The air was filled with the screams of dying men and clattering shields. The very colour of the skies seemed to be painted red as the two armies clashed on the outskirts of Mount Jahu. The skies were red, the stream flowed red and red dropped the tears from the young man’s face.

No no, I need to stop it, the man was desperately muttering the words. Sitting in a dark corner, the man was shivering, huddled in a blanket and in his own demons. He tried to get up but his legs started shaking. It’s just the cold, whispered the insane man to himself. But, no it wasn’t cold, it wasn’t even fear. It was the sheer guilt. More than a hundred thousand men will die before the day’s end, all because of me whispered the man.

But I never could’ve stopped it, these are the whispers of a man who has reached the end of his rope, he is looking for something to cling upon. A branch, a twig, maybe even a pebble, anything to grab on. For he feared no armies nor any king, he feared his demons the most.

The man forces his ears shut to spare himself from the agonising sounds of the battlefield. He could hear the wails of widows thousands of miles away in the capital. The cries of kids who will never get to see their fathers again.

He could see them. The shadows of the men whose deaths, he was responsible for. Each second, they were increasing. Glaring at him with red, haunting and accusing eyes.

He musters all his strength and moves towards the wall of his cell. He bangs his head as hard as he can.Why isn’t this sound stopping. Bang. Make it stop . Bang. Someone please make it stop. The shadows are growing larger. They’ve come for me, He’s come for me. One of the shadows reach out and yank him by his torso.

The man tries to resist but is easily overpowered. They lift him on their shoulder and take him away.

The skies were red, the men wore red and red froze the tears on the Crown Prince face.