Can mere words ever save someone?

  Do they wield the power to rescue a soul from jaws of despair, like small embers of a dying lamp, barely lighting the darkest nights.

  After all, words are nothing but a collection of sounds, a series of symbols with no real power to alter the world. They cannot stitch wounds, halt a disease’s spread, or turn back the unyielding march of time. “Stay strong”, they say, but strength is not conjured by just syllables. “Don’t give up,” they encourage, yet they cannot lift the burden from weary shoulders. “It will be alright,” they assure, even when loneliness devours us whole.

  In the end, words fail. When action is needed the most, they are desperate grasps at straw. Fragile, fading and powerless. They scatter like leaves when winds of hardship blow, leaving behind no trace of their existence.

  That’s why, I refuse to believe in them. It is not the fragile threads woven together where our salvation lies, but in actions. Words may stir the heart and kindle the spirit, but they are not the architect of change. It is silent resolve, the unspoken determination and action that rises above the noise.

  …

  The boss’s words cut through Thelian’s fear and doubt, steadying his shaken spirit. Amidst the brewing chaos, his voice stirred fire within the withered souls.

  “General....Tell me, what can I do?”

  Thelain’s voice barely escaped his lip, a feeble murmur swallowed by the suffocating weight of silence and turmoil. It echoed the hollowness inside him- a sound shaped by hopelessness.

  “Evacuate all civilians to the western camps” the general commanded sharply. “At the same time, order an immediate retreat for all personnel within the three-hundred-meter radius of the dark beam.”

  Boss paused, his eyes like flint.

  “Finally, barricade every route leading to western camps. Can you handle this much?”

  “.........Is this all, General? What of the—”

  “We rally their captain.” Boss cut in. “Dispatch a message to the active forces within the city. They are to fall back here at once.”

  “The esoterica conjuration is a mysterious spell. The pentagon is only a base, much like parchment, it's what you write upon it that decides the outcome. In this instance, the nature and extent of sacrifice. And even I cannot foretell what will rise from that darkness.” The boss completed, his voice low

  Then, placing his hand on Thelian’s shoulder, Boss continued: “But to fight it— that is where our duty, or perhaps yours truly lies.”

  “General..I understand,” he replied, his smile bitter, his eyes reflecting a quiet acceptance of the path laid before him. “I will do what must be done. I cannot forget my solemn oath to Goddess Walburga” he responded, as his jaw clenched, the muscles in face tightened as resolve settled into his bones, heavier than dwarven steel.

  The captain, bolstered by the weight of his responsibility, stood and turned to face his men. As he lifted his gaze, the faces of his comrades met him – tense, grim and breathless. He knew he couldn’t fail them, and he had to speak. They looked to him, their captain, for guidance in this dire hour.

  “O’ Warriors of Eden” Thelian’s voice rose, clear and loud. “We stand on the edge of destruction, as darkness marches on our homeland. There will be chaos, and blood and yes there will be death. But are we mere leaves, to be swept away by the cruel winds of fate?”

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  Then, he drew his word and pointed it skyward.

  “No!

  We are the storm! We are the raging tempest that will uproot this evil and tear it from our land.”

  A roar answered him — deafening, ragged and defiant. As a chain of determination spread among the ranks, steel met steel, the sound of swords unsheathing in unison. Thelian stepped forward, his armor shining in the dim light of darkness that now swallowed the once serene sky.

  “Today, we do not fight for glory or status. We fight for Eden. We fight for survival—for every child who dreams of a future, every elder who lives to tell tales of our past. To arms, my friends! Let it be us to carve destiny with the edge of our blades and the courage in our hearts”.

  …

  It was a spectacle.

  With a thunderous roar, the weary warriors erupted, their spirits ignited by his fervent call. The ground trembled beneath their feet as they prepared to march toward the darkness, ready to face whatever horrors awaited them.

  The captain and his elite guards gathered around, as the boss explained the strategy. Notably, five of the guards stood out. Four elves and one dwarf.

  Well, I assumed he was a dwarf, mostly because of his short stature, which was probably discriminative… but that’s how I remembered them.

  Not that I was tall myself.

  That aside, what caught my eye was their weapon of choice - unmistakably, three of them carried what you’d call staves. The other two were different. The dwarf carried a massive shield, clearly the tank of the unit. The elf, interestingly, carried a harp which gave me the impression that he might be a healer, though I couldn’t be sure.

  While spellcasting didn’t specifically require weapons, mediums — as they were often called—were used to amplify and precisely control spell power. Mediums varied widely in their types and function.

  Wands, similar to staves, were more versatile in one-on-one combat but lacked the durability to channel high order spells. Staves, on the other hand, were the more common mediums, capable of conducting powerful magick. Whereas, relics and grimoires offered greater mobility, as they didn’t require constant holding, but they came with a catch. Their acceptance rate was slow – as relics and grimoires chose their master's by their own volition. This earned them the name — living artifacts.

  After laying out the broader strategy to all, the boss turned toward us.

  “Ludwig and Izel, you’ll lead the charge,” he commanded, his voice firm. “Take one unit of Eden knights and follow them with the nightshades. Their lives are entrusted to you. Protect them.” His eyes locked with both, leaving no room for doubt.

  “Ah—uh,” escaped Ludwig’s lips, a grunt of dissatisfaction and reluctance, but even then, he obeyed.

  As Ludwig and Izel moved to rally the troops, the captain stayed behind to organize the remaining guards. Moments later, the boss approached us, his steps slow and heavy. He stopped just a few centimeters from Fenris and me, then placed a firm hand on Fenris’s shoulder.

  Then, in his raspy voice, he said:

  “Fenris I will leave early inspection to you. Take Gurit and sprint to the source of the light. There’s something we must do before the destined battle,” the lizardman explained.

  As the words left his lips, he and Fenris locked eyes in silence. Then, with a sigh, the boss led him a short distance away, just far enough that I couldn’t hear their conservation.

  I watched their faces instead. Fenris stood tense, the lines on his brow deepening with every word. Yet, he didn’t interrupt. He simply listened — stiff, unmoving — as the Boss laid out the plan.

  He exhaled, said something that I couldn’t catch and began to walk towards me.

  Just as we were about to leave, the boss interrupted, “And Fenris,” he said, his voice low and grim. "If you spot a shadow of malice,

  Then, the boss paused, before his lips moved again.

  “I hope I can count on you,” he added as he unsheathed his sword.

  Fenris followed suit, drawing his blade. Their blades met in a solemn display of solidarity and mutual respect.

  Amidst, the quiet garden of unity and respect that unfolded before my eyes. I found myself drifting somewhere else. It was the words – the warning the boss had given just seconds earlier– that held me. If what he said was true, then I knew exactly what we were up against.

  I hadn’t seen it myself, but I didn't need to. The story was infamous — how a mysterious being had slaughtered an entire band of thirty warriors.

  Even rookies like me had heard it whispered in the dark corner of the inns and in half-joking camp rumors, always ending the same way: no survivors.

  “The shadow…...” In hushed murmur, the words escaped my slips.

  Even before the Boss’s words had settled in my head, Fenris walked up and gave me a light thump on the head.

  “We’re leaving, kid,” he said.

  With that, he charged towards the entryway of Eden, and I followed from behind, barely able to keep up.

  As Fenris and I passed through the gate, my heart raced with a strange mix of fear and excitement. I had dreamed of wandering these streets for as long as I could remember.

  But now, standing here…the sight before me filled with sadness.