The seal was wet.

It sat on the parchment. A red circle of wax. Fresh.

Thomas stared at it.

The hall was cold. Stone walls. Damp air. He smelled mildew and old iron.

He was alone.

The torches sputtered in the corners. Shadows danced. Long and thin. Like fingers.

Thomas touched the wax.

It crumbled.

A small cloud of dust. It settled on his glove. Black. Like soot.

He had guarded this door for ten years.

Ten years of standing. Ten years of silence. Ten years of watching the ink dry.

Now the seal was broken.

Not cut. Not cracked.

Worn away.

Like skin. Like old paper.

Thomas felt a cold knot in his stomach.

He looked down the corridor. Dark. Deep.

He walked.

His boots echoed. Clack. Clack. Clack.

The castle was awake. He could hear it. A low hum. A vibration in the floor.

He reached the door to the Lord’s chamber.

It was open.

A crack. Just a sliver of light.

Yellow. Warm.

Thomas pushed the door.

It groaned. Wood against stone.

He stepped inside.

The room was empty.

The bed was made. The sheets were white. Smooth.

But the air was wrong.

It smelled of lavender. And fear.

Thomas moved to the window.

He pulled the curtain.

The city lay below.

It was night.

But the streets were bright.

Lanterns. Hundreds of them.

They glowed like stars fallen from the sky.

People moved in the streets. A river of light.

Thomas watched.

He saw the Mayor.

Lord Aldric.

He stood on a balcony. High up.

He was waving.

His hand moved in slow circles.

The crowd cheered.

Thomas could not hear them.

But he saw the mouths open. Saw the faces turn up.

They loved him.

They always loved him.

Thomas turned back to the room.

He felt sick.

Why was the seal broken?

Who had been here?

He walked to the desk.

The inkwell was full.

The quill was dry.

There was a letter.

Unsealed.

It lay on the blotter.

Thomas picked it up.

The paper was thin.

He read.

*My Dearest Thomas,*

*I write this in haste. The matter is done. They do not know. Let them think what they will. I have kept the city safe. I have kept you safe. Do not look for me. Do not ask. Just keep your post. Keep your silence. It is the only thing that matters.*

*Your Friend,*

*Aldric*

Thomas dropped the letter.

It fluttered to the floor.

He stared at it.

He did not understand.

He looked at the door.

Then he looked at the window again.

Lord Aldric was still waving.

He looked happy.

He looked kind.

Thomas felt a anger.

Hot. Sharp.

It burned in his chest.

He grabbed his sword.

It was heavy.

He walked to the door.

He opened it.

The corridor was empty.

He walked out.

The stairs were steep.

He took them two at a time.

His breath came in short gasps.

He reached the main hall.

It was crowded.

Servants. Guards. Nobles.

They all wore black.

They all held candles.

A funeral?

No.

A feast.

Tables were laid. Long. White.

Food. Wine. Music.

Thomas pushed through the crowd.

He was a wall of muscle.

People stepped aside.

They did not like him.

They never did.

He was the dog. The guard. The shadow.

He reached the head of the table.

Lord Aldric sat there.

He was laughing.

He held a cup of wine. Red. Dark.

He saw Thomas.

His face changed.

The smile vanished.

His eyes went wide.

Thomas stopped.

Ten feet away.

The music stopped.

The silence was loud.

Aldric stood up.

He set the cup down.

He did not raise his hands.

He did not reach for his own weapon.

He just looked at Thomas.

"Thomas," Aldric said.

His voice was soft.

Calm.

"Put the sword away."

"No," Thomas said.

His voice was rough.

Like gravel.

"You broke the seal."

"I did not break it."

"It was worn away."

Aldric nodded.

Slowly.

"Yes."

"Why?"

Aldric took a step forward.

He was old.

His knees were bad.

He leaned on a cane.

But he did not look weak.

He looked tired.

"Because I had to go," Aldric said.

"Where?"

"Away."

"To where?"

Aldric smiled.

It was a sad smile.

"You know."

Thomas shook his head.

He did not know.

He wanted to know.

He wanted to hit Aldric.

He wanted to tear the truth from his throat.

"I am the guard," Thomas said.

"You are my friend," Aldric said.

"Friends do not lie."

"Friends do not stay."

Thomas raised the sword.

It was a small blade.

Short. Sharp.

It was for close combat.

For stabbing.

For killing quietly.

