The Final Battle

Voices spoke out eerily against the silence, pale moonlight casting eerie shadows across a figure, which was emitting a faint golden glow. The hill was strangely silent, animals having left long ago. Slowly the figure lifted its head; the pale golden glow also visible in its eyes. The figure blinked, and turned to run, for now the voices could be heard again. But the hill remained silent. The figure ran and ran till it could run no more. Stopping at the bottom of the hill, it looked back towards the top, but still there was no voices, even though they were ran from.

The glow slowly got brighter, the only light around. Trees hid the moonlight, and the nearest town was miles away. No one could hear the voices in the silence.

The figure knew time was running out, for they were getting louder, nowhere was safe, the glow could now been seen anywhere. It was a curse, but in other ways it was a blessing. It was hoped that it would bring about the end of the war.

Time passed, the glow got stronger.

“Come,” the figured whispered, slowly, carefully. “Come Phoenix, finish it.” To what the figure meant, who knows. Maybe the voices, maybe the silence, or maybe itself.

The wind picked up, flames rising out of the ground, around the figure. It smiled a cruel and wicked smile. “End Game,” it said, looking up towards the sky.

The flames came closer, soon covering the area where the figure stood, but it still looked towards the sky, the glow being at its brightest, but it was no longer golden, it was fire red. The figure ignored the flames; to it, the flames weren’t there.

“Come,” it shouted, and an enormous beast flew up from the body. It soared into the sky. The golden bird, body made out of fire, eyes that could see for miles. It stared at the top of the hill, and then looked at the figure, slouched on the ground, all its strength gone. Then it too was gone, along with the voices. Silence came once again.

The only light came from burning towns in the distance.