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GRIMDARK FANTASY FLASH FICTION
The Great Reduction
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The sky filled with arrows, blotting out the sun for a moment. The battlefield felt like a giant, heaving chest. Men were breathing in, breathing out, over and over, until their last breath. Foot soldiers screamed as they fought, swinging their swords, shouting for causes they didnβt fully understand.
The archers, though, understood everything.
On both sides of the battlefield, hidden among the ranks of the faithful, they knew their true purpose. Their gods did not wear crowns, nor did they whisper empty promises of glory in the afterlife. Their gods were balance, dissolution, and the sweet economy of chaos.
And so, with every well-placed arrow, they served.
It was subtle at first β just enough to keep both armies equally bloodied. A stray shot through a generalβs calf, a mistimed volley that struck the backs of retreating allies, a whispered miscalculation that sent ranks into disarray. The generals blamed theβ¦
