He couldn’t breath. The overwhelming feeling covered his body, engulfing him like a blanket of damnation and pain. It was cold, and hot at the same time. Kind yet cruel, dark yet lit, a mix of emotions, a mix of feelings. The storm did not linger long, for soon he was once again his own self, his own body, laying within a field of decrepit corpses that littered the floor around him.
If I were to show you this place, I would begin by guiding you to where Remorse had been lying. Within a pile of his dead brothers, his chestnut body had been slapped onto the tipy top, and though he was alive it was hard to tell for a giant gash had covered the side of his head, from the bottom on his muzzle, it came straight up ending around behind his eye, but before his ear. This gash was the one that had covered his body in such a gruesome scene, blood staining the pinkish mane atop his head, and his armor had been stripped from his own body to expose the blood covered chestnut fur.
From there, I would promptly turn your attention to the field before him. Located not far from in front of the defeated knight strewn the assortment of Dragonic, Equestrian, and unknown corpses. A sight that was not only melancholy, but seemed to hold a strange sense of peace, once that had not been in the lands for sometime. The nation was at war, ponies fighting themselves over a recently discovered gold mine, nobles had issued a war between themselves in search for their claim to the throne of the Newfoundland. The stables of Air, Earth, and Magic were selling their souls for silver it seemed tearing themselves apart to become the leader of the new nation.
Remorse had lingered longer on his, bittersweetly soft, bed of what he refused to acknowledge for he feared the worse. They were his brothers, his family out of blood, and to see them like this. . . The thought was unbearable for him to withstand, so he simply will not look, but secretly it had little comfort to his sadness. He could get up right now, and walk away, but yet he felt he didn’t deserve it. Why is it that I live? Remorse asked himself, staring up at the skies as his adrenaline began to wane and he could feel the pain that erupted in his head. Why is it that I live, and they die? What makes me the one who does not die? The chestnut stallion turned to look at the lifeless face beside him, remembering of the face before, though he did not remember such pale eyes. Such discoloration in their mane, and so much crimson that still trickled from the hole and the arrow that pierced it’s head.
“Spirit Away.” Remorse said gently to himself, the tired stallion lifting his hoof to rub what was once his friend’s mane, ruffling it and causing the lifeless body to shift in it’ placement of the pile. “Thou, who was never able to hold a blade, rather spend thy time in the books of fantasy and legend. Never had I seen thy lift a hoof when we were not forced. Blank, and cold you now stare, where has that sense of whimsy gone my brother?” Remorse sat up, and used his hooves to grab the lifeless head, pulling the body out of the pile slightly enough to force the lifeless orbs to stare into his own endlessly.
“I loved you as a brother loves a brother. But here you look at me, and I see not love, but rather a cold desolate face of nothing. Nothing. . . . .Nothing shall be all right? There must be something within, but yet you hold none. Same of all our brothers. . . .Where does a fire go when it is put out? Does it vanish into the vague unknown, does it go somewhere else as a tiny spark, or does it just die? Does it exist beyond our life, and can we ever see it again? Or. . . Does it go nowhere. Will we just rot here together, nay say for i can live no life without you. Without my brothers, who now look just as you do brother. I shall sit here , for that is all I can do now. Sit with you, my only family. The only ones who sat with me such horrors. But if I do, will it even be worth it? To gamble on being able to see you, and even if it possible, will it happen? . . . . I don’t know anymore. I fear that in us brothers. I fear many things.” Remorse closed Spirit Away’s pale eyes, and looked upon the faces below. So many, but he knew each one. Sky Reaver, Flintlocke, Snow Rider, Dragon Bane, Blade Heart. . . The still living stallion began to shed tears, the salt searing the large gash on his face, but the other pain was too much for him to notice something as little as that kind of pain. uncertainty had filled his heart, and with uncertainty comes fear. . . .With fear came anger for the Stallion finally got off the mountain of flesh, and staggered and limped towards where he thought the closest town must be. Blood dripping down on the field, staining the earth crimson along with the crimson shower of war.
He did not get far before falling upon the ground, his small fall softened by the body of a drake, stabbed with several equestrian spears, and it’s stare just as cold as those Remorse had just walked from. In madness it is hard to forget that those you fight are much like yourself. Remorse would look into those eyes aswell, eyes he has never stared in before, but yet he saw past those pale orbs and saw laughter, and tears. Good days, bad days, :happiness, sadness: good and bad. He saw it all, and though he was once in such hate for what the drake was, he had pity and empathy for the dead beast. It looked scared, nervous, just as the stallion was with his brothers. They were the same really, the same from different lives. Remorse fell to the side, and felt a small coldness ovecome him. His limbs grew heavy, and breathing became a chore . His face pouring blood along with other wounds, and now Remorse knew he would not last long.
One Blink. . . . .. Two blinks. . . . . It’s strange how life works. . . . .In the end, even simple blinks seem to be cherished. It’s the last certainty you can have befoe like Remorse, you slip away from life.
Author's Note
It's a little jumbled, I know, but hey I just hope you like it. I could use an editor too, if someone would like to help out a new author. 