Aldric did not move.

He closed his eyes.

He opened them.

He looked at the sword.

Then he looked at Thomas.

"Do it," Aldric said.

Thomas froze.

The tip of the sword trembled.

An inch from Aldric’s chest.

"Do it," Aldric repeated.

"Strike."

Thomas did not strike.

He lowered the sword.

His hand shook.

"Why?" he whispered.

Aldric stepped forward.

He was close now.

Thomas could see the grey in his beard.

The lines on his face.

The fear.

Not of death.

Of pity.

"They will say I fled," Aldric said.

"They will say I was a coward."

"They will say I abandoned the city."

Thomas looked at the crowd.

They were staring.

Their faces were blank.

They were waiting.

Waiting for blood.

Waiting for a story.

"They do not know," Thomas said.

"No," Aldric said.

"They never know."

Aldric reached out.

He touched Thomas’s arm.

His hand was cold.

It was dry.

"Go," Aldric said.

"Leave the sword."

"Leave the city."

Thomas looked at the door.

It was open.

The wind blew in.

It smelled of rain.

Thomas dropped the sword.

It clattered on the stone floor.

The sound echoed.

Sharp. Final.

He turned.

He walked to the door.

He did not look back.

He walked out into the night.

The rain began.

Light at first.

A mist.

Then it grew heavy.

Cold.

Soaking.

Thomas walked.

He did not know where he was going.

He only knew he had to go.

The city lights blurred.

The faces blurred.

The truth blurred.

He was wet.

He was cold.

He was free.

Or he was lost.

It was the same thing.

He walked until the streets were empty.

He walked until the castle was a dot in the distance.

He walked until his legs burned.

He stopped.

He stood in the middle of the road.

He looked up.

The sky was dark.

No stars.

No moon.

Just clouds.

Thick. Heavy.

Like a blanket.

He breathed.

The air filled his lungs.

It tasted of iron.

Of stone.

Of rain.

He thought of the seal.

The red wax.

It was gone.

Worn away.

Like everything else.

He thought of Aldric.

His face.

His eyes.

The sadness.

The acceptance.

He had not fought.

He had not defended himself.

He had just let it happen.

Let the truth die.

Let the lie live.

Thomas closed his eyes.

He felt the pain.

Deep.

Inside.

In his bones.

In his blood.

He opened his eyes.

He walked on.

The rain fell.

It washed the street.

It washed the dust.

It washed the memory.

But it could not wash the guilt.

It could not wash the love.

He was the guard.

He was the friend.

He was the traitor.

He was the man who left.

He walked into the dark.

The mist swallowed him.

One step.

Another.

Silence.

Then, nothing.

Only the rain.

Only the road.

Only the long, cold night.

He did not stop.

He could not stop.

To stop was to remember.

To remember was to break.

And he was already broken.

Worn away.

Like the seal.

Like the wax.

Like the truth.

He walked.

And the city slept.

And the lie grew.

And the man disappeared.

Into the mist.

Into the dark.

Into the nothing.

The rain continued.

It fell on the stones.

It fell on the grass.

It fell on the tombstones in the distant cemetery.

It fell on the sword lying in the hall.

The sword was still.

The hall was quiet.

Lord Aldric sat back down.

He picked up his cup.

He drank the wine.

It was warm.

It was red.

He looked at the door.

The door was closed.

The seal was gone.

The story was over.

The lie was born.

He smiled.

A small smile.

A private smile.

No one saw.

No one heard.

He was alone.

He had always been alone.

And now, Thomas was alone.

Two men.

Two shadows.

Two lies.

The mist rolled in.

It covered the windows.

It covered the street.

It covered the world.

And the night went on.

And the night went on.

And the night went on.

Thomas walked.

The road was long.

The rain was cold.

The heart was heavy.

He did not look back.

He could not.

To look back was to see the lie.

And the lie was too bright.

Too warm.

Too false.

He kept his head down.

He kept his eyes open.

He saw the rain.

He saw the mud.

He saw the end of the road.

There was no end.

There was only more road.

More rain.

More dark.

He walked.

He walked.

He walked.

Until he was no one.

Until he was nothing.

Until he was gone.

The mist took him.

The mist took it all.

The seal.

The sword.

The truth.

The love.

The lie.

All gone.

Worn away.

By time.

By rain.

By silence.

By the long, cold night.

And the city slept.

And the city slept.

And the city slept.