Threats of Fate

With every battle, the unease grew. He watched his comrades laugh and sing after defeating their enemies. Their voices echoed through the night as they celebrated their victories amidst blood and ashes. Every time they called each other "heroes" and patted each other on the back, the feeling that something about it was deeply wrong only grew stronger.

The people he killed often looked just as terrified as he was. Some had eyes full of fear, full of pain, yet no one ever asked him how he felt about it. He was not supposed to question whether these beings were truly as evil as he had been told. "They are not humans," his instructor had taught him. "They are less than that. They have no honor, no soul."

But the young soldier could not get used to it. In his heart, he felt a kind of sorrow that weighed heavily on his chest, one he often didn't understand. Every time he marched onto the field and defeated the enemies, a doubt crept in—a quiet voice that asked him, What if they are just as afraid as you?

But then the orders came, and the voice fell silent.

The soldier recalled the words of his instructor and the stories he had been told as a child. "You are one of the good ones," he could still hear the voice of his village elder, "and the good ones fight to the very end." These words had carried him until today, but now, as he looked at the child lying lifeless before him, it felt as though a veil had descended over his thoughts.

The questions he had once buried began to resurface. And this time, it seemed, there was no way to suppress them again.