Samurai's Scribbles

**Disclaimer:** This page may contain violence and other mature themes, as well as some heavy topics. I do not sugarcoat my writing.

**© 2019 Samurai, all rights reserved.**

## Day 1 | September 8 | Word: Birthplace | COMPLETE

The chains weighed her down, the shackles rough and cold against her wrists, and the forest floor on which she was forced to kneel boasted its rich emeralds like the pompous samurai who had left her here. The golden sun smiled cruelly through the trees, setting the grass aglow with its ridiculing light, and the songbirds mocked her, their chirps malicious and cold. The two trees she was chained between towered over her like sentinels, ensuring that she stayed right where she was until the samurai came.

Blood running from the corner of her mouth, she looked into the jade darkness of the forest before her, wondering how long she had. The samurai were likely coming from the city, and since it was a glorious day for the Ancient Kingdom, they would be marching rather than on horseback. They wanted to drag out her last day as long as they could, to humiliate her as much as possible before she died, to prove to her one last time how powerful they were and how little she really was.

Fern wasn't having it.

She gritted her teeth, casting a dark glance at the shackle on her right wrist, and pulled as hard as she could. But the shackle would not come off, and it glared back at her, determined to make her face Death today.

Fern tried again, and again, and again, but the shackle stayed where it was, and it made no difference when she tried her left wrist. It didn't matter what she tried - the samurai had known what he was doing when he chained her up.

*You will wait for the Victory March,* he had said. *They will take you to the mountain.*

*And that, clever shinobi, is where you shall finally be put to death.*

Fern hated him for not being more specific - she wanted to know what death they thought they could throw at her. Beheading? How original. Burning at the stake? It had already been tried twice - good luck. Poison? Not nearly dramatic enough for the Ancient Kingdom, and she was immune to most of it anyway.

Whatever it was, she was already thoroughly unimpressed. But something told her she wouldn't have such an easy escape this time, and if she was going to live, she had to get out of these chains before the Victory March came.

She tried again, but she couldn't break free. She'd escaped from countless situations like this. Countless! Why couldn't she break herself out of these chains? Why was this time any different? Why was-

*Because you're weak,* a voice inside her whispered. *Because you're not strong enough and you never will be.*

*Because you amount to nothing.*

*And nothing's all you'll ever be.*

The voice was familiar, and it was a voice she wanted to forget - it was branded into her memory forever, imprisoning her like the chains, and she couldn't get away. He was still here.

*Nothing . . .* the daimyo's voice said smugly. *You're nothing . . .*

*Worthless . . .*

*You're worthless . . . powerless . . . you're nothing . . . I can use you however I want . . .*

The years of manipulation came surging back, and Fern sank to the ground, fighting tears.

*Without me, you have nothing. What are you going to run away to? You'll just come right back . . . right back where you belong.*

*Killing all my enemies for me . . . doing as you're told . . . because otherwise, you're nothing. No one else is going to love you, Natsu . . .*

She could almost see him standing here in the shadows of the trees, smiling his deceptively charming smile and laughing at her as she faced her last day. Her last day, the last of many, none of which had been days where she'd been free or truly loved. She had known nothing but his control and possessiveness for so long, and now she was going to die without ever having truly lived, because she was always so afraid . . .

*You're worthless.*

*Nothing.*

She lived in fear, and now she was going to die in it.

*You're powerless.*

*Nothing.*

She could hear the samurai coming.

*You're mine.*

*But even then . . .*

*You're still nothing.*

The first of the Ancient samurai stepped out of the trees.

*You'll be mine until you die.*

The leader of the samurai indicated Fern with his sword. "Unlock her chains."

*Unlock her chains,* a new voice inside her repeated. *Free her . . .*

The shackles came off, and then something deep inside of Fern snapped.

The samurai didn't have so much as a millisecond to think about putting the new shackles on - Fern exploded to her feet, throwing a kick into his chin that sent him flying back. The other samurai rushed forward, but Fern was already halfway up the tree, flashing to the top with grace no one had ever told her she had. The Ancients were quick to follow, but she had snapped the bands off her wings and prepared to take flight.

*You'll be mine until you die,* the daimyo's voice said again.

