He raised his right hand and snapped his fingers. Immediately, a figure in a black cloak emerged behind him, kneeling.

“I had high hopes for you. Talos..” General Marcus said coldly

Talos remained on one knee, trembling under the oppressive aura radiating from his father.

“But you failed me… on just one… simple… task. Do you know what task that I requested?

Talos remained silent.

General Marcus, turned, slammed his fist into the battle map table, and in one swift motion, unsheathed his sword. He raised it with a clear intent to sever his son’s head. But, stopped the moment the blade touched Talos’ skin, drawing a thin line of blood.

“Care to explain… my son?”

Talos looked up to his father with burning resentment in his eyes, then lowered his gaze to the ground. 

“I took the opportunity during the Karnorathians' assault on their stronghold to slip inside the castle and wreak havoc. But then… I came across a young woman with a wicker basket, she turned her head towards me. I blinked… and she was already inches away before me with her dragon-like claws tearing through the air. I barely escaped and managed to stab her left side before fleeing from her sight.”

“It's been nine years since that day and still you haven’t tracked them? Your report nine years ago was a lie?!” General Marcus snarled, stepping on Talos with such force that a small crater cracked beneath him. 

General Marcus knelt while his right foot was still on the head of Talos. He moved his head and whispered in the ear of Talos.

“If you fail again. Your sisters will be great for entertaining me and my men.”

Talos' eyes shot wide open with anger. He unsheathed his blade, ready to strike the neck of his father but only for General Marcus slammed his foot harder on his head, crushing any strength left in his arms.

“Don’t ever think of doing that ELF! If it weren't for my kindness, how do you think; YOU and your four sisters would survive this harsh reality?”

General Marcus lifted his boot, then grabbed onto Talos by the hair, forcing him to look into his brown eyes.

“Kill the last fucking dragon or I’ll change my mind.”

With that, he hurled Talos out of the tent. Talos landed hard in a muddy puddle, slowly pushing himself up. He looked back at the tent with resentment. Raising his right hand to his chest, he extended his index and middle fingers and vanished on the spot.

The cold spring breeze swept  through the oak trees surrounding the town of Nebo. It then drifted toward the cherry blossom tree, which had just begun its first bloom of the season. Beneath the tree, Father Howard lay asleep in its shade. A single blossom, carried by the wind, gently landed on his forehead. He slowly opened his eyes and took the flower from his brow. With the weariness of his fifty-five years, he rose and sat on the stone bench beside him. The cherry blossom trees stood at the center of a circular garden filled with red roses, daisies, and sunflowers. Encircling the tree’s base was a stone path, three meters wide, and along the edges of the pavement were three semi-circular benches, each also three meters in width, arranged in a gentle arc.

Howard twisted the cherry blossom flower, and looked up to the tree with eyes filled with emotions. He wore his daily priestly black garment with the amulet of Bathala that hung around his neck. He rose and walked to the trunk of the tree and touched it with his right hand. He lowered his head, closed his eyes for a second and kissed the tree. Afterwards he looked up and was mesmerised by the sway of the cherry blossom tree that danced with the wind. He then lowered his head and looked straight and walked to the left following the pavement that led him behind the tree where a plain tombstone was erected. It has no name or date of death written on it. Howard knelt and placed the cherry blossom flower above the tombstone.

“This has always been your favourite time of year. I’ve missed sharing the beauty of spring’s bloom with you.” 

He rose and made his way towards the church. Suddenly, he felt an intense surge of bloodlust behind him. He turned, dagger on his right hand; but no one was there, only just a black rose lay on the pavement floor. Howard knelt and picked up the flower, inspecting and scanning for any traces of mana. Then, a distant explosion echoed behind him. The rose withered to dust and was carried away by the wind. Howard stood, flicked his right hand, and a silver sheathed sword materialized from the air. Gripping the scabbard tightly, he rushed out through the church’s west entrance. Taking a sharp left onto the road leading to the cemetery, he caught sight of flashing lights and explosions engulfing the town. Thick smoke rose into the sky.

“Kael, Tania” he thought, rushing down the mound with his sword on his right hand.