The pounding is what struck first. Ribs began tearing into their own flesh, betraying their own body and ravaging the insides like claws. One by one a painful crack of bone, followed by another. Another. Crack. Craaack. Craaaack. Green fog drifting from somewhere, causing an eruption of coughs and sputters. The distinct taste of iron spills onto my tongue - suddenly cut off by a sharp pain pushing further down into the lungs. A painful wheeze- the last breath. Deeper. Sinking in. My brain whizzes, crumbling under the pressure, the searing pain, the desperation to think of anywhere but here. Can't breathe. Suffocating. I can't move.

Sir Addones face. Caked in blood, but still recognizable. A warm, unnatural glow to that smile on his sunkissed face. Golden brown hair matted with mud and blood, yet still shining, framing his handsome face. I spent an eternity in that one instant, memorizing that face. His eyes a vibrant green. His brow rarely stern, but in that instant was troubled. I could see hints of grey in his brows and hair, I had never realized them before. But I thanked his god and fate for bringing him to me then- just as an unholy fist came crashing down into he and I both. Darkness shrouded my already blurry vision. My hope crushed as soon as it had arrived.

I gasp for air, my vision slowly returning to me. The sudden hit of sensations returning. My face is wet. Neck too. My hand hurts- I dumbly turn my gaze to it. It grasps an unfinished blade, coated in blood. Mine? Yes. I drop the metal and it clings on the workshop floor. I'm in a workshop. My workshop. I feel my knees go weak under me and I don't fight it. I exhaustedly drop to my knees as my brain swarms with the residual fear. Where are you? My workshop. We are not safe here, the undead are here. I'm safe. You're not safe. I'm safe. Where's Sir Addone? I try to slow my irrational breathing but I still find myself trembling. I move over to where I keep my first aid kit and shakily open it. I bandage the new wounds on my hand. And stare at it. The glow of my hearth subsides with my feeling of dread. I'm left in the newly darkened workshop. Staring into my hand, I force myself to finish the memory. On my own terms. I need to close it before I can calm myself.
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I was only 15. Other young soldiers were there as well, we were only meant as a patrol. I knew them. And with us was Sir Addone. He had trained me before this, but not the others here. He became my second father, in a way.
Our group wasn't ready. We were talking, dreaming, about what we would do with our first pay. Sir Addone didn't interrupt, we needed something positive to think about. Madelyn would have visited family in a distant city. Garreleth would bail his father from prison. Doran wanted to see the world with his sweetheart, Rendall. We would have asked Rendall what he wanted, but we were interrupted by fate.

With the first strike of the ghast and its commander, I was down. I watched as one by one my fellows fell beside me, and found my eyes drifting towards the eyes of my attacker. We locked eyes in what felt like a painful oblivion. Those dull eyes. Framed by that chunky, fleshy brow without hair. Those eyes gleamed with what can only be described as pure hunger. As daft as that ghast may have been, it realized I survived its first attack, and swung while I was still down. It was the most painful thing I had ever experienced. My chestplate bent willingly under its meaty fist, as if it too wanted me dead. My ribs gave way under the pressure and tore through my flesh, into my lungs. As the beast lifted its fist away from me I had immediately felt the intensity of its damage. While it left, my chestplate had caved in. It held the pressure and left me unable to breathe. My comerades were dead. I was gasping for air that would not come. Help that was already perished. That's when Sir Addone came to me. He rushed to my side, the symbol of his goddess in hand. I owe his god my life, for granting his healing word upon me. He had only enough time to allow me breath again before being dragged into the fray with the ghast.
I blacked out then.
My head came back swirling when I was awoken by a swift slap from the awful medical assistant. I knew her. A heartless young woman of my age, she was a farmgirl from my town. Eliza, I think. Tall and lanky, with pale skin and dull brown hair drawn back into a tight braid. Her tongue was just as sharp as the pain in my chest. She drilled interrogations into me that I could not understand. I was hit again. My ears were ringing now, but my eyes focused. I ignored her at the time, I looked to see where I was. The infirmary. Camp. The bed next to me was a bloody mess. I could not make out the face quite yet, so my eyes drifted away and back to her. I nodded and tried to pretend I understood what she said to me. As awful as she is, she's perceptive, I'll give her that. She saw right through it and got angrier, and stomped away, out of my vision. Behind her was the doctor, working meticulously on the bloody mess beside me. The cleric was brought in hurriedly, and my vision was blurred as holy light was pulsed into the body. Once. Twice. I heard a gasp and coughing from next to me as the life was dragged back into the body. My dazed mind took a moment to see who I was looking at. Sir Addone. Barely alive, but still here. Relief washed over me then. The pain in my chest melted away for that one moment, only to be rudely stolen from me by a round of coughing. With that the cleric turned to look at me. There were some quiet words between him and the doctor. A hand raised toward me, and I felt that familiar rush of Sir Addones god, his magic pulsed through my wounds and closed them. I hadn't known his name that day, but I do now, and I am now ever grateful to Pelor.