*And that's what happened here today,* Fern said. *The woman you controlled for so long is dead, and a new woman is born today.*

These free mountains were her birthplace, the place she rose anew a mighty warrior. Her own warrior. There was no one to control her, and she was never going back.

She took a lungful of beautiful, free air, and then she leaped into the sky, leaving her old life, painful past, and the samurai in a shower of snow white feathers.

## Day 2 | September 9 | Word: Snowflakes | COMPLETE

The winter was cold, and she made it colder.

She'd lost count of how many she'd killed in the ice chambers she powered, but she estimated it to be in the thousands. Thousands dead, thousands frozen, thousands lost by snow, their lives ripped away by ice and frost. For years, for centuries, for millennia, she had executed some of the Ancient Kingdom's worst enemies, and she had never thought anything of it. She'd never felt guilt, never felt remorse, never felt anything but emptiness. And no matter how many lives she took, the hole in her chest of which she could no longer feel the pain never filled. She never felt any different, neither better nor worse, just as hollow and empty as ever. She was without guilt, without regret, without feeling.

The winter was cold, and it had made her numb.

She looked at the ice crystals all around her, glittering like captured stars in the artificial light. She took in the snow-covered floor and the distant whispers of arctic winds that stirred up snowflakes, carrying them around the tunnels below the ice chambers in which she had lived for seven thousand years.

Seven thousand years . . . but she'd never felt lonely. She'd never felt pain, not for a long time. All emotion and feeling was gone, and the ice had taken it.

The winter was cold, and it had frozen her heart.

## Day 3 | September 10 | Word: Battlefront | COMPLETE

Every day, he fought a war. It was a war against himself and everything he stood for, a war against life and the unknown, a war against everything that persisted to go very, very wrong, every time he breathed. Every moment he continued to exist, there was worry, there was anger, there was a storm. There was war.

He wasn't sure how the war began, and he wasn't sure how it could possibly end. He was the only one who could fight this war - the only one who could win it, and the only one who could lose it. He couldn't say what either of those outcomes might entail, and he couldn't say how he might be able to do either.

How to win?

How to lose?

How to win?

How to lose?

He didn't know anything.

## Day 4 | September 11 | Word: Remember | TO BE CONTINUED

The sun burned the heavens as it rose from behind the crimson mountains, bathing the city in a golden light as it woke up. Well, as everyone else woke up - he'd never fallen asleep in the first place.

Akira sighed and got up from the windowsill where he had been sitting most of the night, stretching briefly and running his hands through his hair. It needed to be cut - it was past his waist now. But it wasn't like he had scissors on hand, and he didn't really care anyway. He knew he looked like hell, but he didn't care about that either, and he walked silently to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

It wasn't his bathroom - in fact, he didn't even know whose house this was. But no one was home, and that was an invitation to come in. He'd been here with Loki for three days now, and there was no telling when the family would return. They wouldn't take kindly to two wanted men staying in their house, and it was very likely that they would turn them in.

But they had to catch them first.

Akira returned to the room they were staying in without so much as a glance in the mirror at his hellish reflection. Loki was sprawled across the bed, still asleep, and Akira went over and shook him. Time to wake up.

"Just five more minutes," Loki sighed, rolling over and ignoring him.

"It's sunrise," Akira said. "Get up. You've already overslept. Let's move!"

"For someone who got kicked out of the Ancient Kingdom," Loki said, lazily sitting up, "you never lost that military discipline. Unfortunately."

Akira didn't laugh, finding nothing funny about being reminded of his past affiliation and how it had ended. He forced himself to reply, flinching at how terse it sounded.

"Yeah, I haven't."

Loki picked up on the pain. "Sorry. Maybe that wasn't the best thing to say."

"It's fine," Akira said, sounding just as harsh.

He bit his lip and went over to the window again, looking out over the awakening city. Hoverships were out now, flying between the skyscrapers, carrying early shoppers and late shop owners, hurrying to the stores. Perhaps there were a few samurai out there, watching the city carefully, looking for anyone who might be trouble. Above all, they were looking for those on the most wanted list.

