March 6th, 1846.

  Jason's condition was deteriorating rapidly as the days passed. We were on the brink, lacking food, water, and hope, as the snow blanketed our ascent, deepening with every step.

  But we were so close to the pass.

  Jason limped alongside me, our breaths forming icy clouds in the freezing fog.

  Today, everything was about to change. The despair was finally lifting-hope was breaking through. The sun shone brightly, and this morning, we were lucky enough to see it peek out for about three hours before slipping away again.

  It was still dark, thick, and unyielding. Robert nearly twisted his ankle in a misstep, and Clint had been silent for days.

  "Kasey, Kasey, I hear something," Jason whispered, tension thick in his voice.

  "I know," I replied.

  Nearby, the sound of chatter, cracking logs, and commands. It was close, so close.

  Then, after ten more minutes of relentless marching, a voice cut through the silence.

  "You there! Identify yourself!"

  I lifted my cap high and shouted, "We're with the 112th!"

  Silence fell like a thunderclap. A sentry stepped forward, eyes narrowing as he took in Jason's wounded form and Robert's slight limp.

  "Hurry!" the sentry commanded, rushing to help me lift Jason.

  Finally, we had reached it, the mountain pass. Five thousand men, fortified and prepared, with breastworks already in place and six-pound guns poised on elevated positions, waiting for the inhumans to arrive.

  We dragged Jason to the medical camp, laying him down on the floor as a doctor came by and asked me.

  "Illness?"

  I shook my head and turned Jason over, pulling up his coat and shirt to show a purple wound, surrounded by a halo of brutal, dark bruising that spread across his back.

  The doctor recoiled before scratching his head. "He's.. hurt bad on the inside. Leave him here, but I can't promise much."

  And then the doctor knelt down, touching Jason's wounds, injecting him with morphine.

  The sentry then grabbed my shoulder and told me.

  "112th is on the left side. You're with the 72nd..was it the 72nd? Whatever fucking rifle regiment is there. You'll be in good hands." He then walked away, taking his post once more.

  I didn't look at my team. At anybody. I lowered my head and walked to the left flank, where we were told to go. I walked through the center of the army, where the general himself commanded. These men had been here for days, suffering in the cold.

  And I reached the left flank. We were slightly more elevated than the rest. Many men were working on various breastworks, setting up wooden stakes and barricades or pushing snow into piles. A cannon sat ahead of us as artillerymen blew into their hands, seeking warmth.

  I saw the sharpshooter regiment in their white uniforms, short boots, and longer rifles. And then, amongst the men, I found my Sergeant.

  I saluted him, and he saluted me back with such profound respect I've never seen from him.

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  "You've survived." He said.

  "It seems like it," I responded, lowering my salute. Looking back at Ramon, who held the salute.

  "And he is?" The Sergeant asked.

  "A second Lieutenant of the rifles...was. He's a volunteer now." I answered and watched the Sergeant nod and let out a low hm.

  "What information do you bring, Kasey?" The Sergeant then sat down on a barrel, looking at the other side of the mountain, then back at me.

  "The elves.. they're on the way. They use old weapons. Swords.. arrows! Shields.. I have one right here." I pulled out the sword I had forgotten about from my side and handed it to my Sergeant, who inspected it with a raised eyebrow.

  "And they use magic," I said. I saw men who were listening snap their heads toward me. Even the Sergeant looked surprised.

  "Magic. Here? Stay here, Kasey. I'll be back." The Sergeant stood up, taking my sword with him as he walked to the logistical center, where the general and all his men were.

  "Magic?" A soldier said, approaching me, dropping his shovel his face went yellow with fear.

  "Magic. But our rifles will beat them..it already did before." I reassured and then walked down the three-layer defense. Three layers of wooden walls with stakes at the last wall. I went to the first wall and began helping set up wood, reinforcing it with snow and rope.

  And for hours, we did this work. I watched the Sharpshooters leave to climb the mountain ridge that was on our left and right.

  We sharpened sticks and dug them into the ground and cleaned out the rifle every chance we got. We were given rations and water to eat and paper to write letters.

  I was slumped on a wooden wall eating a can of beans watching as Ramon approached and sat in front of me handing me a paper and pen.

  "Can you write Kasey?" He asked.

  "I learned at sixteen..a few years before enlisting," I responded and took the paper and pen from him.

  "Who do I dedicate this to?" I asked.

  "To anyone Kasey. This..is just a confession." Ramon said and took a deep breath rubbing his head as he began.

