Before the fall

His arms dropped, silently swinging through the wind, their soft and pale texture reflecting the bright neon fires. His long hair loose, the strands of red tipped hair flushing over his yellow eyes, cascading like a bloodied waterfall. The deep brown criss-crossing in unkempt strands. Its sheen pulled over his nose, slightly covering his eyes, the bars of hair blocking his eyes, and funnelling the tears. He dropped to his knees, the sword clattering to the floor. The desert sand covered his hands as he pushed against the floor, his body tensing as if he expected to be pulled down. His gleaming yellow eyes flooded with tears.

"I failed." his fingers scrunching into the golden sand, his lips quivering and failing as his face creased and contorted in agony. And then, the soft lips opened. A distant voice calling through the field of corpses. Even though the limp body was right before him… The pain drove Mahon further and further away. His mind curses his eyes for vision, and his heart for life.

.

.

Before the fall

.

.

"My fellow children of Babylon!

I your king, do not command your presence, do not expect anything of you… however I do wish for one thing of all my citizens, I wish for you all to live the life of a king, to live the world of luxury and to bring Babylon to its rightful place as the kingdom of kings. Yet I am no fool, I know this cannot be achieved by my will alone, for the real treasure of Babylon is not the gold, or the gardens… not even the gold that covers my body, it is my people. The ones who will fight for Babylon, for our sons, our daughters and all that come after, for those of us who sell, to those of us who cultivate.

I HUMBLY BEG YOU, NOT AS A KING, NOT AS A GOD, NOT AS ANYONE BUT A FELLOW CHILD OF BABYLON… PLEASE FIGHT FOR THIS LAND!"

The cheers rang through the gateway, the looming walls bringing a cool shade, spreading across the faces of thousands of people. Their weapons held clumsily and were thrust into the air.

And the forces rolled, again Mahon sat uncomfortably in the back of the chariot.

"What are we fighting for?"

"Babylon, of course. We live off our trade, so we must in turn build our empire of trade, to do that we have to invade other lands and build our city."

They travelled for hours, the blazing sun making the troops sweat and the horses tire. Until they arrived. In front stretched miles and miles of people, all chanting and roaring at the top of their lungs, the sand exploding with footsteps and the legions of people. Mahon's body lurched forward, his hands gripping the front of the carriage and launching into the sand.

His small body followed by his tied hair, his small shadowy figure standing before the whole army. His body lowered and his muscles tensed.

And as he charged, he let out a blood-curdling cry, the sound ripping through the shouts of the enemy.