemy invasion then that’s fine with me! We already have enough of the enemy here. We don’t need more.” Isaac spat on the ground. “I hate Barlheim—and Axel especially.”

It was then Kendra appeared in the temple, wearing tight khakis and a white shirt covered in dirt. A straw hat kept her eyes out of the sun, and her black locks were in pigtails. She smiled at the boys. “Hello Luke, hello Isaac. Did you show them the discovery yet, Father?”

“I did! They’re agreeing with me that we should collapse the tunnel. I’ll have to speak to the mayor about this, but there shouldn’t be any objection to it. Are you hungry yet, dear?”

“Maybe in an hour I will be,” Kendra stated. She turned her attention back to Lucas and Isaac. “I think the reason they haven’t attacked yet is because they haven’t gotten the order. Axel has been hanging around Rachel’s shop a lot. I think it’s because he’s waiting until they’ve produced a good enough amount of weapons to seize.”

“They’re not planning on taking us directly, hmm?” Isaac looked at Lucas warily. “We should go and start gathering people. We’ll collapse the cave and prevent their ‘surprise’ attack.”

The farmer smirked at the thought. “I can’t wait to see Axel’s ugly face when no one comes. Oh, how I’ll make him suffer for everything he’s done to Dewdrop. Marrying Rosalie, blackmailing the mayor, treating my crops like they’re meant to be strewn all over the streets...”

“Using my father as a wealth collector and stealing all his discoveries,” Kendra added to the list. “I’ll never forgive Barlheim for the way they treat our village. That doesn’t mean I’m particularly fond of our own army. If they were smarter, they’d know to come here instead of ignoring us.”

The light reflected Russell’s sad expression, outlined by the soft wrinkles of his face. “Kendra, you should learn to be more patriotic. Staphansia needs as much support as it can get. I’m not here to lecture, however, just to serve this village in the best way I can. I will tell the mayor of my discovery, and we shall meet tomorrow night if everything goes well.”

Kendra placed the wood in front of the hole. “Tomorrow night...that will teach them to victimize our village. Lucas, I will fetch you tomorrow evening. Don’t be busy.”

A compliant nod and she was gone. Lucas bade the old man goodbye and left with Isaac, watching the icy stream glimmer in the crimson sun. The water looked like flowing blood against the rays, unsettling but mysteriously beautiful.

“Soon, Rosalie,” Lucas promised. “Soon, you’ll be free from that tyrant. The army will be paralyzed, and Axel will fall.”

“You care about her a lot, don’t ya?” Isaac cracked his knuckles while watching the stars blink above.

“Sure I do. She’s been good to me. If she’s got a book she can’t get out because of this war, then I’ll end it so she can get famous.”

A laugh escaped his best friend. Lucas turned a grassy gaze towards him. “What’s so funny?”

“Keep talking like that and people will start thinking you’re smitten with the girl,” he spoke. “You may be all dreamy over Rachel but you never act like it.”

The farmer never thought about it before. He did love Rachel; and Rosalie too for that matter. Yet he’d never felt any romantic urges towards the librarian. “Let people think what they want. ‘Sides, we got a war to worry about. I have to postpone my dreams until everything’s over.”

“...You might be getting her hopes up.”

“What?” Isaac’s words were as strange as Rosalie’s had been earlier that day. Instead of hanging around to answer him, Isaac motioned to his house. “Looks like I’ve gotta get off the train here. I’ll see ya.”

“Wait, don’t run away from me!” He was already in his house before Lucas could interrogate him. With a shrug, he headed home. Personally, he was glad to be alone. The day’s events had kicked his brain into gear and he was trying to sort everything out. What would happen if they break through the collapse? How far would they destroy the tunnel? Would Axel find out about this act of rebellion? Too many questions circulated through his mind as he laid his head down on his pillow that night, yet he fell asleep almost immediately.

The next morning seemed to fly by. Whirs of blue and red were Lucas watering his tomatoes, a whir of honey-brown was Heather galloping around the field, a basket filled with onions at her side, and a whir of garnet was the old corn mill working its magic to produce cornmeal.

