The rapture of light gave plants their life and people their warmth. Come the morning, skeletons would return to their graves.

Savagery, Acot... Corgea said. His head hung as he held onto the single, large gravestone. He buckled to his knees.

It was late at night. Thorinozaioka stood behind Acot, near the entrance of the wooden fence enclosing the mass grave. 20 Rowans were buried here. The only light in the scene was Thorinozaiokas lantern whose flame gently swayed back and forth, dimly lighting it. All of the graves had hand-sized rocks put on top of them. Any appreciable amount of stone had already been given to Oshinko whose city walls stood prouder than ever, having had a Rowan army march through it.

We should still march. Thorinozaioka stated, his face illuminated by the lantern. We do not war because it is ea-

THOR. IN. O. ZAI. OKA. Do not tell me why we war! Do NOT ever think its okay to-

I reached out to put my hand on Corgeas shoulder. As I got close, he swiftly swung his entire arm conflagrated in dark aura. He looked back down, he let out a yelp as he strained his throat to hold back his tears.

D-do you know what they call us, A-Acot? Corgea bleated out with as steady a voice as he could muster Skeletons. SKELETONS marched through fucking Oshinko. Skeletons sacked Iirnamen keep. Skeletons set their eyes on- the Iridescen

Another guffaw - Corgea yelled out in agony as he took two mana filled hands and delivered a darkened ground pound onto the freshly filled grave. I felt displaced chunks of dirt fly towards my lower body. I looked back to see Thorinozaioka clenching his jaw and holding his eyes closed and head down.

I- I tried to interject

They were born illegitimate. he interrupted They could cook. They could clean. They could fight as well as any northern soldier. They loved just as hard as the Celestials. They tended their lot in life as well as any citizen of any real fucking country. I could hear the bubble of saliva in the back of his throat; tears overcame him once again. And they were damned from the beginning! I saw one of them on the battlefield. It was the mistiming of a single swing of the blade. That was their mistake. A misplaced parry weighed more heavily than all the graces granted to him by The Illegitimate Kingdom of Bloody Fucking Ro.

A knowing despair radiated in my gut as I heard him sob. The chill of the night filled my arms. With naught but a hollow feeling in my chest, I put my head down.

Youll keep the dead up. I tried to reason with him.

Do you know what cursed feels like, Acot? Corgea quickly quipped, taking a moment to get the snot back into his skull. He looked down at the grave then turned around to look back, sat down and looked up at me. I could just barely make out bloodshot eyes from the light of the lantern.

Corgea, these deaths are- I stammered to start

No, Acot. Their deaths do not weigh on my conscience like that. Do you know how it feels to be cursed?

... I walked into your bloody clusterfuck, I suppose I have an idea. I answered as honestly as I could. The man who just lost a solid chunk of his people only days out from an attack on the mountain deserved as much right now.

A skeleton is cursed with a heart. Even Thorinozaioka is cursed with the dust of one, the ghoul still walks around, anyway. Our blight only grows because we are cursed. Our heart tells us that it might be okay. Maybe the Iridescent Mountain will fall. Maybe we will establish ourselves. Maybe we can live in this world. Maybe we will be able to call a blighted cathedral home And maybe fucking war will go away. Acot, I lead people who have forgotten what okay feels like. Skeletons did not find their way from happy places into Ro. This country may have been as close to happy as theyve ever been. The violence in Iirnamen was the closest they would have ever felt to home.

He took a pause. A long one. The pain in his strained voice made me want to cry for him.

When you wake up in awe of the depths of your damnation. When the feeling in the pit of your stomach takes away your appetite. When your ladder to the moon, made out of sticks and rocks, collapses from its own weight and you are left, looking up from the mud, as rain pours down, you are cursed. That is when the gates of Ro open up to you. Those are the people I allow to fight for me. Those are the pawns Ive allowed into war directly on the other side of the gate of Bloody Fuck Up Ro. There is no salvation for these people, Acot, only ecstasy - only that one glimpse before they die. These cursed soldiers fanned the flames of war.

After a mind-numbing silence, Corgea stood up. He dusted off his shirt. He stared into the lantern clutched in the hand of the unmoving Thorinozaioka - enthralled by the flames dance that had been made blurry by the glass of the cast iron lantern. He blinked and began walking past me back towards the entrance currently occupied by his general. He stopped half way between us and looked back.

I dont believe in perfect, Acot. Once we loot this damned keep and burn what remains of it, there is only one battle between us and the Crystalline Kingdom. Fight with the fervor of a cursed soldier, Dragonslayer. As Corgea put his head down, I could see the white of his teeth make a smirk even with his body blocking the light from the lantern. He turned back around.

Come, Thorinozaioka. There is a war to win.

Tatavorva, cerca vodrial. Tatababaska, Jajavasanek. He replied.

As they left, I took a second to appreciate the dark, sacred graveyard. The imprint in the dirt from Corgeas outburst told the entire story. I quickly followed them out.