I look at the massacre around me and see. I see battalions of men and women fighting. I see the corpses of the defeated with the memory of blades on them and the gratification of the victors with their bloodstained swords in hand. I see friends and family weep for the fallen and swear to avenge them. I see mothers hold onto the cold bodies of their sons and fathers getting ready to bury their daughters. I see orphans too young and innocent to fully comprehend what is happening.
Some fight out of anger and spite and others out of pride and duty. Some say it is for their kings and religions others, for their honour and blood. On either sides, pain and grief outshine triumph and satisfaction.
Amongst the combatants, A man sits on his brown horse watching the massacre unfold. Hair and beard like flames, scars on his face and eyes the color of the blood being shed before us, he stares straight at me as a man is stabbed in the back right in front of us.
His face is expressionless, almost like a mask, and the only decipherable emotion is the burning rage dripping from his gaze.
this is the fourth and last installment of my horsemen of the apocalypse serie. I know it does not appeal to everybody but I had an impulse to do it..