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Dusk was setting, the cool breeze was pushing from the edge of the plateau unto the battlefield, sweeping past bloody bodies, touching the sweating brows of the soldiers who were fighting for a country. Steel upon steel, body upon body, blood upon sweat. The fighting would never stop, not until every other soldier was dead, and only two remained. Myridia’s people were strong, and proud. They loved their home.
Not all of them did…however.
The Myridians were being overpowered, the Asharian military too strong, pushing too hard, backed against the wall Myridia felt like it had a moment, archers were nearby on the walls, they would provide support…
But they did not fire.
There was a boom, resounding, loud and hollow, and then a loud creak. The gates to the city began to open, slowly, steadily. Panic swept the Myridian soldiers. With Ashar feet before them, it was the worst time to send out reinforcements. But reinforcements didn’t come. The gates continued to swing open, and there was no one behind them, not a soul, as If the gates to the very city they fought for had decided it’s fate, and was welcoming the enemy in.
And so they came.
Hundreds of Asharian soldiers pushed forward, using force, adrenaline, renewed strength that Myridia had given them a weakness, not fearing arrows, knowing well there was no one behind those walls to fight them back, nor anyone strong enough to try, they pushed forward, harder. They pinned the Myridian soldiers into their own city, against their own walls, they broke the gates, and the flooded in, like a vicious tide against a wall of sand.
Her soldiers couldn’t protect her, her civilians couldn’t defend her.
Someone had betrayed her.
The gates were breached.
Myridia would fall.
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