The spear breaks.

You feel it snap in your hand. The wood splinters. It flies from your grip. You are on your knees. The mud is cold. It sucks at your boots. The wolf is dead. It lies in the snow. Its ribs show. The bone is white. You look at your hand. There is a cut. It bleeds. The blood is red. It mixes with the mud.

You are a keeper. You serve the King. You keep the peace in the dark woods. The woods are old. They are old as the world. The trees have faces. The branches have hands. They reach for you. They want to pull you down. They want to make you one of them.

You stand up. Your legs shake. You look for the spear. You cannot find it. It is gone. It has broken into pieces. You are empty. You are alone. The wind blows. It howls. It sounds like a name. It sounds like your name.

You walk. You must walk. You have no weapon. You have no food. You have only the skin on your bones. You have the air in your lungs. You walk into the trees. The trees close in. The light fades. The dark comes. The dark is thick. It is heavy. It presses on your chest.

You remember the oath. You swore to protect. You swore to serve. You believed in the law. You believed in the King. The law is a wall. It keeps the wild out. It keeps the order in. You are the wall. You are the stone. But the stone cracks. The stone crumbles. You are not the stone. You are the dirt. You are the dust.

You hear a sound. It is a rustle. It is a snap. It is a breath. You turn. A figure stands there. It is a man. He is tall. He is thin. He wears a coat of gray. His face is pale. His eyes are black. They are deep. They are empty.

"Who are you?" you ask. Your voice is small. It is a whisper. It dies in the air.

"I am the shadow," he says. His voice is soft. It is like silk. It is like ice. "I am the thing you hunt. I am the thing you fear."

You step back. Your heel slips. You fall. You hit the ground. The pain is sharp. It is bright. You look at him. He does not move. He does not attack. He watches. He waits.

"You are lost," he says.

"I am not lost," you say. You stand up. You brush the dirt from your knees. "I am here. I am the keeper."

"The keeper is gone," he says. "The keeper is dead. You are the wolf. You are the prey. You are the hunter. You are all of it. You are none of it."

You feel a chill. It goes down your spine. It goes into your bones. You look at your hands. They are trembling. They are dirty. They are bloody. You look at the man. He is smiling. It is a sad smile. It is a kind smile.

"Follow me," he says.

You do not move. You are afraid. You are angry. You are confused. You want to run. You want to fight. You have no weapon. You have no strength. You stay still. You breathe. The air is cold. It burns your throat.

He turns. He walks away. He does not look back. He walks into the dark. You watch him go. His figure fades. It becomes a shadow. It becomes a mist. It is gone.

You are alone again. The trees are still. The wind is still. The dark is still. You stand there. You stand for a long time. The minutes pass. The hours pass. You do not feel time. You feel only the cold. You feel only the silence.

You start to walk. You do not know where. You do not know why. You just walk. Your feet hit the ground. Thud. Thud. Thud. It is a rhythm. It is a heartbeat. It is your own heart. It beats fast. It beats hard. It beats for you. It beats for them.

You walk for days. You do not know how many. The sun rises. The sun sets. The stars come out. The stars are bright. They are cold. They watch you. They judge you. You eat berries. They are sour. They are sweet. You drink from streams. The water is cold. It is clear. It shows your face. You do not recognize it. It is a stranger. It is a ghost.

You find a village. It is small. It is made of wood. It is made of stone. It is old. It is broken. The people are thin. Their eyes are hollow. They look at you. They do not speak. They cross themselves. They move away. They fear you. They fear your blood. They fear your story.

You walk past them. You do not stop. You do not ask. You have nothing to give. You have nothing to take. You are empty. You are hollow. You are a shell.

You reach the castle. It is on a hill. It is black. It is tall. It is silent. The gates are closed. The guards are sleeping. Their heads hang low. Their arms hang loose. They are dead. They have been dead for a long time. You walk through the gate. You walk across the courtyard. The stones are cold. They are wet. They are old.