I was left to recuperate in that bed. I was soon able to sit up again, but that's about all I could do, though shakily. I could then see the sorry state of my mentor, and my breath escaped me all over again. His arm had been ripped cleanly from its shoulder. I only saw bandages, but I knew there was only bone and gore underneath. I grit my teeth angrily. Probably only a snack for that beast. I could feel angry tears escape my sore eyes, I didn't care. Looking around the room, I saw none of the others from our scouting group. Sir Addone and I were the only survivors. That's why Eliza had questioned me so angrily. She had friends in my patrol group.
It's good to cry. When words aren't enough to explain your hurt, tears will take you. You may not know what to do with your situation just yet. But your heavy heart is trying to comfort you. I cried most of that week. I caught Eliza doing the same once she heard what had happened. I wasn't mad at her anymore. I couldn't be.
We found solidarity in our sadness. She would help me dress my wounds, since my shaky fingers lacked the dexterity to do so myself. She was silent when she did so, so I told stories.
I never told her what happened that last day. I didn't have to. Instead I told her of our brighter escapades earlier in the year. On patrol, Doran had thought he heard a stray undead in the brush, and snuck ahead to play hero and impress Rendall. We had all watched as he came running back, a wild boar on his heels. He wasn't the slightest bit impressed, but he did laugh and run to Dorans aid. We all did.
Madelyn came from a family of fishermen. We had all spent a night around a campfire, learning to tie knots from her. I needed a bit of extra help. But I learned a few. Garreleth was a fast learner, and even began trying to help me learn them.
I noticed Eliza's sad smile and slight nods along to the stories. She missed her friends, as I missed mine. I took some
solace in that.
The next week, Sir Addone was finally awake and comprehending. Eliza agreed to let me back into the emergency room to see him. He had lost a lot of blood. His face was paler and lacking color, his once green, lively eyes sunken in. He looked.. dead. Then he blinked. It took him a moment to recognize me. His left hand reached for me and I took it in mine. It was heartbreakingly weak and cold. I don't know why, but in that moment I pressed his hand to my forehead. I held it there a moment, willing him to heal, just as he had done for me. I lacked his magic, so I only gave what spirits I had left. He could not yet speak so Eliza and I only stood there with him silently until being asked to leave.

Weeks passed until I finally saw him stand again. I couldn't contain myself, I rushed past the sickly looking guard to the infirmary. To stop me would be to break a second limb, so they withdrew. I buried my face in him as I wrapped my arms around him. I felt the tears seep into his shirt. I wanted to say so many things. But my tears seem to always rob me of my voice and reasoning. I tried to clear my throat, to tell him of my sorrow. To apologize for my weakness. Sir Addones arm draped over my shoulder, and all efforts to contain myself were lost. I was relieved to have a friend back.

I was sent back out to continually scout the perimeter, but nothing came. Everything was eerily silent, and everyone was put on edge until word came. I was told last. I had just returned from scouting when I saw the revelry. Eliza marched right up to me with such direct purpose in her gaze, I thought I had done something wrong. Then those bony arms wrapped around my neck, pulling my face into hers. I was confused and a bit worried for what would happen until her face came down to meet mine. Her mouse brown hair swept down around my face as we kissed.
I had seen others in my hometown do it. Eliza included. I had never felt I was close enough with someone to merit it. It felt too intimate to give, at least until now.

