"The Sword" by Claire L. Burdfield

The sword made contact. Hot blood ran down the girl’s side, she gasped for breath, her eyes were wide with the shock. That’s it. For her it was over. She laid her dagger and shield on the ground next to her feet, crest up so someone would know who she was when she would be discovered after the battle. She leaned against a tree, sliding down the trunk as her knees slowly gave way. This was not how she was supposed to die. She was supposed to be killed in her sleep, when she was peaceful. She forced herself up, she knew this couldn’t be her end, she wouldn’t let it, stumbling she made it to the edge of the battlefield. She scanned the clearing; her fellows and enemies numbers were dwindling. The ground was wet, though the sun was beating down. She stared at the sky, counting the moments till the battle was over. One good thing about being a time mage, she could take herself out of time. She looked back, her fellows had been victorious, but she could see none of her friends amongst the survivors. She followed her allies back to the giant manor house that was their headquarters and laid herself down on a bed, just to let herself rest for a few moments.

As she slept she dreamt of a time without war, where people could be free from oppression. Her cares faded away and as she slept peacefully the infection from the sword spread through her body. In the morning she was just another poor soldier for the grave.