That afternoon, Lucas paid a visit to the smithy. He marveled at the number of weapons Rachel and her father had produced in only a day. Kendra’s opinion from yesterday floated into his head and he grew worried. “Has Axel been to see you?” he asked her as she tested the handle of an axe.

“He was here earlier. He complimented my efficient skills. I told him not to bother with flattery,” she said with a smirk. “If you’re wondering, the mayor went to see us at the dead of night yesterday, sayin’ we was gonna collapse a tunnel built by the Barlheim bastards. So, we took the liberty of makin’ tools.”

Lucas smiled. His heart lifted at how eager she was to help. “Good, so we’ll be seeing you tonight?”

“You sure will. I invited Rosalie, but she said it wouldn’t be safe if she left. Axel could find out. I can’t wait until that freak loses his throne. Rosalie can finally propose to the man she’s loved forever.”

That bit of information came as a surprise to him. “She’s already found her soul mate?”

The beautiful blacksmith laughed. “If he accepts. I’m sure he will.”

Lucas looked outside, at the passerby. “...Whoever he may be, I hope they live happily together.” He left the smithy afterwards, thinking. Rosalie would soon have a future with the man she loved. Now, all Lucas needed was enough money to buy a ring for Rachel.

For some reason, he had been thinking about the future a lot. When the war began, Lucas was just focused on getting by. Now, he felt like a dreamy teenager who was hoping for a big house and a beautiful wife and many children. It was then the farmer decided he had a long life ahead of him. He’d make the most of it.

The clouds were gathering around the sun, casting shadows on the earth. Dewdrop had been without relief from the heat for days, so the cool breezes that accompanied the coterie above were a pleasant break from the blazing summer air. Lucas headed for his house, passing by the library like he did every day. He saw Rosalie sitting amongst a group of children, reading from a picture book and holding up the illustrations to appease the kids’ imaginative appetites.

“...You’ll be free soon,” he murmured.

The rest of the day was dedicated to absolute nothing. Lucas just sat at the river, thinking. The boys didn’t come to fish that day. He wondered if they would be at the temple that night.

The moon was high in the sky when he heard the grass crunch behind him. He saw Kendra’s pretty face reflected in the river, slivers of moonlight illuminating her figure.

She squatted down next to him. “Are you having fun?”

“...Not particularly, just wondering if I’ll ever get out of the farm. It’s enjoyable, but I’d rather have a family.”

“You worry about such interesting things at dire times,” Kendra noticed.

“Is that a bad thing?” he asked her seriously.

“No. It’s optimistic. You’re still thinking about your life. You’re not one of those people who put their thoughts on hold and their dreams on hiatus until all the troubles in the world are over.”

“Don’t think that. I’m not optimistic at all. Just going with the flow.” He stood up. “Did you come to collect me?”

She followed, her pigtails flipping behind her head. “Why, yes. Isaac’s already there.”

They walked to the temple, quietly. He wished he knew Kendra well enough to hold a conversation, yet her presence was enough to make him feel comfortable. The insects buzzed amidst the forested night, coupling with the crunching grass underneath their boots. Men were whooping and conversing around the temple, lit up by makeshift torches placed dangerously close to the wooden frame. Lucas noticed the fishing boys and waved; they responded with a delighted yell.

“Quite popular, are you Mr. Reinmar?” Kendra joked.

Russell stood at the mouth of the tunnel, holding a lamp inside to light up the black void that traveled to the Barlheim camp. Isaac was using his hammer as a cane, leaning on it with a bored expression. Lucas and Kendra went up to him.

“Why hasn’t anyone started?” the farmer asked, the fires snapping at the night. The smoke curled up towards the cloudy sky.

“We’re figuring out exactly to approach it. We don’t want anyone buried alive,” Isaac said. “Plus, we wanted everyone here.”

The sky lit up for a second, lightning crackling and splitting the sky in half. Lucas felt a raindrop moisten his hair. “The rain will loosen the dirt. Luck is on our side.”

Kendra smiled, her pretty face warm from a nearby torch. She turned her head and nodded to Russell. “Father, you should go in now.”