You enter the hall. It is dark. It is empty. The throne is there. It is made of iron. It is cold. It is hard. You sit on it. You do not know why. You sit there. You wait. The darkness moves. It comes to you. It wraps around you. It touches your face. It touches your eyes. It is gentle. It is kind. It is like a mother. It is like a lover.

You close your eyes. You see the wolf. You see the spear. You see the man. You see the village. You see the castle. You see it all. It is one thing. It is a thread. It is a line. It is a story. The story is over. The thread is cut. The line is broken. The story is done.

You open your eyes. The light is there. It is bright. It is white. It is blinding. You look around. You are not in the hall. You are in the woods. You are in the snow. You are on your knees. The spear is in your hand. It is whole. It is new. The wolf is dead. It lies in the snow. Its ribs show. The bone is white.

You look at your hand. There is a cut. It bleeds. The blood is red. It mixes with the mud.

You stand up. Your legs are steady. You look at the trees. They are not faces. They are not hands. They are trees. They are wood. They are still. You look at the sky. The sun is high. It is warm. It is bright.

You walk out of the woods. You walk to the road. You walk to the village. The people are there. They are alive. They are healthy. They are happy. They see you. They smile. They wave. They greet you.

"Keeper," they say. "You are back."

You nod. You do not speak. You have nothing to say. You have no story. You have no name. You are the keeper. You are the wall. You are the stone. The stone is whole. The stone is strong. The stone holds.

You walk to the castle. The gates are open. The guards are awake. They stand tall. They hold their spears. They look at you. They bow.

"My Lord," they say. "The King sends his regards."

You walk into the hall. The light is bright. The throne is there. It is made of gold. It is warm. It is soft. You do not sit. You stand. You look at the walls. The walls are white. The walls are clean. The walls are strong.

You feel a pain. It is in your chest. It is small. It is sharp. It is like a thorn. You ignore it. You breathe in. You breathe out. You are still. You are calm. You are safe.

The years pass. You keep the peace. You keep the order. You keep the law. You are good. You are just. You are fair. You are the best. You are the hero. You are the legend. The people love you. The King honors you. The gods smile. You are happy. You are full. You are alive.

One day, you find a bird. It is on the ground. It is dead. Its wings are broken. Its eyes are closed. You pick it up. You hold it in your hands. You feel its weight. You feel its cold. You feel its stillness.

You look at it. You see the wolf. You see the spear. You see the man. You see the village. You see the castle. You see it all. It is one thing. It is a thread. It is a line. It is a story.

You feel the thorn in your chest. It grows. It burns. It cuts. It tears. You drop the bird. It falls to the ground. It breaks. It shatters. It becomes dust. It becomes air. It is gone.

You stand there. You look at your hands. They are empty. They are clean. They are dry. You look at the walls. The walls are cracking. The cracks are small. They are fine. They are invisible.

You feel the pain. It is not small. It is not sharp. It is huge. It is wide. It is deep. It is in your bones. It is in your blood. It is in your soul.

You walk out of the hall. You walk out of the castle. You walk into the woods. The trees are dark. The wind is cold. The dark is thick. It presses on your chest.

You walk. You do not stop. You do not turn. You walk into the night. You walk into the void. You walk into the truth.

You are the keeper. You are the wolf. You are the prey. You are the hunter. You are all of it. You are none of it.

You are free.

The snow falls. It covers the ground. It covers the trees. It covers the world. It is white. It is pure. It is silent. It is eternal.

You walk. You walk. You walk.

The end is the beginning. The beginning is the end. The circle is closed. The loop is broken. The thread is cut. The line is drawn. The story is told.

The truth is simple. The truth is hard. The truth is cold. The truth is justice. Justice comes. Justice waits. Justice is patient. Justice is kind. Justice is you.

You smile. It is a small smile. It is a sad smile. It is a kind smile.

You close your eyes.

The dark takes you.

The light stays.