The valley, located in a chain of mountains far away from any civilization, was filled with an eerie silence.The only noises able to be heard were the moans and pleas of the injured and dying warriors. Only one man remained standing, and as he stood, he thought about the flourishing valley that had just been destroyed. The battle, just hours before, had taken the sweet air and infected it with the coppery scent of blood and smell of fresh dead. The warriors had destroyed the soft grasses and small, but elegant, trees. The ground had been scorched and stained with blood, slippery to walk on. The trees, burning and twisted, were almost reduced to ashes by the people of Fire.
King Kaori took in the pitiful sight, one he had seen many times over the years. The Eternal War between two kingdoms had drawn Kaori away from his people, to fight. He had seen countless battles, but this one was different. This battle was the last.
It had to be, because this was the last of the men in his kingdom, all inflicted with fatal wounds. Of course, there were young boys back in the homeland, but they were too young to fight. Kaori had only survived by the sacrifices his men made for him, and his healing abilities. But the injuries of his fallen were beyond his ability. Even a Master couldn't heal their wounds.
The king, dressed still in his blood-stained armor, was becoming impatient. He wanted to tap his foot, or fidget, but he must retain his regal image. The other king can't see his impatience. Speaking of him, he was late. Judging from the sun slowly sinking below the mountain, it was almost an hour past their meeting date.
Lost in his thoughts, King Kaori didn't notice the figure shrouded in the darkness come from the side of the tall mountains covered in night. The figure was dressed in a black cloak, hiding his features. He emerged from the blackest parts of the darkness and stepped around the soldiers' bodies. This was King Magnor, the man Kaori was waiting for.
"Kaori," he said, nodding politely as he lowered his hood. Without the cloth covering his face, you could see his aristocratic features, dark hair, and midnight eyes.
"King Magnor, you come at last. Have you retrieved the required signatures?" Responded Kaori, no emotion revealed in his tone.
"I have the treaty here, signed. My remaining people have agreed to the arrangement, as have yours." Magnor handed the parchment, tightly bound in a grey ribbon, to Kaori. He accepted it, unfurling and reading over the inked treaty. When he reached the bottom he noticed it was signed by Magnor, and both of their people, already. Reaching inside the folds of his robe, he drew out a quill, ready for use. Before he signed, he snuck a look at Magnor. His eyes had adjusted to the dim light around the other king, and he could see the feelings churning on Magnor's face. When he thought nobody was watching, he had let his emotion show.
Like Kaori, Magnor was saddened, but relieved. This treaty will solve it all. The suffering. The pain. The loss. They had both almost lost all their people in the war. No matter what power they had. None of it was any good, for they were all equally matched.
Kaori signed the treaty, carefully rolling and tying it closed with the ribbon. One thousand years of peace. The people needed to rest, repopulate and train. It was long overdue; nobody alive could remember a time of peace anymore.
Magnor noticed Kaori had signed the contract. It was time for the binding to make it official. The two walked to the center of the battlefield and each grabbed one end of the parchment roll. They raised it above their heads, one half in the dark, one half in the day.
" We, Kings Magnor and Kaori sign this treaty on this day. Today marks a new era, the first day of one thousand years' peace. The Treaty states our two kingdoms will separate and heal, not to meddle in the affairs of mortals for one thousand years. Today the Eternal War is halted, and we separate into the two kingdoms, named today Dark and Day. King Magnor of the Dark, and King Kaori of the Day. So we have spoken, and with the binding words of our powers, so mote it be."
As the men spoke the binding words together in strong voices, the parchment and their hands began to glow with a golden light. This was the binding magic. The parchment rose in the air and a loud boom shattered the solemn air in the glade. As the two spoke the last words, the parchment glowed white-hot and burned, the ashes sinking into the ground. It was done.
They knew their people wouldn't be able to be totally peaceful for one thousand years, but this prevented deaths and major battles. The Eternal War is stopped.
Both men had the exact same thought. It's finally over.