It was a fairly short list when one took into account the number of Defenders in the world, but it was a deadly list. He didn't know everyone on it, but he knew they all had a cold dungeon and a painful death waiting for them. The Ancient Kingdom had many executions, but the creative ones were reserved for those they particularly hated, such as those on the most wanted list. A variety of acts could get you on the list, but the big ones were treason and the killing of an official.

Allegedly, Akira had done both.

In truth, he'd done neither.

But what did his word mean against that of the Shogun and his Circle?

## Day 5 | September 12 | Word: Wings | TO BE CONTINUED

“Flying isn’t easy at first,” Atasuke said, helping Jaguar stand up, “but it will quickly become second nature.”

He looked at him, standing there with torn, bloodied clothes and covered in dirt, and wasn’t at all surprised when he smiled. Nothing shook him up, not even falling out of the sky (well, five feet into it) and skinning both knees.

“Can I try again?” he asked, bouncing excitedly. “I’ve got it this time!”

That was what he’d said last time, and the time before that, and the time before that. But Atasuke liked that he was persistent – there was no use in a ninja who gave up.

“Of course you do,” he said, dusting him off. “Running start, remember. And . . .”

He glanced at the edge of the platform. “Jumping off this will be a little easier, if you want to try it – you can glide to the ground and get a feel of what flying should be like. That is, if you’re okay with jumping two thousand feet.”

“Yeah!”

That . . . was not normally how young Angels reacted to that.

“All right,” Atasuke said, vaulting into the air to hover above the platform.

Jaguar looked up at him, the wind from his wings ruffling his hair. He got a determined look and jumped up several times, flapping his oversized wings desperately. He didn’t get anywhere, but he didn’t stop trying until Atasuke reminded him what they were doing.

“Run to the edge with your wings out and jump off – you should glide, but if you don’t for some reason, I’ll catch you. I promise.”

“Okay,” Jaguar said, and Atasuke flew to the other side of the platform.

“Go!” he called, barely even finishing the word before Jaguar flashed towards him.

The little boy leaped off the platform without a single shred of fear, his twenty-foot wingspan outstretched, and the sky welcomed him with open arms. He couldn’t maintain his altitude, nor did he know how to change direction, but he was gliding, and he looked absolutely thrilled at having wind in his feathers.

“I did it!” he said. “I’m flying! I’m all grown up now and ready to pay my own bills!”

He wrinkled his nose. “Unless bills are bad? Then I don’t want to pay them. I want ice cream! With sprinkles!”

Atasuke laughed, following him as he slowly descended. “We can get that later. First, let’s finish this flying lesson.”

He put one hand on Jaguar’s chest and the other on his back, stopping his descent. “Here, I’ll hold you up – just worry about the wing stuff for now. Keep them moving.”

A few flaps.

*“Moving.* C’mon. Otherwise, you’re going to fall right out of the sky.”

More vigorous flapping.

“That’s it. Try to make it a nice, steady beat – go with your breathing. In and up. Out and down. In and up. Out and down. Good.”

He felt like he was teaching a yoga class. “See, you’re moving! Keep it up!”

An hour or so went by, and then the lesson concluded. He flew Jaguar home, and they got inside just as it started to rain.

“Hello, Atasuke,” a voice said, dripping with honeyed venom. “Hope you’re doing well.”

The man’s tone completely changed when he addressed Jaguar. “Hey! How was the flying lesson?”

“It was great!” Jaguar said, beaming at him. “Sensei Atasuke let me jump off a really high cliff!”

Atasuke quickly tried to correct him. “It was actually a–”

“Did he now,” Thorn said, looking at Atasuke like a black cat with its hackles raised. Or a bear with a beehive up its ass.

“It was one of the platforms–”

“I suggest you be more careful with my godchild, lest something unfortunate befall you,” Thorn interrupted coldly. “We wouldn’t want *that* to happen, not to precious little Atasuke. How about you consider the sheer amount of power I have at my fingertips before you go trying to get him hurt?”

And then he saw the knees.

(to be continued)

## Day 6 | September 13 | Word: Waves | COMPLETE

Sasaki looked out over the endless expanse of cobalt, watching the dying sun set the sea on fire. The horizon that faded into a salty haze during the day was a blazing burst of deep gold and pink and red, like wondrous treasure and tropical fruit and Syren blood. The glowing waves, desperate not to fade into the impending darkness of night, crashed against the rocks, roaring like dragons, and the spray splashed onto his scales. It was cool and refreshing, tasting of the mystical ocean depths, and he thought of the home he could never go back to.

