I was the warrior in the mist. I was the legend. I was the fear of the enemy and the friendship of the ally. I was the evil of the darkness and the happiness of the light. I was the warrior in the mist.
Naois was my name. It was a sacred name. I was sacred. I stood high on a hilltop ready for battle and everyone would fear me. So I stood alone. My eyes were dark and mystical. No one dared to look into them. No one.
I was tall for my age. But no one knew that. No one knew my age. No one knew what i looked like because I kept my hood up, always. Not even I had ever seen my face. I was only 17 winters old. No one knew.
I charged down the hill into the valley where my enemies awaited. I swung my sword at anyone that dared to approch me. Until I reached the leader. He was standing, prepared to fight. I stared into his glowing green eyes.
"Finally i meet the legendary 'warrior in the mist'. Ha. Your just a fool in a hood." the general chuckled. I sniggered too. I lifted my sword, he lifted his. But he was a lot quicker then me.
Before i knew it i was lying on the ground, cluching me bleeding leg. He raised his sword for the final blow when the enemies began to shout. "Retreat. Sandstorm."