A Game

The king’s arm shoot skywards.

The sword encrusted in his hand glows a rusty red in the noon sun. Some from the line whisper it is on fire. Zeus commands the king’s destiny. The older warriors know better though. They shake their head. The truth is many will die today.

That’s the truth.

Lots of death.

The Gods don’t care which side wins, either way their paradise remains unchallenged and their entertainment is purely for sport.

They don’t pick sides often.

The sword glows red because it demands blood.

All too soon it will drink its full.  

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