Russell coughed and jumped into the tunnel, his lamp giving everyone his location. He walked deep into the hole, until his face was barely discerned from the darkness had the lamp decided to go out. He grunted as he started hammering on the walls. Dirt loosened and crumbled to the ground.

Everyone waited, some whispering to each other as Russell continued up the tunnel to loosen the walls. His lamp jangled and echoed in the tunnel, making Lucas’ skin crawl. The clouds were releasing their loads on the workers, rain slowly dampening their clothes.

Russell paused in the tunnel, face now visible to the ones closest to the hole. He turned towards the deeper part where he had been ten minutes before and held up his lamp. There was a faint rumbling in the blackness, though the sky had not cracked thunder for a while. The old man backed up and turned around, running to the mouth of the cave with a horrified expression across his wrinkled face. “Get out of here! They’re coming!”

Pandemonium seized the workers. With yells, they took off, slipping on the wet ground and splattering everyone with mud; still, they heaved themselves up with their working tools and ran sloppily into the night. A man accidentally knocked over a torch as he scrambled away, setting the temple and the surrounding forest on fire.

The rumbling turned in coherent yelling as Barlheim soldiers cascaded down the tunnel like a waterfall of steel. Isaac unsheathed his dagger immediately and sunk it into the chest of the soldier that came out first, provoking a mad cry from his fellow men. Swords were unsheathed, and the workers who were trapped descended upon the enemy with a disorganized battle cry, beating them with their hammers, pitchforks, and whatever they could get their hands on.

Isaac withdrew his dagger and flicked the blood into the eye of a soldier accosting him. He stumbled back and Isaac delivered him the same fate as his friend. Lucas grabbed Kendra and pulled her behind him, grabbing the torch and swinging it at a soldier. “Get back!” he commanded, nearly tripping into the fire that was quickly trapping them in the temple.

“Father!” Kendra cried through the screaming and bloodshed. She broke away from Lucas’ protective grasp and ran into the battle. Lucas yelled for her, thrusting the torch at the soldier before going after her.

She had snatched Russell and had leapt over the flaming frame. Lucas followed and stood above the old man, who was unconscious but uninjured. She held him, tears pouring down her face.

A horse’s whinny caught Lucas’s attention, now that he was away from the riot and it had become muffled background noise. The torch burning faithfully at his side, it cast its light upon none other than Axel Mason. He sat high on his steed, looking down at the three with a sneer.

“I should have known the rats were out to play.” He trotted around them, the horse jerking its neck to avoid the sparks coming from Lucas’s torch. “I was sitting at home, eating dinner with my lovely wife, when I hear one of my men rapping at the door. He’s spitting out some incoherent nonsense about the secret tunnel being destroyed, and sure enough, there’s smoke coming from the direction of the temple. Of course, I’m sure my men on the other side must have seen it before me, because I gave them no orders to attack. That damn woman got in my way, preaching that I couldn’t go and kill innocent people, that this town would never be mine...” He unsheathed his sword.

Lucas’s eyes widened when he saw the blood coating the blade. The rain pouring from the sky collided with the weapon, turning the heaven’s tears red. “You...you didn’t...Rosalie...”

Axel reached into his pocket and threw something at him. It made painful contact with his face and he felt blood bubble up out of the fresh cut. Casting his eyes down at the ground, the rain beat against the delicate beauty of a silver ring, cut to fit a man’s hand. The rubies dotting his face dripped on the ring as he bent down and picked it up, making no sound.

“She was going to give that to you, she said. Said you’d make her the happiest woman in the world and that I was to go to hell. It seems as if she’s there before me, the wench. And to think, her friend was there for her. Yes, that blacksmith girl, Rachel, came to tell her that the ring was finished.” He let out a roar of laughter. “Course, she was determined to get to you before me. It wasn’t hard to catch up to her. Women have their...certain frailties.”

Lucas shook; his fingers went up to clutch his head. Too much was whirring through his mind; he could barely stand up straight. Rosalie had been fine when he passed her by that afternoon, and Rachel...she was burned in his heart, laughing and joking around with him and Isaac, not caring to be girly, just caring to have fun.

His dreams; where had they gone? The war was supposed to put them on the shelf, not kill them entirely. He couldn’t reach them. The dreams were up in heaven with Rosalie and Rachel. Now all he had was the present, and it was cold and confused.

