The Path to Victory

  At first, we lived. It was easy. We had energy and could fight! We were doing so well. Driving back the enemy in its own territory. But then we made out first mistake and Etzil was the first to die.

  A bloody mess of feathers and bone and tentacles.

  It was nothing but down from there. Lakker was the last to fall. He fought. Alone for so long. He hurt. He hurt so much. He stood and roared in the face of RUIN. But he fell just as the rest of us. Ripped up like a simple weed. The thing is. After Lakker's fall. We all woke. Lakker was even still bleeding. Deep wounds spilling out the sap-like blood. Orange rushed to cover the slashes.

  We all circle ourselves.
  Confused.
  But alive.

  So we went to fight. For we weren't going to give up this chance. We had come back. Battered but still alive. But now, without supplies; food, water, and medical treatment, we fell faster then ever. But every time, we returned.

  We died and died and died and died.

  Lakker and BronzeArmor took the brunt of the damage. Dying within seconds of returning. illoa was the one who died the least. She was much more skilled at dodging. Etzil might be the 'swiftest' but oh boy, does she suck at turns.

  We died and died.

  We stopped eating.
BronzeArmor was the first, arguing that he didn't need to eat.

  We stopped cleaning our wounds.
BronzeArmor was the first. Orange was the last to stop doing so.

  We stopped feeling it as our limbs were torn from us.
illoa was the last to stop feeling pain.

  We stopped hearing our ragged breath as we breathed our last.
Etzil was the first to start ignoring her lungs' gasps.

  We stopped letting the taunts bother us.
Lakker was the last to stop letting the RUIN get to him. 

  We did not stop caring.
If we could stop it from ending one of us. We would help them. Lakker was always the most guilty of this. He put himself in front of the most danger just so Etzil could fly, or so illoa could slip away. We refused to stop caring.

So we kept dying.
And we stopped feeling.
We stopped... we stopped caring for ourselves.
We no longer mattered.
We were dead.

  Slowly, over time, something began to happen. BronzeShield woke with the thoughts of Orange, Illoa woke with the ideals of Etzil, Orange found themselves acting like Lakker. Alexa woke with the feeling of wings on her human shoulders. 

  We were confused. As we slipped into... the thought patterns of all the others. This worked to our favor. We got closer to the destruction of the RUIN each time. And each time we failed, we got closer. 

  Closer and closer and closerandcloserandcloser.
"Who am I?"
 "Disturbed. Who am I?"
  "WHO AM I IN THIS WORLD?"
   "What is this?"
    "Where am I?"
     "What isss going on?"

      "WHO ARE WE?"

  That didn't matter. We knew something despite the pain we felt everywhere. We had to kill the RUIN. Black hands we did not know grasped a sword we felt familiar with. Weapons circled us. Chains and sickles. Shields and bracers.

And despite those weapons, were were still-

Dying.
Dying.
Waking.
"Who are we?" 

Dying.
Dying.
Waking.
 "Perplexed.  Why do we fight?"

Dying.
Dying.
Waking. We start to understand.
     "We... we want to protect thossse outssside of thisss hell."

Dying.
dying.
dying.
We woke. For what felt like the first time.
 "Dauntlessss, we have a goal. That goal, is to kill the RUIN. We can do this!"

Dying.
Waking up. For a second moment, we hear many voices, say one thing.
    "RUIN. Fear us!"

Dying.
  "RUIN, you shall meet with your end with this battle!"

Dying.
    "YOU SHALL DIE TODAY."

Dying.
      "You will not hurt another person. For as long as we, Etzil, live!"

We did not die this day.
We killed.