The rain fell like a curse on the cobblestones.

It was a cold, grey drizzle that soaked into the bone. It did not stop. It would not stop. The city of Oakhaven lay under a shroud of mist and old stone. The air smelled of wet wool and rotting wood.

Thomas stood in the alley. He wore his armor. The steel was dented. The leather was cracked. He held his sword by his side. It was heavy. It was cold. He did not move. He waited.

The gate opened. A man walked out. He was tall. He wore silk. The silk was red. It was the color of blood that had dried. He did not look at Thomas. He looked at the sky. He looked at the rain. He seemed to enjoy it.

"Thomas," the man said. His voice was soft. It was like silk on stone. "You are still here."

Thomas did not answer. He kept his eyes on the ground. The puddles reflected the moon. The moon was pale. It was a thin sliver. It looked like a broken nail.

"I gave you the order," the man said. He took a step closer. "Three days ago. You were to leave. You were to go to the coast. You were to disappear."

Thomas shifted his weight. His boots made a wet sound. "I cannot."

The man stopped. He tilted his head. A smile touched his lips. It was a sad smile. It was a cruel smile. "Why not?"

"Because."

"Because what?"

"Because you are wrong."

The man laughed. It was a dry sound. Like leaves skittering on a roof. "Wrong? I am the Lord of Oakhaven. I am the law. I am the order. How can I be wrong?"

He stepped into the light of the lantern. The light was yellow. It was weak. It barely pushed back the dark. The man’s face was pale. His eyes were dark pits. He looked at Thomas with pity.

"You are a good soldier, Thomas. You are a strong man. But you are blind. You do not see the truth."

"What truth?" Thomas asked. His voice was low. It was a rumble in his chest.

"The truth is that the world is cruel. The truth is that power is the only thing that matters. The truth is that we are all dust. We are all waiting to die. I offer you a place in that dust. A comfortable place. A warm place."

Thomas looked up. He looked into the man’s eyes. He saw nothing. He saw only a void. He saw a hunger.

"I will not," Thomas said.

The man sighed. It was a long sigh. It was the sigh of a man who had been disappointed too many times. "Very well. Then you must die."

He turned and walked back into the building. The gate closed. The sound was a thud. It was final. It was heavy.

Thomas stood alone. The rain continued. It washed the blood from his sword. It washed the dust from his face. It washed the world clean.

He began to walk. He walked towards the square. The square was empty. The fountain was dry. The statues were old. They watched him with stone eyes.

He walked past the baker’s shop. The sign creaked in the wind. He walked past the church. The bells were silent. He walked past the market. The stalls were closed. The cloth was wet.

He reached the center of the square. He stopped. He looked up. The moon was still there. It was still pale. It was still watching.

A figure appeared from the shadows. It was a child. It was a girl. She was small. She was quiet. She held a basket. The basket was empty.

"Master Thomas," she said. Her voice was like a bird. It was high. It was clear.

Thomas looked at her. "What do you want, child?"

"I want to see you," she said. "I want to know if you are real."

"I am real," Thomas said.

"Are you strong?"

"Yes."

"Are you good?"

Thomas did not answer. He could not answer. He was tired. He was broken. He was a weapon that had been used too long.

"Come with me," she said. She held out her hand. Her hand was small. It was cold.

Thomas looked at her hand. He looked at her face. He saw fear in her eyes. He saw hope. He saw a mirror.

He took her hand.

They walked. They walked through the streets. The rain followed them. It did not stop. It was relentless. It was eternal.

They reached the castle. The castle was high. The walls were thick. The gates were iron. The guards were asleep.

Thomas led the girl inside. The halls were dark. The torches were out. The air was still.

They climbed the stairs. The stairs were stone. They were cold. They were endless.

They reached the top room. The door was open. The Lord was there. He sat in a chair. He held a cup. The cup was gold.

"Ah," the Lord said. "You brought the girl."

Thomas put the girl behind him. He drew his sword. The steel sang in the air. It was a high note. It was a cry.

"Stay back," the Lord said. He did not stand up. He did not draw his weapon. He looked calm. He looked at peace.

"Give me the city," Thomas said. "Give me the people. Give me the truth."

"I cannot," the Lord said. "I am not the one who holds the truth. I am just a shadow. The truth is in the stone. The truth is in the rain. The truth is in the silence."

Thomas stepped forward. He raised his sword. He swung.

The sword hit the Lord. It hit his chest. The Lord did not fall. He did not bleed. He looked at Thomas. He smiled.

"You see?" the Lord said. "I am already dead. I have been dead for a long time. I am just a ghost. I am just a memory."

Thomas swung again. The sword passed through the Lord. It hit the wall behind him. The wall was stone. It did not break.

