Drabble Wednesday: Consequences

Three dark fantasy drabbles for you today about the untended consequences of war…

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Desperation and a formidable enemy led to the blunder. A king dangling gold for anyone who might offer up their foe’s certain destruction. That is why the ancient books were opened, why the forbidden magic was considered.

After all, weren’t the mages more advanced now, compared to the ones in previous ages? Surely they could control the forces to be conjured from the pages?

So spells were read and pondered, researched, ingredients found in alley shops. They smiled at their own cleverness and felt certain their spell, the Scourge, would decimate the enemy. 

They were so right.

And so wrong.

The Final War

Red mist and the smell of tart cherries. That is what heralded the coming of the Scourge. No one in my village was prepared; we knew of the war, but it happened somewhere else, far from our small part of the world.

Until the day it came to our doorstep.

The mist saturated our homes, choking us all with its sickly sour stench. Death did not come easily. Convulsions, vomiting, gasping for every breath until we perished. Only then did the Scourge move on.

But it left us all behind. A village of ghosts, forever tethered to our former lives.

No One Left To Regret

The cold, biting wind of winter howled across the empty field, rustling the rotting, desiccated husks of grain. The farmers were dead, wiped out by the Scourge as it devastated the kingdoms. Village after village, town after town, and on into the cities. It spared no living creature, not animal or person, not enemy or ally.

Those that unleashed it were the first to die, the seaborn kingdoms the last. Not even those of flight escaped; for even wings tire. The Scourge did its work far too well, and only the wind and shadows remained.

The war left only death.

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