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It was hot. The sound of fighting sounded like thunder and rain on the volcano. From afar, flaming arrows and lava made it look like it was erupting, sending chaos in its wake. Smoke billowed as explosions and screams rippled.
Saps looked down and saw that his boots were coated at the heel in almost black blood. This had been a cruel battle. He watched hundreds be slaughtered in mere moments before he escaped. He told Flux to meet him at the colosseum. What were these men even fighting for? Did they know?
“Wow, you actually showed up.” Saps said, his voice was dark as he looked up through his helmet at the warrior standing tall before him. Flux stood on the observing deck, punctual as always, looking down below his feet at Saps.
“Can’t say no to a friend, can I?” Of course Flux joked at a time like this, as he led hundreds of men to their deaths. Their blood was still being spilled as they spoke—and he was smiling.
“Let’s make this a fair fight, okay?” Saps said. He did not respond and the rage, barely kept below the surface, came bubbling up. “Flux, look at all these people dying right now because of you!” His voice was raised, but Flux responded sounding cool as ever.
“You know, Saps, none of this would have happened if you had died like you were supposed to.” He placed his hand on the sword at his side and crouched down. “I’m sorry for everything you had to go through.”
Without warning, Flux jumped down and landed with his sword in hand, ready to fight. Saps immediately ran at him and was blocked by Flux’s shield and thrown off balance. Perhaps it was the light, but Saps swore that Flux’s eyes were glowing under his helmet. He regained his footing and held his shield up, preparing for a counter attack. Flux marched towards him, twisting his sword comfortably in his armored hand.
He lunged, sending his sword into his opponent’s shield; Saps was able to push him off. Dust started to lift into the air from the gravelly ground as more hits were sent flying. There was a cacophony of steel clashing and wood splintering as the onlookers held their breath.
Saps knew that he and Flux were almost evenly matched, but if this was a test of endurance, Flux easily had him beat. Saps had been on the run for months, and Flux always had the upper hand when it came to sparring anyways.
The sky went red and Saps felt the force of all his anger and betrayal crash into him like a tsunami. He swung over and over. He heard yelling, unsure if it was himself or someone else, only knowing that this man, or villain before him, had to be stopped. He had to die. Flux was being pushed back as Sap’s sword was swung over and over. His heels dug deep into the gravel as he braced his body, but Saps hit harder and harder– faster and faster.
No longer aware of what he was hitting, dust in his eyes and lungs, Saps hit something that was not steel or wood. Silence stopped him and he turned his face up. Sweat fell into his eyes as he panted, his throat was raw. His sword had hit its mark, between the helmet and chestplate of his opponent, lodged diagonally into Flux’s neck.
Blood came pouring out of Flux’s mouth, dripping onto his dented chestplate. The only thing holding him up was the dark sword that Saps grasped tightly. Flux spluttered, unable to breathe or speak. The blood dripped endlessly onto the gravel at their feet. The weariness of the end washed over them both, and Saps saw a tear cut down his friend’s dust-baked face.
–
Saps was transported back to the present. He was looking outside his window, but the sky had grown dark. He could no longer see the ocean, only his wearied reflection, where, only a moment ago, he could see his friend’s. Sap wiped at his eyes as he broke away from the window. Those memories were islands away; there was nothing left of them here.
Saps sighed and sat down at his wooden desk, flipping through the book in front of him. His eyes were strained, reading page after page of writing with no answers. Why did you do it, Flux? Saps turned to a section he had read before, a phrase listed of the page towards him:
“If you had to betray one person, to save a thousand, would you?”
“If only you could have saved yourself,” Saps said aloud as he let the journal fall closed.
—---
It was the three-month anniversary of Flux’s death and throughout the island were celebrations and memorial ceremonies for the people at the battle of Infernus. Many parties were held all through the night, full of eating and drinking, laughing and crying, and remembering and forgetting. People needed little reason to enjoy life nowadays; just being alive and not alone was enough.
Saps sat at his own vacation home, hearing his party inside swell and hush intermittently. It had gotten to the reminiscent part of the evening before Saps excused himself, needing fresh air. Out here, it was quiet, save a voice ringing out in the sea air. It was the clear, fond laughter of the grieving.
The night was perfect. The ocean rolled in and out in an uneven rhythm that the salty wind carried it. Saps sat on the steps to his house and set the glass in his hands down. The sea-breeze was refreshing as it lifted from the ocean. This island was supposed to be a getaway, a place to live at peace and be happy. If that was true, why was Saps’ heart so heavy?
The sky was dotted with stars that swirled like the foam on the shore, frozen but sparkling in the full blackness that the universe was made from. This was just one place, one moment, one planet, but it was his. It was Island 2, the land of the rich.
Maybe, in this picturesque night, Saps could understand why Flux spent his life fighting. Good things had a habit of leaving if you did not chase after them. Saps let possibilities be blown away by the sea-air, all there is, is now.
Saps breathed in this picture-perfect night and whispered softly into the sparkling dark sea,
“You picked a beautiful land to love, Flux.”