  "It was 1823. I've been at the front for a week. We assumed the war was going to last for months. I was a Sergeant at that time. I left only days after my wife gave birth when we were called as the empire of Bergstien invaded. At that time they were one of the most powerful armies in the New World. I arrived two days after the war began. The situation was static. We fired at each other for days and days yet no one made the move to advance. But at the beginning of the second week, we were ordered to attack. The assault was madness we attempted to flank the Bergsteiners but their Cavalry had already predicted this move. We desperately attempted to make squares against those lancers, all those young men looked to me for guidance when I had none. The rest of that battle was a blur I only remember bits and pieces of it. I only remember seeing the bloody aftermath of the battle. We had captured the land. A land that was barren and useless still to this day, yet over two hundred men died. The war ended only days later as the Bergsteiners pulled back the following week. The war lasted three weeks and one day."

  Ramon held his breath, letting out a deep sigh before blurting out.

  "Under my command, nine men died due to my indecisiveness. And I was forced to watch each of them die because I froze. Now, over twenty years later, I was forced to watch my family be slaughtered. And I find myself in another war, but now as a man too old to run."

  Ramon looked down at the floor, his eyes red. Soon, he blinked away any trace of tears. I handed him the finished letter, and he nodded, patting my shoulder folding the paper into his shirt pocket, and laid down.

  I lay back against the wall, closing my eyes and falling asleep to the sound of men chattering and the smell of gunpowder and the smell of man.

  I was jolted awake as a cannon fired, and the drummers marched through our ranks, banging a rhythm that only meant one thing.

  "ENEMY SPOTTED!" An artilleryman yelled, and soon, a flare rose up into the sky, exploding into a red hue as trumpets sounded.

  "ON YOUR FEET ALL OF YOU!" The colonel yelled as he dashed toward us, pulling his revolver out.

  We scrambled to our feet, grabbed our rifles, and aimed forward. There they were. Banners raised in proud defiance.

  "COLONEL BAY! YOUR ORDERS, SIR?" Asked an artilleryman as they loaded a new round into the Cannon. We, the infantry, held our ranks rifles aimed at the inhuman army, a silence overcame us before the words spat out.

  "HOLD FIRE!" The colonel ordered. I looked at Ramon, whose hands were trembling.

  "COLONEL MORGAN!" Yelled the general who stomped out of his tent a pipe dangling from his lip.

  "General?" Morgan asked and saluted the general.

  "On my command, you send your flare and let your boys start picking off the elves. Bay! Hold your infantry still until further notice." The general then looked over to the elves. Standing ahead of the entire elven force was an elf who wore the finest steel from head to toe his collar was adorned in various jewelry with a scarlet wool cloak and his helmet was decorated in gold. He slowly pulled his visor up the faint glow of the morning, hitting him.

  The general and the elven Commander's eyes locked for what felt like a tense hour. Until the elf broke his gaze and turned around, disappearing into his army.

  The general then went to go and order the other regiments.

  There was organized chaos in our ranks. Orders barking men some were frozen in shock others trembling some wouldn't stop talking.

  We stood still rifles raised until our arms burned and our legs became sore. Yet not one man broke rank.

  And from the elven army came one soul. A woman who seemed too young to serve. She held her arms around her chest, stumbling in the snow and trembling from the freezing weather.

  "HALT!" The colonel yelled and grabbed my shoulder, dragging me forward with him.

  The elven girl stopped a few steps away from us her eyes were soft and glowed pink in a way that seemed almost unreal. She slowly met our gaze offering a shaky hand. A greeting.

  The colonel stared her down with a gaze of hate I've never seen on a man. The inhuman understood and then took out a parchment holding it toward the colonel, who snatched it out of her hand and passed it to me.

  I took the parchment and looked at it. Words in a language I'd never seen, I looked up at the colonel, confused, and said.

  "Sir, I can't read this.."

  He looked back at me and took the parchment before narrowing his eyes at the elven woman.

  "What in the world am I looking at Lance Corporal?" The colonel asked.

  "That would be inhuman, sir," I answered.

  "Not her. I'm saying this!" He held up the parchment.

  "No idea, Colonel. I assume it's the inhuman language." I looked at the elven girl, who looked at me, then at the colonel, and said something in her language, her voice soft and tired, before she pointed to my rifle and motioned for me to lay it down.

  "They.. they seem to ask for surrender Colonel," I said.

  "SURRENDER? OVER MY COLD DEAD BODY." The colonel barked out and then shoved the parchment back into the inhuman's hand and turned around. I glanced at her. The elven girl was visibly stunned her mouth agape. I then turned around and returned to my position.

  I watched as Colonel Morgan fired a yellow flare into the air. And with that, the sharpshooters hidden in the ridge began to fire. Their first victim was the very elf who took the brave step forward her body now slumped onto the snow ground only a few feet away from us.

  "No going back from here," Ramon whispered and sighed.