The home that no longer existed.

The destruction of Atlantis was a strange and heart-wrenching tale, and even Sasaki didn't quite understand what had happened. But he remembered the boiling sea and the collapsing palace, the beautiful fish that disappeared into dust, and the empire that vanished into nothing. Why? How? Who started it? No one knew, though he certainly had his speculations.

But it hurt not knowing, and it hurt that he could never go home.

## Day 7 | September 14 | Word: Power | TO BE CONTINUED

He was worthless. Powerless. Weak.

He was broken. Shattered. In pieces.

He wasn't enough.

But today he had to be.

Jaguar sat in a line with the other student shinobi, his heart pounding in his chest so loudly that the sound and force of it threatened to crack his ribs. He was the smallest, the frailest, the weakest...he could tell just by looking around him at the others. They were all so much bigger than him, so much stronger, so *normal*, each one of them the very image of what an Angel was supposed to be. They were graceful, agile, wiry. Their wings changed in the light. They didn't have blue eyes. They didn't randomly hear things they weren't supposed to hear. They didn't have dangerous shadows in their blood.

They were perfect.

But him? He was tiny, a mere ant of a boy with wings that never changed, wings that matched the darkness inside him that could rip lives away if he wasn't careful with it. They could snap him like a twig - sure, he was a shadowblood, but he didn't want to use it on them, and he couldn't reveal his secret anyway, so only physical strength mattered.

And at twenty pounds, he sure had a lot of that.

## Day 8 | September 15 | Word: Elves | TO BE CONTINUED

"Star elves are our enemies," Inari said, narrowing her eyes at Silver. "They always have been, since Samurath's very beginning, and I sincerely hope that you understand that, Empowered filth."

Silver did not reply, and Inari's gaze grew ever colder.

"I do not welcome you into the Ancient Guard," she said, "but His Lordship has ordered it that you protect the Kingdom's fortresses alongside the most vigilant, disciplined samurai. I am not saying that I agree with his decision, letting an Empowered *star elf* in, but it is my duty to honor it."

"

## Day 9 | September 16 | Word: Mystery | COMPLETE

It's a mystery why we laugh,

Why we cry.

It's a mystery why we live,

Why we die.

It's a mystery why we rise,

Why we fall.

It's a mystery why anything moves,

Why anything stands still.

It's a mystery why anything exists,

Why anything vanishes.

It's a mystery why anything is,

Why anything will be.

It's all a mystery,

Countless questions unanswered.

Where are the answers?

Where is the truth?

It's a mystery.

## Day 10 | September 17 | Word: Shattered | TO BE CONTINUED

The glass in his hand shattered to the ground, shards
scattering across the floor, and he fell after it, blood rushing from the
smoking hole in his chest. It poured onto the floorboards, blending with the
wine, a flood of rich crimson that crept slowly over the wood.

              The
supersoldier lowered her gun, smoke rising from its barrel, and holstered the
weapon, watching the dead man bleed. Frigid eyes peered at the corpse,
blue-grey and unfeeling, hardened with hatred for him and his cause. The dim
light of the empty bar reflected off her blue armor, illuminating the Society’s
insignia for no one to see; the power it radiated did not cease when there were
no eyes to behold it. The Society was everywhere, and the city would soon be theirs
– the rebels’ resistance was in vain, and Arctic
Storm was hungry for more of their dastardly blood.

              She left
the bar, welcomed by empty streets. The civilians had long surrendered to the
supersoldiers, and they were smart to stay in their homes, which had been
stripped of all valuables. Being found on the streets past curfew had a
particularly grave consequence involving a firing squad. The rebels, however,
were unfazed, and that had to change. They had to learn to fear.

              And she
was here to teach them.

## Day 11 | September 18 | Word: Crucible | COMPLETE

*This is part of the prologue for The Storm's Crucible, which is set prior to Path of Legends #1 when Grey's father was still shogun.*

"A . . . a what?" Though his face was hidden, confusion was evident in Shogun Ethereal's tone.

The sage from Aerum was patient. "A crucible, sir."

