HTML Link: A'na'la's original publication

I sat up in bed. The visions of the futureā€¦ or were they the past? were too much for me. The war did this to everyone, but I knew for sure that I was never meant for this. But I fought on. Day after day, hiding, running, shooting. A warrior's life. A'na'la. I haven't used my native language in a long time, but that was the one word that applies to a warrior's life. It's actually three words, combined for one meaning.

A means "the" in our language. It's not a directly accurate translation, but it's close enough. Na means death. That is an accurate translation. La means life, or valiant warrior (roughly "savior" through violence). Combine it and it as a phrase means "The death of a warrior.". It's the term used for the stress a soldier suffers in war.

Granted, I wasn't fighting a war. The Empire was too strong for that. Sure we could do something against them, but ten-thousand to one is a bad way to fight a war. We did what we could. We fought back. They had a mech, we would take it down. We'd lose eight people, but they'd lose eight billion credits. In the end we were the annoyance they had to squash.

We should've known we had too many recruits. Too many of our veterans were succumbing to A'na'la. We were down to having more than thirty percent of our men joining in the same month. It seemed good at the time. But they were all spies. We started losing every battle. Our only chance to survive was through Ma'na'la.

Ma means roughly "to hide and decieve", but also carries a connotation of rebirth. So Ma'na'la is a term for going into hiding, but surviving. Granted, as rebels we were already in hiding. But we had our mages stop attacking, we kicked out the new members, and we started switching to pure sabotage and theft. No more head-on attacks. After a couple months, we had a normal number of soldiers to begin our final assault. We actually hijacked two mechs. That's about how far we managed to get, though. We took down a fair deal of the governor's mansion, though. We were like a small army. We freed our homelands, the Empire had to leave. But all of our original members were dead. We started a full-on rebellion, and we re-achieved nation status.

However, some of us were taken prisoner and taken back to the Imperial lands. That's me. Every night I see my homeland in flames, for I know the Empire plans to strike. The futility of resistance seemed to be nothing, but now I know that all we have done has been to bring about our own damnation. The curse of a mage is their knowledge.

Erathoniel's Notes: This is my first experiment with conlanging. I'll keep a log of definitions on my wiki. This is also the first Mechromancy universe fiction.

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