Miharra's Battle
#2 of Bursts of imagination.
This is something random I've been piecing together from little bits of imagination here and there and I've been putting it from my mind to words on paper and screen in what free time I have. For those who give it a read feel free to give me your thoughts if you want. I like to write and I want to improve so I'd really appreciate any feedback given.
A lone female figure stood amidst a field of dead bodies, wrapped in a bloodstained cloak with hood drawn up and covering their face from view, left hand gripping tight a long handle glaive with blade painted red. Over a small hill from the west came the sound of marching feet of numbers great enough to make the ground tremble, a small group cresting the hill to cast their gazes over this field of death. The leader of this group, a man clad in heavy armor touched with gold and etched with runes, stepped forth and bellowed out. "Miharra Kantae!!! Your people called you their goddess yet our acolytes were able to sap away much of your power with relative ease! Your people are all gone, dead at the feet of the Kortollan Empire! Surely you must feel it in your very being given your nature yet you continue to fight! Why!?"
The figure turned to face this man and called back. "My people may be gone but as long as I yet live my world has a chance to begin anew. If I were to give up I would have my powers stripped and my life taken. If I am to die then all those souls denied life cannot find peace and won't be returned to the cycle."
"Once again you speak of a cycle as if it is gods and goddesses that perpetuate the coming and going of souls yet the world our empire calls home is evidence against this!"
"The fact that you speak those words shows how little you know even about your own world. Bring your blades to bear! Send against me your mightiest war beasts! Let charge forth the armies you think undefeatable! By my blade your empire will find it's match and it will crumble under the heel of my boot as I exact divine justice upon you all!!!" The figure called out as Miharra brought up their right hand and gripped their cloak before ripping it from themselves and throwing the cloth aside. Their form revealed there stood a woman of pale skin clad in light armor of silver in looks covering their entire body save for their head, long black hair flowing freely in the gusts of wind that currently plagued the field. From their back rose wings of blue feathers, the tips of her feathers tinged pink, her form dotted with marks of blood that had seeped her cloak.
"Your people thought you a benevolent being and one of love and caring but here you stand in the wake of death and you are the sole perpetrator of this massacre. How does it feel to go against all you once stood for? Think of that now for this day shall be your last and this world will become ours!" With that the armored man drew his sword and raised it high, mere seconds passing before roaring battle cries sounded out from behind the hill, the thunder of hundreds of thousands of men charging forth starting to shake the very ground underfoot.