"And what would I want with that?" Shogun Ethereal demanded. "What's it got in it, the secret to immortality?"

He chuckled, and it was colder than winter itself. "Sorry to disappoint, but I have no wish for immortality. Already got it. I mean, it's not like we were created to eternally protect the most powerful thing in the universe."

"The Storm's Crucible does not contain any such secret," the sage said. "In fact, no one knows what lies within, only that it is a truly marvelous treasure on par with perhaps even the Elixir itself. All there is to do is find it."

"So you want me to give you my troops so you can go on a wild goose chase," Shogun Ethereal said. "Is that what you're telling me? Because that's what I'm hearing."

His eyes hardened behind the visor. "In case you haven't noticed, little mortal, I am in the middle of a war. Two wars, in fact. I don't have time for your frivolous expedition to the Ancient Stars or wherever you're going to search for this thing."

"Oh, but when you find it . . ." The sage smiled. "There are things in this universe beyond your wildest dreams."

"Funny hearing that from someone with only eighty years under his belt," Shogun Ethereal said, "but go on. Get the guillotine ready."

The sage laughed, but quickly stopped when he realized the Shogun was every bit serious. The smile was back, but it was a nervous one this time, and he said:

"The Haven will help you fight your wars if you assist us on our expedition. And anything we find, you will share equally in."

"I won't be tempted by fortune," the Shogun said coldly. "Do your research, vain man. It's Syrens that are greedy and like shiny things - we Angels are just bloodthirsty."

The bloodlust in his eyes burned like hungry fire. "I advise you to leave. Samurath will not be taking part in this expedition. And any Defender who does will be put to death."

## Day 12 | September 19 | Word: Defenestration | TO BE CONTINUED

"I," the samurai seethed, "am about. To throw this entire. Thing. Outside."

"It's really not that bad," Triton said. "Just-"

"It's horrible," the samurai growled, his face in his hands. "None of this makes sense. Why are they making us fill these out? *I don't know the answers to any of these questions."*

## Day 14 | September 21 | Word: Heal

"How are you?" Sakura asked, and that was not something Thorn would have ever thought she would say.

Maybe a "Get back to work" or a "Heal faster, you wimp", but never a "How are you?" It was so unlike his mother that he had to wonder if she had hit her head.

"I'm feeling okay," he replied, glanced at his newly stitched-up arm.

He'd done it himself - it had been cut open very badly, bleeding everywhere with no hope to heal without serious help. The stitches had taken a while, since he only had his other arm and his teeth to suture with,

## Day 15 | September 22 | Word: Dictator

It was almost surreal to be in control of everything.

## Day 16 | September 23 | Word: Hope

"I don't think there's any hope for this project," he said bitterly. "It's just too much of a mess."

## Day 17 | September 24 | Word: Revolution

"Men, women, on your feet!"

The crowd of scraggly peasants rose, everyone from the youngest child old enough to work to the oldest, frailest elder. Some were covered in blood, others in bruises, others in the dirt and grime of hardship. Some were on crutches, and some leaned on their neighbors, and most of them were half-starved. A few were sick, and many were weakened, and all were tired.

But none were broken.

The officials were demanding, strutting around town in their crisp uniforms with their shining swords, more than willing to rip away liberty after liberty. Freedom was a distant thought, a forgotten wish, a long-lost memory - no one here, except perhaps the oldest of the peasants, had never known freedom's caress, liberty's blessing.

That was going to change today.

The leader, a half-starved woman in her twenties who the Nation saw as worthless due to her physical weakness and infertility, was wild and fierce. She yelled the words of rebellion without fear that the officials would hear her, not caring what happened when they came for her. She was going to bring liberty back to this land, and if she died trying, then so be it.

"Men, women, take up your arms!"

Everyone picked up a sword, an axe, a spear, any weapons they had managed to find on old battlefields and smuggled out of weapon stores. Some were rusted and covered with old blood, while others gleamed like slivers of the moon that watched over them. The moon that had never abandoned them.

The leader raised her sword to pierce the sky, standing on the rooftop like a descending archangel.

"Men, women, our time is now!"

