I stand on a hill, gazing out at the vast land that had been a battlefield only a few hours before. Smoke rises from the ground in patches, twisting in the area, creating a dense cloud above our heads. Bodies and weapons lay scattered across the field, and soldiers move among them looking tired and worn out, their clothing covered in blood and dirt, stained swords hanging from their waists or backs. Victory, for what it was, had come at a steep price.

The world burns and the trembling of the earth fades away. I should be focusing on the here and the now. But I can’t help but think about the future. Humanity will inevitably rebuild. Nations will rise and fall. The world will move forward, barely glancing backwards to this moment. How will the world view this event years, decades, or even centuries from now? Will they even remember it? No-one stops to think about that. Except me. I can’t help it.

I’ve always been one to gather information, learning everything I can. My network of spies will probably attest to that. I never used the information as leverage or anything. I just gathered it, documented it, and added it to my collection. This war had forced me to put that hobby to the side, temporarily. I don’t think anyone was spared from that, now that I think about it.

Regardless, I think that if there was ever a time to stop and document events, it is now. While it is still fresh in our minds. The world deserves to know what transpired here. All of it. We owe it to ourselves, as well as those that we lost in this terrible war.

I will endeavor to remove myself from the picture, as much as possible. This story will be spoken by the mouths of survivors and documented carefully; the exact wording intact. I fear that this task may be too big. I may have to depend on my network.

I find myself straying. I will take my leave and begin my task. May Lucerna guide my hand.