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Sagefire

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Life was… bloody.

That was all you could make of the war in the present time, with casualties piling into the over-crowded medic ward as thousands fell to the cacophony of violent genocide wrought by the seemingly unstoppable Northern Coalition. Niflheim used all they had, their military tactics unrivalled to none. The only hope the Southern Coalition had was the mystical, other-worldly capabilities of the Lucian Crystal.

If the Crystal was to be lost, then Niflheim would reign victorious, and the people of Lucis would fall to mutinous perils like they never experienced before.

“Y/N, bring me a blood pack now! And call Joy Amicitia immediately— we need to administer Life if this soldier is to live through another dawn.” Dr Luche Lazarus barked his orders, and you scurried to follow them like a good nursing aid.

You caught sight of General Clarus Amicitia’s wife standing wearily amongst bloodied, disfigured bodies of doomed soldiers, and you walked forward resolutely. Your eyes were numb to the sight of the sheer gore you saw on a daily basis— a body was only worth saving if it was viable in the long-term.

All these men suffered extensive burns— they were beyond saving.

“Mrs Amicitia?” You called, your voice sharp and precise, emotions stripped and tucked deeply inside you, only to come out at the end of your shift. “You are required at Bed 74. Dr Lazarus’ orders.”

Joy turned to you, her large wine coloured eyes surrounded by dark circles. She nodded wearily and moved to step away from the almost lifeless bodies, only to be halted momentarily by a desperately hoarse cry of her title.

“Unfortunately, they got caught in the midst of an attack by their own officer. Major Scientia managed to win the battle with his attack, but the number of our own men who fell to the attack… I wish his soul peace. He must be suffering from the guilt of the massive loss of his men.” Joy shook her head before turning fully to attend to the viable patient.

Nurse, please… save me.”

You clenched your jaw and turned your head towards the more viable body on Bed 74. Joy followed your example, though she squeezed your elbow gently as she passed you. You wanted to turn back and look at the man who had called for Joy, his voice so strange to your ears for having been so familiar mere weeks ago.

“Y/N… pleaseI don’t want to die! We… w-we were supposed to get m-married…”

You clenched your fists and continued walking forward.

You were on duty after all. You needed save the more viable bodies; the ones who would live to see another dawn. You needed to concentrate on saving the ones you could throw right back onto the battle field with the right amount of magic and medical attention.

“Y/N… please! Please… PLEASE?!

You didn’t turn around.

And you didn’t hear him call for you again.


Dust to dust, ashes to ashes.

Your tears broke from the well practiced emotional barricades you perfected after two years in service. He was gone, and you followed protocol to ensure that the best outcomes for Lucis could be had. Sergeant Felix Agnito, age twenty-five, was a spirited man with a penchant for mischief. You grew up with him, and fell in love with him, and waved him off with tears in your eyes as he departed for the war front on the S.S Leviathan from Galdin Port.

Your eyes had never left his, and you waved at him for as long as you could see the boat until it has crested over the horizon. You wrote letters to him, and his responses were as witty and hilarious as the personality you loved dearly.

He promised you countless hugs and breathtaking kisses on his return back.

He promised you a grand wedding, and seven children. Three boys and four girls. Why four girls?

Girls are cuter, and need their papa more! Come on Y/N, get with the program!

Now Felix would have no boys, and no girls.

Now you would not feel Felix’s warmth enveloping you in a cocoon of protection, his laughter rumbling in his chest and shaking you with his contagious mirth.

You would not feel his lips upon yours, fire and softness, his taste to sweet and his touch so tender.

“Felix… I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”

The guilt threatened to eat you whole.

The fallen had their way of haunting the living, and you… were haunted to the core.