The mud is red.

It clings to your boots.

It stains the white of your tunic.

You are not alone.

The forest is thick.

The air is thin.

You run.

Your lungs burn.

The sound of pursuit is close.

Snapping twigs.

Heavy breathing.

You are the Warden.

You are the law.

Or so you believe.

The men behind you are not men.

They are shadows.

They are voices.

They are the judgment you have served for thirty years.

You reach the clearing.

The stone stands there.

The Temple.

It is not a temple.

It is a ruin.

It is a skeleton of rock.

It has stood since before your grandfather’s grandfather.

It will stand after your bones turn to dust.

It is eternal.

You stop.

Your legs give way.

You fall to your knees.

The mud soaks through.

The cold bites.

You look up.

The first pursuer arrives.

He is tall.

He wears a coat of grey wool.

His face is kind.

It is the face of your mentor.

Elias.

He died ten years ago.

You held his hand.

You watched the light leave his eyes.

He is here.

He is alive.

He is angry.

"Stop," he says.

His voice is gentle.

It cuts deeper than a blade.

You do not move.

You cannot.

"I have done my duty, Elias."

"Have you?"

"Every day. Every night. I kept the peace. I broke the lawless. I protected the weak."

"Did you?"

"Ask the dead."

"Ask yourself."

He steps closer.

His boots do not sink into the mud.

He walks on the air.

Or perhaps the air is solid for him.

You do not understand.

You only feel the weight of his gaze.

"You were blind," he says.

"I saw what was there."

"You saw what you wished to see."

The second shadow emerges.

It is a woman.

You do not know her.

Her face is a blur.

Her mouth is a dark hole.

She points at you.

"Look," she says.

You look.

You see the mud on your hands.

It is not mud.

It is blood.

It is old blood.

It is the blood of a man you arrested.

A man who screamed for mercy.

You ignored him.

You broke his fingers.

You told him silence was a virtue.

You told him order was a gift.

You were righteous.

You were just.

You were wrong.

The third shadow is a child.

He is small.

He holds a toy soldier.

The soldier is made of wood.

It is painted red.

He looks at you.

He does not speak.

He throws the soldier.

It hits your chest.

It does not break.

It bounces off.

It rolls into the mud.

You pick it up.

It is heavy.

It is warm.

It is your own heart.

You have been carrying it for too long.

It has turned to stone.

You try to drop it.

You cannot.

It is fused to your skin.

The pain is exquisite.

It is the pain of truth.

The Temple looms above you.

The stones are cold.

The stones are silent.

The stones do not care.

They have watched a thousand wardens.

They have watched a thousand lies.

They remain.

They are indifferent.

This is their cruelty.

This is their mercy.

They do not judge.

They simply are.

Elias kneels beside you.

He touches your face.

His hand is ice.

"Release it," he whispers.

"I cannot."

"You must."

"I am the law."

"The law is a cage."

"Then I am the key."

"You are the lock."

You shake your head.

The motion is slow.

The pain is sharp.

"I have no choice."

"You have one."

The fourth shadow rises.

It is you.

It is not you.

It is the man you were before the uniform.

He is young.

He is barefoot.

He has no badge.

He has no sword.

He has only his hands.

He looks at you with pity.

With love.

A primal, instinctual love.

It is the love of a brother for a brother.

It is the love of a soul for its shadow.

He reaches out.

He grabs your arm.

He pulls.

You resist.

The earth shakes.

The leaves fall.

The sky darkens.

You are fighting.

You are fighting for your identity.

You are fighting for your purpose.

You are fighting to be right.

The boy does not fight.

He simply holds on.

He does not let go.

He does not argue.

He does not explain.

He just holds.

And in his hold, you feel the weight of the stone in your chest.

It is cracking.

A hairline fracture.

A small sound.

Like a twig snapping.

Like a bone breaking.

Like a truth emerging.

"Let go," the boy says.

"I can't."

"Why?"

"Because if I let go, I am nothing."

"Are you?"

The boy smiles.

It is a sad smile.

It is a kind smile.

"You are everything. You are just a man. You are allowed to be wrong. You are allowed to be human. You are allowed to bleed."

The mud is rising.

It is swallowing your feet.

It is swallowing your legs.

The cold is spreading.

The shadows are merging.

They are becoming one.

Elias is gone.

The woman is gone.

The child is gone.

Only the boy remains.

He is still holding your arm.

He is still smiling.

The Temple is above.

The stones are watching.

The stones are waiting.

You look at your hand.

The blood is drying.

The blood is black.

It is the color of night.

It is the color of end.

You look at the boy.

He is fading.

He is becoming light.

He is becoming memory.

He is becoming peace.

You realize the truth.

The law was not the shield.

The law was the sword.

You have been cutting yourself with it.

You have been bleeding for the sake of a concept.

A dead concept.

A cold concept.

You look at the Temple.

It is not a temple.

It is a mirror.

It reflects what you are.

And what you are is broken.

And what you are is free.

You close your eyes.

You breathe.

The air is sweet.

The air is clean.

You stop fighting.

You stop resisting.

You let the stone crack.

You let the stone fall.

It hits the ground.

It shatters.

The pieces are small.

The pieces are dull.

They are just rock.

Just ordinary rock.

You look down.

Your hands are empty.

Your hands are clean.

The mud is on the ground.

The blood is in the earth.

The earth will drink it.

The earth will heal it.

The boy is gone.

The shadows are gone.

The forest is quiet.

The wind blows.

It is a gentle wind.

It carries the scent of rain.

It carries the scent of life.

You stand up.

Your legs are weak.

Your body is heavy.

But your spirit is light.

You look at the Temple.

It stands.

It will always stand.

But you are not in it.

You are outside.

You are free.

You are alone.

You are no one.

You are everyone.

You take a step.

The mud is soft.

You take another step.

The mud is deep.

You do not stop.

You walk into the forest.

The trees close in.

The light fades.

The path is unclear.

You do not need a path.

You do not need a law.

You do not need a badge.

You have nothing.

You have everything.

You walk.

The rain begins.

It is cold.

It is cleansing.

It washes the last of the dust from your face.

It washes the last of the pride from your soul.

You smile.

It is a small smile.

It is a real smile.

The rain falls.

The Temple stands.

You are gone.

You are here.

You are the rain.

You are the earth.

You are the silence.

The story ends.

The story begins.

The mud dries.

The stone remains.

The truth remains.

Justice is not a reward.

Justice is a release.

You have been released.

The world turns.

The stars appear.

They are indifferent.

They are beautiful.

You look up.

You see the sky.

It is vast.

It is dark.

It is full of light.

You are small.

You are part of it.

You are not the master.

You are not the judge.

You are a drop in the ocean.

You are a grain of sand.

You are enough.

You walk on.

The forest is deep.

The night is long.

But you are not afraid.

The fear is gone.

The anger is gone.

The pride is gone.

Only the breath remains.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

The rhythm of life.

The rhythm of death.

The rhythm of peace.

You are alive.

You are free.

The Temple is behind you.

The past is behind you.

The future is ahead.

It is unknown.

It is open.

It is yours.

You take a breath.

You walk.

The rain stops.

The moon rises.

The light is silver.

The light is cold.

The light is clear.

You see your shadow.

It is long.

It is thin.

It is yours.

You do not step over it.

You walk with it.

It is your companion.

It is your truth.

It is your shadow.

You accept it.

You embrace it.

You are whole.

The forest fades.

The world fades.

The self fades.

Only the light remains.

Only the silence remains.

Only the truth remains.

The Temple stands.

It will stand forever.

You will not.

But that is okay.

That is right.

That is the way.

The end.