"Bright blue sky," said the young man. He had been bedridden for so many years that he had forgotten what life looked like before, in the days when he could walk.
"Nurse… can I see the sky one last time?"
An older woman, who looked no more than in her 40s, looked at the boy. He was so young, and yet he had been cursed for the rest of his life.
"Of course, darling. Let me help you."
She pushed the young boy's bed closer to the window.
"You know, nurse…"
Hearing his crackling voice, which had almost no life left in it, all she could do was stare at the patient.
"In the old days, you know, I loved to play games… not the games on computers and phones and stuff, but actual real games. In those games, me and my friends would play pretend, we were captains, or princes, or, you know… we pretended to be everything that our little minds could conjure up."
The nurse touched the patient's almost-too-cold hand. She was not looking at the patient's eyes, but at the already tired, bony-looking hand while she gently massaged it. The young boy loved to tell stories. He loved telling them so much that, in the days when he was feeling a little better, he would not shut up about them. At that time it was annoying, but now… it felt different.
"Sky… isn't it beautiful, nurse? The most beautiful thing a man could dream of."
The room fell silent. The nurse stood up, no longer seeing the need to sit next to the poor boy.
"Time of death: 15:22. Cause of death: organ failure."
…she announced it coldly while saying her last goodbye.
"He was only 20 years old. I hope that in your next life, you will live a better life."
BOOOOOOOOOM.
A big explosion erupted. Was it an explosion? Not really, it sounded more like a big rock crashing into a wall… a wall?
"YOUR HIGHNESS, WAKE UP! WE NEED TO GET OUT!"
Highness? He must be mistaken. I am just a normal person.
He opened his eyes and saw a middle-aged man with two younger men. They were dressed in a weird attire—it looked like an Englishman's armor, but with more chain-mail and padding than actual plate armor.
They were in a strange room, lit only by small slits of sunshine coming from narrow windows and big sticks with fire on them. Around the room were many armor stands and some big, weird-looking weapons, some lying on the ground, some hanging. Clearly, whoever was responsible for this place didn't take good care of it.
"Torches?"
The elder man spoke with all his might, trying to help the young man up.
"YOUR HIGHNESS, WE NEED TO RUN RIGHT NOW! WE DON'T HAVE MUCH TIME!"
It took the boy a second to realize what was going on. This was an armory, a place where weapons and armor were stored.
"Wait… who are you?"
The middle-aged man made an agitated face when he heard the question.
"YOUR HIGHNESS, THIS IS NO LAUGHING MATTER! IF YOU HAVE TIME TO MAKE JOKES, WHY DON'T YOU PICK UP THE PACE A LITTLE BIT…"
Blood splashed in front of the boy's face, covering him from head to toe. He looked at the man, but all he saw now was the face of a dead man and blood gushing from his neck.
The two younger lads screamed. "YOUR HIGHNESS!"
The boy fell onto the ground, legs shaking, unable to stand. What was this feeling, fear? Terror? All he remembered was looking at the blue sky, and now he was being bathed in a stranger's blood.