Morning rose on Watcher's Retreat; the grassland surrounding it was wet with dew. Were it under any other circumstances such a sight would be a pleasure to behold.
However, all the spectators of such a beautiful morning wore nothing but grim expressions. They were all aware of what the first light of the morning meant, and it was a march of death.
Before the day was through many of the faces that made up the forces marching through the grass would mark today as the last sunrise they would see. Such was a fact of war and such was the fate of a soldier.
Even though he had never fought anyone before, a soldier's fate was the only one that awaited poor Zeb. He was a simple farmer by birth and instead of taking the opportunity to train in a guild or take on some other opportunity, he used the reprieve Marked Ones had received to spend more time with his family.
He was lucky in the fact that his family treated him like they treated everyone else despite the fate handed to him by birth. Though it could be related to the fact that Zeb's mark was the Mark of Downpour. It was a measly mark that had no real use, beyond producing a small rain shower in a one-hundred-foot diameter circle.
Though it had no real combat potential, for someone born to farmers, it was quite useful to the family. On more than a few occasions his mark had saved his own family's crops as well as the crops of nearby farms during short droughts.
Because of his 'weak mark' he was able to live a fulfilling life. Though now he was dressed in a strange amalgamation of armor that was essentially slapped together of whatever pieces of spare equipment that was available. In his hand was a simple mace and in the other a round, wooden shield.
Despite the hopelessness of the situation, Zeb pressed on. A wise woman visiting the village had once said to him: "Fighting against one's fate may only give you a small chance to change it, but resigning yourself to it will only guarantee it... and isn't it always better to take a chance?"
He had no idea if he had the power to change the hand he was dealt, but like the woman said, it was always better to take a chance. That was why he would not let himself feel defeated before the battle had begun.
They were not the entirety of the force heading into battle today, rather they were reinforcements made up of the new arrivals that would be bolstering the lines already present, and so they marched on.
After what felt like hours, though really was at most only one, the force Zeb was a part of finally reached the rear guard of the front lines. Those present looked haggard and beaten, many had faces hung low in defeat. To put it bluntly: morale was rock-bottom.
Another attacker came at him from the other side and he somehow managed to block the swing with his mace. Every part of his body screamed in protest as he was defending two attacks at once. There was a strength to him that surprised him. Maybe it was all the hours hauling hay, satchels of feed, and clearing land that gave him more strength than he realized.
Or maybe it was simply luck and adrenaline. The fear and pain pushing him past his limits.
The ground around him was wet with mud thanks to his and many other people's water spells and marks clashing on the battlefield. His body was caked in mud and blood.
It was only a moment later, when he thought that his strength was going to fail him, that he felt a new sensation enter the space. He was not the only one who felt this as his attackers seemed to weaken their own assault.
The very air itself felt... charged... like it would before a bad storm. Zeb looked down at the exposed parts of his arms under the ripped armor and clothes. The visible hairs stood on end.
Off in the distance he caught sight of a boy with black hair. One of his eyes glowed a brilliant gold and his hand was held outward. He stood on a hill overlooking the battlefield.
His words echoed across the silence that had permeated the battle momentarily. "[Tempestas: Lightning Strike]"
The charged air began to burn and a massive bolt of lightning descended down between the two forces. Zeb's vision was taken over by white light, his hearing destroyed by a deafening clap of thunder. He felt his muscles spasm uncontrollably as his entire body felt like it was on fire.
For a moment the world went black, but then when his vision returned, the fighting immediately around him had ceased. His body would not listen to his commands to move.
Zeb had no idea what happened, however he witnessed as a few arcs of electricity seemed to periodically jump between bodies around him. He then remembered the water that surrounded all their feet and immediately realized the after effects of that spell.
Darkness began to take him over again. There was no pain and even the sensation of water against his face began to vanish. Zeb knew it was coming..."I took a chance... but I still lost by fight against fate."