Isaac came running to them from the fight, blood-soaked. “Lucas, what are you doing out here?”

Axel’s horse faced him, his sword wet and ready. “The artist boy. Pity you didn’t hear my little oration earlier, it would have rendered you still as the farmer.”

Isaac’s brow furrowed. “What’s he talking about?”

Lucas couldn’t speak. Salty tears were threatening to douse his lashes. It took all his energy to keep his misery inside. Kendra spoke up. “Your friends, Rachel and Rosalie, are dead. Axel killed them.”

The same air that had trapped Lucas captured Isaac. Instead of standing paralyzed, however, he swung his dagger, fury written on his features. “You bastard!” he screamed, advancing on him violently.

Axel watched him, amused. Lucas snapped out of his coma and lurched forward, torch at the ready. “Isaac, stop!”

Kendra’s hand wrapped around his arm and yanked him back, just as Isaac stumbled to avoid stabbing his friend. She pressed Lucas’ back into her and held him back as he screamed the painter’s name, watching Axel’s blade run through his chest.

Isaac dropped the dagger, body seizing. He trembled, looking at Axel. “You...ruined our lives...” blood poured down his tongue, staining his lips red as his chin became sticky with the red liquid, twitching when the General pulled his sword from Isaac’s drained body. He hit the ground, a pool of blood gathering around him.

Lucas went limp against Kendra, barely staying up if not for her arms. The tears that had been teasing his eyelids broke through and he wailed harder than the cruel skies above. The flames that had labeled his torch a deadly weapon receded into nothingness as the rain beat them mercilessly. The torch fell to the ground, the last sparks of the fire’s life sizzling away.

Just like the earlier day, everything whizzed by him. When his green eyes, now dull, came once again into focus, dawn was breaking, and he was standing in the burned-down temple with Kendra and all the other survivors, handcuffs around his wrists.

“...As a result of your crime against the now-Barlheim province of Dewdrop, you are to be sent to prison camps to carry out your punishment by working for the Republic of Barlheim,” a low-ranking officer was telling them, trotting by the soldiers on his horse.

“Lucas?” Kendra looked at him, hands also chained.

He lifted his head slowly, and saw she had Rosalie’s ring clutched in her palm.

“...Keep it. I’ve got no use for it.”

“Lucas, please.” She looked desperate. “Show me some of that optimism you had last night. I want to see it, so I can feel like there’s some hope where we’re going.”

He chuckled humorlessly. “There is no hope. Rosalie had hope, had dreams. She wanted to publish her novel...and marry me. All that’s left of her dreams is that ring you have. Rachel wanted to be a good blacksmith and a good friend. By being a good friend, she ended up dead. Isaac, he wanted to live freely and paint. Instead, he painted the ground with his blood. You, whatever your dreams are, they will never come true. And me? My dreams are dead like my friends. I’ll never marry. My hopes, my life...they’re nothing now. All that thinking I did was wasted. Where we’re going, there is nothing to dream about. I wanted to live a long life.” A grim understanding pervaded him. “...My dreams have died, and I will die in that prison camp. I don’t know how...but I’m not going to survive longer than a month.”

Kendra said nothing. She saw a group of captured workers being forced into the tunnel, her father amongst them. Tears fell down her cheek. “...That...wasn’t very helpful,” she laughed miserably.

Lucas didn’t pay attention to her. He merely stared ahead at the burned forest, feeling someone prod his back. He stepped forward and felt fingers bury into his hair, pulling him back and around to enter the tunnel.

He couldn’t see anything ahead of him, yet he still marched dryly. He longed to see the sky again, to watch the sun break open the egg of a new day, and spill pink and cream onto the canvas. When he thought of canvas, he thought of Isaac. His heart sunk into his chest. In the prison camp, the arrival of the sun meant the arrival of more suffering. Each day would become loathed.

Still, he walked, knowing if he stopped he would be beaten. He couldn’t go backwards and he didn’t want to go forward, but he couldn’t be stuck doing nothing. Yet, everything he did from there on would mean nothing.

There wasn’t anything in his everything anyway.

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