The rain did not fall. It hung in the air, a thick, grey mist that tasted of iron and old stone. I stood in the center of the great hall. The floor was black marble, polished to a mirror shine, reflecting my own trembling hands. I held the sword. It was heavy. Cold. It hummed against my palm, a low vibration that traveled up my arm and settled in my chest.

"Is it done?" I asked.

My voice sounded thin. Small. It died in the damp air before it could reach the walls.

"Almost," said the voice from the shadows. It was my brother’s voice. Or it was the voice I remembered. The name was Edward, but here, names were just sounds. Shadows.

I looked at the door. It was open. Beyond it lay the courtyard. Beyond that, the city. I had sworn to protect it. I had sworn to keep the peace. But the peace was a lie. The peace was a cage.

"Come with me," I said.

"Where?"

"To the edge."

I walked forward. My boots clicked on the stone. *Click. Click. Click.* The sound was loud. Too loud. It echoed in the vast, empty space. The mist clung to my clothes. It made me feel heavy. I felt the weight of the armor. The weight of the duty. The weight of the past.

Edward followed. He moved silently. He was always silent. That was the thing about him. He absorbed the noise. He took the pain and kept it inside. I could see the way he held himself. Rigid. Still. Waiting.

We reached the door. I pushed it open. The wind hit us. It was cold. It bit into my face. I closed my eyes. I breathed in. The air smelled of rain. And blood.

"Do you remember?" Edward asked.

"Remember what?"

"The first time."

I remembered. Of course I remembered. I was young. He was younger. We were in the yard. The sun was out. The light was gold. We were playing with a sword. A toy. We swung it at the air. We laughed. He missed. I caught him. He fell. I held him up.

"You promised," he said now. His voice was soft. Sad.

"I promised," I said.

"Will you keep it?"

I looked at the sword in my hand. The metal was dark. It looked like a wound in the world. I thought of the city. The people. The fear in their eyes. They looked at me and saw a monster. They saw the violence. They did not see the love. They did not see the brother.

"Yes," I said.

We stepped out into the courtyard. The mist was thicker here. It obscured the walls. It obscured the sky. I could not see where the ground ended and the fog began. I felt like I was standing on the edge of a cliff.

"Stay behind me," I said.

"I am always behind you," he said.

I turned my back to him. I faced the fog. I raised the sword. The mist swirled around the blade. It tried to cling to it. It failed. The blade was clean. The blade was pure.

Something moved in the fog. A shape. Dark. Large. It grew. It loomed. I could not see its face. I could not see its eyes. But I felt it. I felt the malice. I felt the hunger.

"Here it comes," I said.

"Is it us?" Edward asked.

"No," I said. "It is the past."

The shape rushed at me. I did not run. I stood my ground. I planted my feet. I tightened my grip on the hilt. The shape hit me. The impact was a thunderclap. My bones shook. My vision blurred. I saw stars. I saw the sky. I saw my childhood home.

I fell. The sword flew from my hand. It skittered across the stone. I lay on my back. The rain fell on my face. It felt like tears.

I heard a scream. It was my brother. I scrambled to my feet. I looked for him. The fog was thick. I could not see him. I could not hear him. The silence was worse than the noise. It was a void. It was a hole in the world.

"Edward!" I shouted.

No answer.

"Edward!"

I ran into the fog. I ran blindly. I tripped. I fell. I crawled. My hands bled on the stone. I cried out. I called his name. Over and over. Like a prayer. Like a curse.

I found him. He was on the ground. He was not moving. His eyes were open. They were staring at the sky. His mouth was slightly ajar. A thin line of blood ran from his corner.

I knelt beside him. I took his face in my hands. His skin was cold. So cold. It burned my palms.

"Edward," I whispered. "Wake up."

He did not move.

"Edward, please."

His eyes rolled back. His body went limp. The life left him. It flowed out of him and into the ground. I felt the warmth leave his hands. I felt the strength leave his arms. I felt the soul leave his body.

I held him. I held him tight. I pulled him against my chest. I rocked him. I sang to him. I did not know the words. I just hummed. A low, mournful tune. The fog swirled around us. It touched us. It tried to take us. But I did not let go.

I looked up. The sky was dark. The stars were gone. The moon was gone. There was only the grey. The endless, suffocating grey.

I realized then. I had failed. I had not protected him. I had not protected the city. I had not kept the peace. I had brought the war into our home. I had brought the death into our hearts.

I closed my eyes. I let the pain in. It was a sharp, hot spike in my chest. It spread to my limbs. It spread to my head. I felt it in my bones. I felt it in my blood.

I stood up. I left Edward on the ground. I could not carry him. I could not bear the weight. I turned away. I walked back into the hall.

The door was still open. The mist poured in. It filled the room. It covered the black marble. It covered the shadows.

I walked to the center of the room. I stood still. I felt the emptiness. It was vast. It was infinite. It was the size of the world.

I picked up the sword. It was where I had dropped it. Or maybe it had always been there. I did not know. I did not care.

I looked at the blade. I saw my reflection. It was distorted. Stretched. Twisted. I did not recognize the face. It was not mine. It was not Edward’s. It was something else. It was the thing that waited in the fog.

I raised the sword. I pointed it at my own chest.

I thought of the promise. I thought of the lie. I thought of the cycle. It was a wheel. It turned and turned. It never stopped. It never ended. We were trapped in it. We were bound to it.

I was the soldier. I was the protector. I was the killer. I was the victim. I was the one who loved. I was the one who destroyed.

I brought the sword down.

The sound was a crunch. A break. A finality.

I felt the cold. It was not the cold of the rain. It was the cold of the grave. It was the cold of the void. It was the cold of the end.

I fell.

But I did not die.

I opened my eyes.

I was standing in the great hall. The rain was hanging in the air. The floor was black marble. I held the sword.

"Is it done?" I asked.

My voice sounded thin. Small. It died in the damp air.

"Almost," said the voice from the shadows. It was my brother’s voice.

I looked at the door. It was open.

"Come with me," I said.

"Where?"

"To the edge."

I walked forward. My boots clicked on the stone. *Click. Click. Click.*

I knew the way. I had walked it before. I would walk it again. And again. And again.

The promise was a chain. And I was the link. And the chain was unbreakable.

I smiled. It was a sad smile. A tired smile. A smile of acceptance.

I stepped into the mist.

The fog closed behind me. The world disappeared. There was only the sword. There was only the weight. There was only the pain.

And the promise.

The distant promise.

The promise that would never be kept.

The promise that would never be broken.

I walked on.