The Last One by Stephen Herczeg

Dark skies greet me as I wake.

Pain strikes my flesh. ‘Tis nothing compared to that of my friends, my comrades, my enemies. Dead, littering the battlefield, unmoving.

I am the last one. The conqueror.

Gold shimmers above the corpses. Their spirits stand as one.

The great gates of Valhalla open. Silently, they march into paradise. An eternity of drinking, feasting, and fighting.

The gates shut.

Alone again, I drop to my knees screaming to be invited inside.

Alive, Valhalla will never accept me.

Gripping my axe, I set out for combat. I must fall, and others will join me.