We are nothing but soldiers. Pawns fighting for the rulership of our kings.

As the sudden calm filled the night, the eeriness of something more to come still lingers in the smell of the fall air. Soldiers stand still and silent. Muscles, aching with the tension of war, stiff and poised for an attack. The soldiers stand in perfect rows along the shadows of the forest behind them.

It was where their land of Tyrone ended and the enemies began.

We sacrifice everything and in return die. We believe in their lying words and charge into battle with a wish that will not come.

The sky wept for the tragedy about to occur as lightning struck over head, illuminating the shadowy figures of an advancing army that marched down the hill, like ants leaving their nest. Simultaneously the soldiers of Tyrone looked at their leader. The man was not hard to miss. He was clad in the armor of the general, proudly wearing the colors of red, black and gold. Even in the semi-darkness his confidence in the abilities to over take his enemies was palpable. He rode on a black stallion, loping back and forth between the first lines.

He came to a sudden halt, waiting for the opportune moment to unleash his men. Raising his hand in the air, he silenced to shifting movement of the anxious army behind him. No one breathed as they all watched the enemy's lines rush forward. Their leader shouted, slicing the air in a gesture unmistakable. The sign to fight.

The two armies ran forward, clashing blades with each other. The sounds of war echoed through the battle field. The calls of rage, pain, and triumph. The stampede shakes the earth as it soaks in the fallen's blood.

But the truth is, not even the greatest sacrifice can change that.

~Authors Note~

I have made a few changes to the prologue and I would like to know what you think. Writing the first few chapters is always hard me and I feel that this is missing a lot, but I'm at a loss as to what to add! Comments are always appreciated! Thank you for reading! ^^