Her usual hard exterior gave way, and her long arms finally felt warm to me. I unknowingly embraced her, desperately needing the comfort. But the kiss ended as soon as it had come. Yet afterwards we just stood there, leaning into one another. My head tried to piece this all together, but all I could think about was my blindness. I had no idea she had feelings for me, let alone liked me.
That's when she finally told me what had happened. The war was finally over.

I pulled her back in, finally feeling a smile flash across my face. She seemed to think I was pulling her in for another kiss, when I was instead excitedly wrapping my arms around her back for another hug. Because of the confusion we accidentally hit our heads together. She cursed at me and I just laughed.

We were all sent home with outstanding pay. The coins were so heavy, I had never seen so many in one place. Neither had Eliza, I could tell in her eyes. But she wouldn't admit it. We arrived back in our home town. Standing there in my soldiers issue armor was so odd to me. It felt wrong to me in the back of my mind, but I ignored it. We said nothing as I walked her home. Her younger brother had opened the door. He'd been spooked by seeing me and yelled for his parents, who immediately scooped up Eliza in a tearful welcome.
I excused myself and left them there. I had my own family to return to.

• I walked back down the road to the farmhouse. The farmland was in awful disrepair from soldiers once staying here. But the house looked the same. I took the familiar steps up to the door and knocked even though the front door never was locked. The door moved and standing there was my mother, Rose. It took her a second to recognize me, as she would later explain that I looked as if I had aged so quickly in that year. It only took a moment for her to pull me inside and hold me in her arms. I finally felt safe again. The rest of the family soon joined in. My two younger sisters, Arlen and Helena, braided my unkept hair, and scolded me on how messy I was. I conceded, happy enough to not tell them why. My younger brother Wesley, only 6 at the time, babbled about what he heard about the scary zombies. And my father Daniel. A beast of a man. Came in and picked me up, much to the distaste of my my younger sisters, and embraced me.

That first nights rest without my armor within arms reach, was the best of my life. The soft snores of my family were strangely comforting, I had somehow missed it.

That was all almost 30 years ago. Between then I had used to money to fix up the farm, and pay off my family's debt. I went to the local elderly blacksmith to ask to have my armor fixed. He actually offered me a job, after I had expressed curious interest in his work, and I was glad to accept. It fit me far better than farming. I fixed the armor myself, with some help. I learned his trade. He soon passed away much to the towns dismay. His family came to read the will, and as I was packing my tools they came to me. They resented me for it, as they read out his last will and testament. He left his wealth to them, but everything in the smithy was left to me. I accepted it of course, it is what he had wanted. Though it was uncomfortable to have a family hate me so.
I had also visited Eliza, and she had visited me in my new shop at well. We dated. Her family only liked me for my title and moderate wealth. My family welcomed Eliza as if she was their own. I proposed to her many a time, and each time she refused. Reaching my 27th birthday, she proposed to me. I paused, and agreed. Our wedding was small as I had requested. But she felt she must have such elaborate decorations. She and my sisters worked on floral banners and dresses. My father gave me his own wedding attire, that I proudly wore. The ceremony was set to start when I spotted Sir Addone approaching me. He had travelled to attend my wedding. I hugged him, and he did so as well. But when I pulled away I felt a new weight on my neck. He had given me a symbol of Pelor. It matched his that he wore. It meant so much to me then, but he ushered me forward to Eliza, before I could say anything. We were wed, with rings I had made for the occasion. Eliza's took me weeks. I had made it so precisely, so it would fit her ornate tastes. My own was a simple polished band of silver, with her name carved inside of it.
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My head finally cleared, my hand no longer throbbing painfully, I stood myself up. I noticed the room was.. a lot brighter than it was before. I stood to see Eliza there, right in my face. I hadn't come to bed after working in my shop and she came to check on me. She seemed to know by glancing at my tired expression, and ushered me to bed. "I told you to not even bother coming in today. The kings coronation is this week and you go and work yourself to death. At least sleep before you head out, idiot".

I took her advice. I slept uncomfortably, but slept nonetheless. I needed it before my trip to the capital city. I was to pay respects to our new king, and maybe see Sir Addone while there. I needed my energy.
That morning I wished Eliza goodbye. I donned my soldiers armor and shield. I pocketed the symbol of Pelor Sir Addone had gifted me. Wished my family goodbye. And set off toward the city.