The Masters Of Fate | BANDERA FELLA

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Even the already burned forest burns again. The line of trees is shattered by fire, devouring bunkers and shelters without mercy. Dry weather turns the sector into a tinderbox, igniting from every shell and tracer.

Soon, this will become a barren wasteland where nothing lives. But we, the last vestiges of life, will endure through the kingdom of ashes. We will hold the line, standing among the charred trunks like ghosts in purgatory.

We breathe smoke and soot, each breath a reminder of how close death is. The blackened, charred trees silently witness our Slava, day by day, night by night. Sacrifice by sacrifice. Yet, we do not falter. We are the keepers of this desolation, the guardians of a legacy forged in fire and blood.

I feel the stench of burning flesh on my tongue, the cauldron of smells clinging to our uniforms and skin. The screams of wildlife caught by ears, a well-known tone of suffering, sucked into memory, haunting dreams. Birds fall from the sky, their feathers ablaze, crashing to the ground like fiery comets. Animals, trapped in a futile dash for survival, become living torches. The trees, now charred and mangled, offer no concealment from the sun or enemy. They stand like blackened sentinels, waiting for the artillery to finish its work. We wait with them, ears attuned to the whistling of incoming shells.

Time warps, blending into an eternity of dread. Forms from the flickering flames take on a life of their own, exploding with the light of incoming artillery, hypnotizing me. Ancient oaks howl in pain, singing a requiem that vibrates with malevolence, as if the forest itself has become a vengeful spirit thirsting for more destruction. For revenge.

I guard these gates, standing with honor, bringing the horror. This is my domain, and here fear reigns supreme. Life will grow again, but on the bones of the fallen, nourished by the blood and sweat of those who fought and died here.

I rule with an iron will, a sentinel against the forest of the dead, its roots entwined with the remains of the brave and the damned. We are the masters of fate. Day by day, night by night.