We were all monsters

Outside a bar in a narrow alley of bustling Zephyria's capital, a man of small stature but broad shoulders leaned against the establishment's wall. His face, marked by exhaustion and unrest, bore a long scar trailing under his left eye, and his gray hair spoke of many years traversed in this world.

The old man sighed, making an effort not to listen to the story being told inside the bar—he already knew it and knew it wouldn't end well. After all, he had been part of the Iron War, shaped by it.

He never wanted to relive those horrors—not even as a tale. Once strong, considered a monster, he had slain hundreds of enemies, dedicating his entire existence to victory. But even the monsters tremble when the true horrors awaken.

Inside the bar, however, Kael continued to listen with eyes wide open. He knew the story too, but it had never been told quite like this by the old woman. His parents could scarcely remember the war; they were just children when it ended. But the old woman had been there, her wrinkles deepening, her eyes growing vacant, her voice weaker as she spoke.

"It awoke... this thing rose from the deepest hells of the earth, molten and shaped by the infernal flames of the depths, forged to fulfill but one purpose."

The woman trembled slightly and took a greedy sip of her drink before calming slightly.

"I saw it then... at the border of our desert to Ardoria, I was there as the world wept and the continent split. And from the earth, the Iron Titan climbed."

The old woman's voice grew somber, drawing the crowd closer into the fold of her tale, the shadows of the bar seeming to lean in with them.

"The Iron Titan was not merely a construct; it was a cataclysm given form. Massive, comprised of metal and steel plates, it towered as high as a mountain. Each of its steps formed craters, reshaping the very land it tread upon. When it moved, the sound was so devastating it could shatter eardrums, and when it unleashed its wrath, it was merciless and absolute."

She paused, her eyes scanning the rapt audience, every face reflecting the glow of rapt attention.

"On the first night of its awakening, the Iron Titan obliterated Ardoria's entire army. The ground where they made their last stand bore the scars of their annihilation. Only a fragment of Zephyria's army escaped, their spirits crushed, believing the war lost beyond hope."

Her hands trembled slightly, gripping the mug for support, her voice a whisper that carried through the silent room.

"But the Titan chose no side. It marched on, a relentless force of nature, bringing ruin to every nation in its path. When Duskendale attempted to halt its rampage with their divine beast, a four-headed salamander of immense power, the encounter was catastrophic. The Titan tore the mighty creature apart, and to this day, its skeletal remains lie scattered across the battleground, a macabre monument to the encounter."

A collective shudder passed through the crowd, the weight of the story pressing down on them.

"It… killed another divine beast?" Kael thought while he remembered the sight of Talak. How could anything kill something like that?

"And then, after the Titan had decimated every army imaginable, after it had sated its fury, it simply... stopped. As mysteriously as it had awakened, it returned to the earth, retreating into the depths from whence it came, where it slumbers even now."

The old woman let her words linger in the heavy air of the bar before continuing, her voice softer now, tinged with a somber wisdom.

"That was the end of the Iron War. No nation had any freedom left to care about hatred, justice, or any other past emotion. It was solely about survival. We, the people of Zephyria, retreated back into the sanctuary of our desert, licking our wounds, while Solenthia submerged themselves beneath the ocean's waves, hiding from the world's wrath. But even to this day, Princess Camilla remains unpunished. Justice has failed and Solenthia will never be our ally again."

She looked around, her gaze lingering on the young faces before her. "And while the war was more than fifty years ago, its scars can still be seen today. Not just in the land, but in the hearts of those who lived through it, and the generations that followed."

Pausing, the old woman let out a long sigh, the weight of memories visibly settling on her shoulders. "I am thankful, truly, that you children today did not have to witness such times."

Silence enveloped the room as the magnitude of her tale settled over the crowd. For a long while, no one spoke; the only sounds were the quiet creaks of the bar and the distant laughter from outside that seemed so foreign now.

Then, as if breaking from a spell, the audience began to applaud, the clapping slowly building into a respectful ovation for the storyteller who had transported them to another time, another life fraught with danger and despair. A young woman made her way through the clapping crowd to the old woman and offered her a fresh drink, which the storyteller accepted with a gracious nod, her hands steadying with the touch of the glass.