Thomas fell to his knees. His sword fell from his hand. It clattered on the floor. It was a sharp sound. It was a lonely sound.

The Lord stood up. He walked to the window. He looked out at the city. The rain was still falling. The city was still there. It was the same. It had not changed.

"Thomas," the Lord said. "You were right. You were strong. You were good. But you were wrong about one thing."

"What?" Thomas whispered.

"Justice is not a weapon. Justice is not a sword. Justice is the rain. Justice is the time that passes. Justice is the end. And the end is always the same."

The Lord turned to Thomas. He put his hand on Thomas’s shoulder. His hand was cold. It was like ice.

"Rest now, Thomas. The battle is over. The war is over. You have won. You have lost. It does not matter."

Thomas looked at the girl. The girl was crying. Her tears fell on the stone floor. They were like drops of water. They were like the rain.

Thomas closed his eyes. He let the sword lie on the floor. He let the armor fall from his shoulders. He let the weight go.

He stood up. He walked to the window. He looked out. The moon was setting. The sky was dark. The rain was still falling.

He picked up his sword. He sheathed it. It was a soft sound. It was a final sound.

He walked out of the room. He walked down the stairs. He walked out of the castle.

The girl was waiting for him. She held her hand out again.

Thomas took her hand.

They walked into the night. They walked into the rain. They walked into the dark.

The city slept. The stones were wet. The moon was gone.

The rain fell.

It fell on the dead.

It fell on the living.

It fell on the just.

It fell on the unjust.

It fell on all.

It did not stop.

It never stopped.

The water rose. It covered the cobbles. It covered the stones. It covered the bones.

Thomas walked on. The water was at his ankles. The water was at his knees. The water was at his waist.

The girl held his hand. Her hand was tight. Her hand was warm.

The water was at his chest. The water was at his neck.

He could not see the ground. He could not see the sky. He could only see the water. He could only see the girl.

They held on. They held on.

The water was at his mouth.

He breathed in.

He breathed out.

He let go.

The water took him.

The water took her.

The water took the city.

The water took the castle.

The water took the Lord.

The water took the moon.

The water took the rain.

The water took everything.

There was only silence.

There was only stillness.

There was only the water.

And in the water, there was a pale path.

It was a line of light. It was a thread of gold. It was a sign.

It led to the bottom.

It led to the deep.

It led to the end.

Thomas followed it.

The girl followed it.

They walked on the pale path.

They walked in the dark.

They walked in the water.

They walked in the silence.

They walked in the peace.

The end was not a punishment.

The end was a release.

The end was a home.

The water was warm.

The water was soft.

The water was kind.

It washed away the blood.

It washed away the steel.

It washed away the fear.

It washed away the pain.

It washed away the past.

It washed away the future.

It washed away the self.

Only the path remained.

Only the light remained.

Only the silence remained.

Thomas smiled.

The girl smiled.

They held hands.

They walked on.

The water rose.

The water fell.

The water was.

The path was.

The light was.

The silence was.

The end was.

The rain stopped.

The sun came up.

The city was gone.

The water was gone.

The stone was dry.

The moss grew.

The flowers bloomed.

The birds sang.

The world was new.

The world was clean.

The world was quiet.

Thomas was gone.

The girl was gone.

The Lord was gone.

The rain was gone.

The path was gone.

Only the silence remained.

And in the silence, there was a truth.

The truth was simple.

The truth was old.

The truth was new.

The truth was this.

We are all dust.

We are all water.

We are all light.

We are all silence.

We are all one.

The wind blew.

The leaves rustled.

The stones warmed.

The day began.

The day continued.

The day ended.

The night came.

The moon rose.

The stars shone.

The world turned.

The world turned.

The world turned.

And the pale path remained.

In the memory.

In the stone.

In the rain.

In the silence.

It was there.

It was always there.

It would always be there.

A mark.

A scar.

A blessing.

A curse.

A truth.

A lie.

A memory.

A dream.

A life.

A death.

A beginning.

An end.

A circle.

A line.

A point.

A nothing.

A everything.

The water fell.

The water rose.

The water was.

The path was.

The light was.

The silence was.

The end was.

The rain stopped.

The sun came up.

The city was gone.

The water was gone.

The stone was dry.

The moss grew.

The flowers bloomed.

The birds sang.

The world was new.

The world was clean.

The world was quiet.

Thomas was gone.

The girl was gone.

The Lord was gone.

The rain was gone.

The path was gone.

Only the silence remained.

And in the silence, there was a truth.

The truth was simple.

The truth was old.

The truth was new.

The truth was this.

We are all dust.

We are all water.

We are all light.

We are all silence.

We are all one.