Long Road Home

**James Perspective**

The battlefield lay in eerie silence, broken only by the faint clink of armor and the murmurs of my men. The sun, dipping below the horizon, cast long shadows over the land that had borne witness to so much death. The scent of blood still hung in the air, mingling with the earth we had fought so hard to protect. I stood among the fallen, my sword sheathed, my hands filthy with dirt.

My gaze drifted over the bodies of friends and comrades. Those who had stood by my side, who had given everything to see this day. It was not the enemy that haunted me now, but the faces of those I had failed to save.

"Bring the dead here."

My voice was low, almost a whisper, but it carried across the battlefield. I motioned toward a small rise, a place untouched by the carnage, where we had chosen to bury our dead. The men obeyed without hesitation, their steps slow and somber as they carried the bodies of our fallen. Some muttered prayers, others worked in silence, their faces hardened by grief. I joined them, lifting the same men I had fought beside, with the hands that had wielded my sword just hours before. I wiped sweat from my brow with a blood-stained sleeve, my heart heavy with each grave we dug.

"Captain, we have cleared the last of the field."


Mark approached; his face drawn with exhaustion. I nodded, swallowing hard before responding.

"Make sure they all have proper graves.”
“No one is to be left behind."

Mark gave a silent nod and returned to the others. I watched him go. Leading them through battle was one thing; bringing them home after such a loss was another. I could feel their eyes on me, searching for strength, for guidance, and the weight of it made the ache in my chest all the more unbearable.

We worked through the fading light, digging graves in the soft, blood-soaked earth. The rhythmic sound of shovels cutting into the ground mingled with the rustling of the wind. When the last body was laid to rest, I stood at the head of the makeshift graveyard, the men gathering in a solemn circle.

I looked out over them, my warriors, my brothers. Some bore wounds, hastily bandaged; others carried scars that would never fade. They had survived, and for that, I was grateful. I cleared my throat, fighting to find the right words.

"We bury our brothers here tonight," I began, my voice steady despite the sorrow that threatened to overwhelm me.
"We honor them for their bravery, for the lives they gave to protect this land."

The men remained silent, their heads bowed as they listened.

"We stand here because of them," I continued, "because they fought until their last breath to give us a future."

A heavy stillness hung in the air.

"We will carry their memory with us," I said, my voice quieter now, "but we cannot linger.”
“At first light, we move for home."

The word home caught in my throat. It had been so long since we had seen it, since we had walked the streets of our cities and held our loved ones. I glanced down at the graves; at the rough wooden crosses we had fashioned from fallen branches.

"They will not be forgotten," I murmured, more to myself than anyone else.

Slowly, the men dispersed, some lingering by the graves to say their goodbyes, others retreating to prepare for the journey ahead. I stayed behind, my gaze locked on the freshly turned earth. The sky had deepened to indigo, the first stars beginning to flicker in the heavens. Around me, I could hear the quiet movements of my men as they settled for the night. Some tended to their wounds, others checked their gear for the march at dawn. I found Mark by the fire, his face illuminated by the flickering flames. He was sharpening his blade, though his thoughts seemed far away.

"Mark.”

He looked up, weariness etched into his features.

"Captain," he said, setting down his sword.
"You should rest.”
"You have earned it."

He gave a tired chuckle.

"Rest comes when we are home."

I nodded, understanding the sentiment all too well. Home felt like a distant dream. Though we would soon leave this place, the road ahead was long and fraught with challenges. The camp quieted, and I made my way to my bedroll, though sleep felt impossible. My mind churned with images of the battle, the men we had buried, and the faces of those I had lost. I lay there, staring up at the stars, flickering like distant torches in the void. Tomorrow, we will set out for home. Tonight, the weight of war still lingered, heavy as the graves behind me.


Dawn broke. I found myself riding along a winding path through thick woods, the scent of pine and damp earth filling my lungs. The weight of my armor, now a second skin, clung to me. My sword, still smeared with the remnants of battle, hung heavily at my side, a grim reminder of the lives claimed. The steady rhythm of my horse’s hooves echoed in the quiet morning.

We had been riding for a few days now. My eyes, hardened by weeks of conflict, softened as I glimpsed the hills framing my homeland. The horizon was painted in hues of amber and violet, the sun climbing the sky. The sight stirred a quiet ache in my chest, one I had buried beneath duty. The rolling hills led to the familiar silhouette of the castle, the kingdom I had fought so fiercely to protect, untouched by the war that had ravaged the lands beyond.

Isabella. Her strength, and her resolve, had carried me through the darkest moments. I remembered her standing tall, hand on her swollen belly, refusing to be sidelined. She had fought for this kingdom just as I had, perhaps more fiercely, because she carried its future. Our child.

The thought brought a smile to my weary lips, though it was tinged with worry. Has the baby been born? Was Isabella well? A knot of anxiety twisted in my gut, quickening my heartbeat. The road steepened, the trees thinning as I neared the edge of the forest. In the distance, the outer walls of the castle came into view, the gates still some miles away. Memories flooded my mind. This land, these people, I had bled for them. Now, at long last, I was returning. Alec’s forces still loomed, a threat that hung over us. This homecoming was only a brief respite.


I glanced at the road ahead, the fields glowing golden in the morning light. My horse neighed softly, slowing as if sensing my need for reflection. I ran a hand over its mane, my mind drifting. Would Isabella be at the gates to greet me? Likely not. News from the frontlines was slow, and my return was unexpected. Still, I hoped to see her, hoped to feel that fire in her eyes once again.

The scent of lavender, a subtle reminder of Isabella, drifted on the breeze. I took it as a sign, a small comfort that I was nearly home. The castle walls loomed larger now, the gates just beyond the next bend. The flags atop the battlements fluttered in the wind. Though the castle was the same, something felt different, as if time itself had reshaped it while I was away. My heart pounded as I reached the final stretch. Home awaited, but so did the battles yet to come.