Kael remained still for a long moment, the story echoing in his mind. Around him, the crowd slowly dispersed, returning to their seats, their conversations a murmur in the background as they resumed their drinks and their own smaller stories.

Eventually, it was just Kael, the conceited pretty boy next to him, and a girl he hadn't noticed before, who remained at their spot. But as shocking and significant as the story was, it belonged to the past.

Kael snapped out of his deep reflection and turned around quickly. The dead of the past were just that, dead, and there was nothing Kael could do for them now, but Shukran had suddenly left during the story, seemingly overwhelmed by his own memories.

"Could he still be harboring anger towards Solenthia? After all, he must have fought against them for years," Kael wondered.

He stepped out of the bar and found the old man right by the wall next to the door, his gaze distant and pensive.

"Old man?" Kael called out, snapping Shukran from his reverie.

The former Ramalkin offered a weak smile. "Brat. Is the story over?"

Kael nodded. Then he hesitated, unsure of what to say next. Shukran clearly didn't want to talk about his past experiences in the war, but something had to be said.

Shukran noticed Kael opening and closing his mouth several times without uttering a word.

"Don't pity me, you little shit," Shukran grimaced, "I neither need it nor deserve it. What happened, happened."

Kael took a deep breath and suppressed any pity he might have felt for the old man.

"You seemed upset earlier," he said in a neutral tone, and noticing this, Shukran's expression also softened.

"I was upset."

"Because it brought back memories?"

Shukran scoffed. "No. I dream of those times every night. Besides, my memory is unfortunately very good. As a Binder, you don't age like everyone else."

Kael raised his eyebrows, silently asking what then had caused his outburst. The two stared at each other in silence for a few seconds until Kael finally won the silent standoff, and Shukran relented.

"I was angry at myself. Do you know how old I was when I joined the Sandspears to fight in the war? Sixteen years old, only a year older than you and two years younger than your father when he later became a Sandspear himself. At sixteen, I knew no greater glory than to kill our enemies and dance on their graves."

He sighed. "I was an even bigger idiot than you back then."

"I'm not an idiot!" Kael objected.

"Yes, you are, but as I said, I was a bigger one. What do you think, why did so many people want to become Sandspears?"

"To take revenge for the Sun King?" Kael responded.

"Because the entire nation cried for war. It was nothing more than... a game. We would go to war and reap glorious fame, gain honor, and crush our enemies. And for what?"

Shukran pushed off from the wall and spat on the ground, just as the woman had done.

"This woman claims we demanded justice. We demanded bullshit I say, we were animals wanting to fight. A man couldn't keep his thing in his pants, a woman saw it, and for that, two whole civilizations should suffer."

He laughed dryly.

"And you know what the best part is? We believed it was really the right thing to do. We justified every murder with justice, with the will of Atherion, and to this day, these idiots believe that. This old woman is just one of many examples who believe the Iron War was just. They think they know what a massacre it was, but they weren't there, they didn't kill with their own hands and feet."

Then he calmed down again, and his voice became quieter. He shook his head, apparently disappointed in his own outburst about an old woman. Kael stood frozen, listening to the former Ramalkin.

"But she can't help it. No one can. Almost everyone who could correct her, everyone who could rewrite the history books, died back then. If not by a sword, then under the foot of the Titan."

Then Shukran focused on Kael with a serious look.

"Don't believe for a second that fighting and war have anything to do with honor. What the old woman told was true, but still, she is a liar."

Shukran fell silent, and it took Kael a few seconds to realize that now was his time to ask about what the old woman had lied.

"Why—"

"Why is she a liar, Hadhir?" suddenly sounded a voice behind Kael.

He spun around as he was interrupted and almost threw a punch as the pretty boy who had previously listened to the old woman's story beside him. The boy peeked unnoticed out the door behind Kael, his eyes fixed on Shukran.

Even Shukran seemed not to have felt him in all the commotion, as he let out a soft curse.

"Damn these kids."