The smell of death hung low in the air, a sweet, rotting, stench of blood and gristle.

After the battles...the world was made of red.

He was extremely quiet.

He didn't say a word. Just stared into the sky and pondered what had just happened. He gripped his blade in one hand and something else in the other. Something small...something blue. It glinted purple, however, in the dying red sun. Upon closer inspection, you would see what it was.

A necklace.

Blue crystal dangling on the fraying thread.

He clutched it in one sweaty hand and, every so often, glanced at it with crimson eyes. His eyebrows turned downwards, making him look older than he actually was. He felt old. He felt divided.

Parts of him started chipping away, bit by bit by bit. Falling to the ground. Splintering.

But his hands were full.

He held his blade. And he held her necklace. He glanced at both, then sheathed his sword and tucked the necklace away. For some reason, he decided to keep it.

He felt dismembered. Disembodied. Split.

The fading sunlight caused the shadows to lengthen. They stretched out, some of them forming into people-like shapes. Humans.

And they moved. Moved with the bloody red orb that hung low in the sky.

He walked through them, breaking them like they were butter.

And he headed for home.