Micro fiction

Reflected Storm

They fought therefore they were. The sky lay in tatters; ripped light rippled and reflected on the faces of the onlookers. Their spears and swords were dull and useless.

They stood enamoured by a display of power that they struggled to understand as each attack twisted into deformed shadows.

This eye of the storm was peaceful as the mortals watched. No side was willing to advance on the other.

Then came the silence, with an oppression that seeped into their boots and lingered like a poisonous growth around the heart.

The two gods stood surveying each other. Their eyes were locked in deep concentration. All the air was stripped from the battle field, no one dared to move. This was worse than explosions and raw elemental light. True power was being measured in the passing of moments that felt like centuries.

Every dark thought or moment of cowardice lingered. Although no man cast so much as an arrow a war was waged that would leave men broken.

No one knows what happened to the two gods, but when the survivors recovered their wits they found that the gods had gone and with them their will to fight.