Dying would be wonderful. Dying would be so incredibly good because I could be with my family again. But it would be cowardly. And the only thing I hate more than being alive is being a coward.
The sword by my side was a cold presence that mocked me;I would never be good enough to use it proudly.
I waited for the Magi to win this absurd war. It was long past due for us bold enough to venture magic to be recognized for our bravery. But, no, those self righteous humans say it isn't right. Then why do all the other races get to use magic and not humans?
But I was raised with the words: Nothing is fair. So I suppose you have to fight to make things fair.
I watched the Harpies train with spears and such, my arms crossed. They were good, but far from exceptional. I sighed and wished I was as noble as my father to feel proud carrying this sword. He had made it for me by his own two hands. Aonaa means unity, and I had no idea how to ahcieve unity of any kind. I seriously doubted it meant finding unity between all of the races of the world.
I can only hope that winning the War doesn't make us all die.