Legends start with death

There are some jokes even the gods won't play, they won't play with war.  Instead they will allow their vassals a chance to rise to a holy calling…


They had been reunited for but one night, it was enough to know they loved each other as they always would. As the chosen of the Gods they had to fight, they would end this war leading their people and bring peace so they could return home and finally be together.


Sometime during the fighting they had separated. Franticly she ran across the battle field eyes lighting on every uniform and skittering across each fatal wound until her gaze found where he fell. Gasping she flew to him, dropping her sword, feet lifting her away from the aftermath of the battle that had moved further on. Setting herself slowly down by his side as if any fast movement might cause him pain she gently lifted him free of the mud, resting his head in her arms, she smiled for him a watery version of the smile he would never again return.
… Even rarer is when the gods let their vassals fight back…


Her voice was a hoarse soft whisper. "I love you." Her eyes searched his face, crying at what she saw there. "I love you! You and only you. More than anything in this world or the next please."
Feet crunched over the killing ground; an enemy soldier. Her eyes glanced the way she came, at her sword then to the man in her arms. Holding him close she studied his face and so started the end of her world, the start of a broken heart.
…fighting against fate, against death, against time….


She glanced down at the man she loved and the sword he held in his hands, she took it up.
"I'm not angry at you, not you. But I had to kill you and anyone else who wants to fight in this pointless war." The enemy soldier look at her, eyes glazed, the blood bubbling between his lips and died hearing her war cry as she flew into frenzy. One woman killing many men from both sides, fuelled by the power of the gods to kill and keep on killing until men deserted their posts running. Forcing the war to end.
… They allow their vassals the chance to fight for a futile cause one from their hearts…


Afterwards many tales are told of the goddess who slew a thousand men. A woman so beautiful a thousand more men died looking at her and a thousand more yet had their hearts stopped upon hearing her name. Aya the nameless she would be called in later times from fear, but the Gods would always honor her as the ordinary woman who fought with a broken heart; Aya, the peacemaker.


…only to be born again with a second chance to love…