A collective yell, a mighty roar, rose from the crowd, thundering across the land and challenging the clouds, mountains, and the very throne of the Emperor himself. A chant began, and it echoed in their hearts for all the battles and trials to come:

*"Freedom Fighters! Freedom Fighters! Freedom Fighters!"*

*"Revolution! Revolution! Revolution!"*

## Day 18 | September 25 | Word: Beginning

It was a new beginning, and it was a beautiful beginning. It was a new start, the start he'd been waiting for, the chance he'd wanted for so long. The time had finally come, the time where he arose a new man, a better man, a stronger man. The gods had spoken, and they had chosen him, given him power.

He had gotten up without hitting the snooze button.

## Day 19 | September 26 | Word: Wunderkind

"I'll have you know I'm no wunderkind," Atasuke said with a raw smile. "I wasn't any good at any of these ninja things until I was about a hundred years old."

He poked Storm. "Does that make you feel better?"

Storm sighed, putting her feet over the edge of the platform. "Not really. I want to be good *now.* Like Jaguar."

"Comparing yourself to others is a waste of time," Atasuke said. "Trust me on that. As long as you give your best effort, you will grow, and that's all that matters. Don't worry about them."

He put his wing around her. "Besides, you're only four. Jaguar's had a lot more practice simply because he's been around longer. If you work hard, you will get to where he is someday."

"But everything's so hard for me," Storm said, looking - almost glaring - at the trees below. "Nothing makes sense, no matter how many times it's explained, and I'm so much slower than everyone else."

"Don't get held down by things you can't control," Atasuke said. "You're half Titan. Of course you're not as fast as they are, not at first. You have to work for that speed and that agility. But you have the potential to be faster than them, and you're sure as heck going to be stronger - have you seen your dad? Have you seen your grandmother? That's how strong you're going to be someday without even lifting a finger, and if you train just as hard as everyone else, you're going to be even stronger."

"Yeah, I guess..."

"No, not *I guess,*" Atasuke said. "You will be. You have so many things that they don't. And hey..."

He traced the scar across her eye, an unusual mark that appeared after an act of bravery or sacrifice and never faded. "You're Empowered too. And you've got your scar already. That says something."

## Day 20 | September 27 | Word: Underdog

***Thorn's POV***

"Aw, look at him."

One of the Titans kicked me in the ribs, and I swore I heard something crack. But I could only continue to lay curled up on the cold brick floor, covering my head and praying that they would go away.

"So tiny."

Another kick.

"Precious little boy."

One of them stepped on me, and I didn't know how my small body could hold up against 500 pounds of muscle. But it did, though that didn't mean it hurt any less. It was like slowly being crushed and suffocated by an elephant with fire in its skin, the flames crackling into my bones like burning claws, threatening to rip me apart and scorch me to nothing.

I cried.

"Worthless," the Titan sneered, finally taking his foot off of me. "Worthless and weak. What kind of a Titan are you, little brat?"

"No one wants you."

"Not even your mother."

"What kind of a Titan cries?"

"You'll never amount to what we are."

Their words and abuse seemed to last forever, and time disappeared. The pain got worse. The words hurt more. I couldn't get away. The floor was stained with tears and blood, and they kept laughing, laughing, laughing . . .

*"GET OUT!"*

The sudden roar was unmistakable, and the Titans, recognizing it as well, immediately squealed and ran away. But my mother didn't let them get very far - she had all three of them pinned to the ground in about two seconds.

"You lot are a horde of fools," she snarled in their faces, her teeth gleaming in the dim torchlight. "Come near my son again, and I'll rip your throats out!"

"We weren't-"

*"I SAW WHAT YOU WERE DOING,"* she roared, and the Titan who had been brave enough to speak wasn't brave anymore, cowering against the floor and hiding his face with his hands.

"Now," she growled, "I hope you know your family is going to pay us for this. Three elk and your biggest mammoth."

The Titans knew better than to protest, but my mother could see it in their eyes.

"You think that's too much? You think he isn't worth anything?"

She snarled again. "He's worth everything!"

Baring her teeth, she said, "I want the elk and the mammoth by sunset. Unless you want a little *visit.*"

One of the Titans shook his head, and the other two were too terrified to move.

"Good."

My mother let them up, and I had never seen anyone run so fast. They were out of the storehouse in less than a heartbeat, scrambling out into the snow.

