His body hits the floor with a bang and a crack, brittle bones snapping against hard stone. Dead before impact.

'Keep your tongue sharper than your blade and the latter should never dull.'

The scholars’ words curl like nefarious lips as flames eat through his scrolls, peppered with diagrams and teachings, all now but ash on a breeze. Knowledge floats through the air in flurries, lost to this plague that seeks to rid the world of its civility – of peace. Student bodies are strewn among upturned tables and shattered earthenware. But all is not destroyed. His voice echoes in the deeper chambers of my mind, sat beneath this stolen helmet. His wisdoms have shaped me, taught my sorrowed heart how to beat, taught me to control my anger and the power it brings. I need only last until...

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