Banan in solitude

Banan kneeled on rocky terrain, holding his wife’s tattered body. Pain, suffering and grief entered his mind as his head swirled with what he had done. His village was no more. Family, no more. He looked up at his once prosperous home and saw nothing but flame and ruin. There were no more cries, no screams to be heard. Everyone was dead. Waves crashed against rocks below the cliff side, joining the flames in a symphony against his ears.

Banan tore off his gauntlets to pet his wife’s face, his body shuddering with his weeping. A voice hissed behind him. “At last, I have found you, Banan.” One syllable was all he needed to identify the snake. Escaba had returned. Banan set his wife down and stood up, turning to face his former master. Towering above Banan, Escaba had an old, withered face gowned in a bush of beard. He wore a tunic, still letting his enhanced physique to fill his robes. He had slick, gray hair on his head, immensely thin and pushed back. His eyes were sunken back, with dark circles outlining his skull’s sockets. “I will not serve!” Banan spat at Escaba, who’s face went sour. “You will.” A green vapor appeared through Escaba’s hand. Banan fell, overtaken by shock and grief. His view narrowed as he saw Escaba walk away, turning to some foot soldiers equipped with spears, chains, and shackles.

His sight dimmed to black.