## Day 21 | September 28 | Word: Unbreakable

*I won't be broken.*

*I won't be shattered.*

He repeated the mantra to himself as he was marched through the snow, the cold wind biting his flesh. Fresh blood ran from the corner of his mouth, and he was covered in wounds and bruises, but he kept up with the samurai, and they almost seemed disappointed at that.

The frigid horizon grew further and further away the closer they got, and it felt like the trek in the ice and snow would never end.

## Day 23 | September 30 | Word: Unforgettable

"They're people I'll never forget, that's for sure," she said, smiling sadly as she set down the picture frame.

"Tell me about them," her daughter said, indicating the men and women in the picture, standing in front of a jet and smiling. "Who were they?"

"Brothers and sisters," the woman replied. "We graduated pilot training together. We were all like family, and they were the greatest friends I've ever known..."

She looked at her grown daughter, and her daughter looked back; she could see the endless questions in her eyes, the years of wondering but never wanting to ask for fear of paining her mother. But the curiosity had become too much at last, and she got to relive her pilot days... It was beautiful to revisit them, to run the memories of friendship and flight through her mind, to be allowed to let the tears fall...but it was also painful, every second of it.

Their laughs were gone.

The moments they shared had passed.

The thrill of flight was replaced by the fear of being shot down, the reality that it was happening to friends all around her.

She had returned alone.

Her brothers dead.

Her sisters dead.

Her heart heavy.

Her heart broken.

Her heart gone.

"It's okay, Mom," her daughter said, taking her hands, and the woman nodded through tears.

## Day 24 | October 1 | Word: Strong

“If that doesn’t help, I can give you something stronger,”
Thorn said, handing her a glass of water.

              “Thanks,”
Fern said, grimacing and taking a sip. No amount of water could ever wash away
the horrid taste of the leaves.

              “Of
course,” Thorn said, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders.

## Day 25 | October 2 | Word: Invincible

*“All for one!”*

*“One for all!”*

The battle cry shook the plains,
threatening to split the very ground on which the enemy stood in two, and the
Ancients charged, swarming across the golden grass like a silver tide. The
Regime was ready to meet them, a wall of glittering gold, swords and spears at
the ready. They had thousands more troops, samurai and ashigaru alike, and they
hungered to protect their land. And Natesh knew what protective Titans were
like…

This assault had to be enough.

He swooped over the battlefield,
leaving his position in the sky, and flew at the front of the advance, brandishing
his gleaming katana. The Titans roared and began to rush towards them, and
Natesh was the first to meet them.

He’d forgotten just how enormous
they were.

Towering above him were three
mountains, their armor shining sinisterly golden in the light of the rebirthing
sun, and he was nearly cleaved in half.

## Day 26 | October 3 | Word: Sierra

We climbed the mountain with heavy hearts,

The story gone tragic in all the wrong parts.

Tears filled our eyes,

And shadows filled our skies,

As we relived with each step our lows and our highs.

To our grief, the angels were blind,

And the demons were all we could find.

Abandoned we were by the guiding light,

And deep inside us, we lost all the fight

That we had, and it vanished into the night.

We climbed the mountain with sorrowful cries,

Silent cries, like hope itself when it dies.

Rocks tumbled down,

And the world began to drown

In pain as dark as the Grim Reaper’s gown.

To our loss, the angels were deaf,

And the demons were all we had left.

Deserted we were by the knowing fire,

And the darkness lifted us ever higher

Into a sky of nothing, empty of desire.

We climbed the mountain with haunting calls,

Calls of the lost, those who wander the halls

Of time and space, never finding peace or rest.

And maybe losing them was for the best;

Goodbye, sweet sunset dying in the west.

We climbed the mountain, only to fall.

## Day 30 | October 7 | Word: Night

It was dark.

So dark.

He couldn't see anything.

It was silent.

So silent.

He couldn't hear anything.

It was numbing.

So numbing.

He couldn't feel anything.

The visions of blood, the sounds of battle, the pain of loss...it was gone. It was all gone. Everything had been taken away, every sight, every sound, every feeling, and he was living in a void, if he was even living at all. Was he even alive? Did he even exist?

Everything was gone.

Everything.