The rain fell like iron filings.

It was cold. It was dark. I walked the ridge. The ground was wet. It clung to my boots. My hands were heavy. My sword was dull. The metal drank the light. I had carried it for years. It was old. It was tired. I was tired.

I looked for the wolf.

There was no wolf.

There was only the mist.

The mist swallowed the valley. It ate the trees. It ate the stones. It ate my breath. I could not see far. I could not see back. I was alone. The silence was thick. It pressed against my ears. It pressed against my mind. I waited. The night was long. The stars were hidden. The moon was dead.

I thought of my brother.

His name was Thomas.

He was not here.

He was far away.

He was in the city.

He sat by the fire. He did not know I was out here. He did not know I was cold. He did not know I was afraid. He trusted me. He believed in me. He called me a good man. He called me a just man. I was neither. I was only a soldier. I was only a blade.

The wind rose.

It howled in the pines.

It sounded like a scream.

I stopped walking.

I stood still.

I closed my eyes.

I listened.

The wind died.

The silence returned.

It was heavier now.

It was waiting for me.

I opened my eyes.

A shape moved in the mist.

It was small.

It was white.

It was a fox.

No.

It was not a fox.

It was a man.

He was small.

He was hunched.

He wore rags.

He had no armor.

He had no weapon.

He was old.

His hair was white.

His face was a map of pain.

He looked at me.

His eyes were black.

His eyes were deep.

He did not run.

He did not hide.

He stood there.

He waited.

I drew my sword.

The steel sang.

It was a high note.

It cut the air.

I stepped forward.

My boot sank into the mud.

The man raised his hand.

It was a small hand.

It was shaking.

He held something.

It was a flower.

It was white.

It was wilted.

It was dead.

He held it up.

He offered it to me.

I stopped.

I looked at the flower.

I looked at the man.

I did not understand.

Why did he give me a dead flower?

Why did he stand in my path?

Why did he not fight?

I was a soldier.

I was the law.

I was the order.

He was the chaos.

He was the error.

I should have killed him.

I should have cut him down.

I should have cleaned the blade.

I did not.

I stood still.

The rain continued.

It fell on my face.

It fell on his face.

It washed the dirt from his skin.

It washed the blood from his hands.

He bled.

He had always bled.

I saw it then.

I saw the scars.

I saw the marks.

They were not from battle.

They were from time.

They were from waiting.

He was not an enemy.

He was a witness.

He had seen what I had done.

He had seen what we had done.

He had carried it.

He had carried it for years.

He had carried it to the ridge.

He had carried it to me.

The sword felt heavier.

It felt like a burden.

It felt like a chain.

I looked at his face.

I saw my own face.

I saw the age.

I saw the wear.

I saw the doubt.

He was me.

He was the mirror.

He was the truth.

I could not look away.

I could not look at the sword.

I lowered my hand.

The steel dipped toward the mud.

The man smiled.

It was a sad smile.

It was a soft smile.

It was a release.

He closed his eyes.

He let out a breath.

The breath was white.

The breath was cold.

It rose into the air.

It joined the mist.

He slumped.

He fell to his knees.

He did not die.

He did not live.

He simply stopped.

He was gone.

The flower fell from his hand.

It landed in the mud.

It was crushed.

It was black.

It was nothing.

I stood over him.

I was alone.

The rain was still falling.

The wind was still blowing.

The night was still dark.

I looked at my sword.

The edge was wet.

The edge was dark.

I saw my reflection in the steel.

I saw a stranger.

I saw a ghost.

I saw a shadow.

I was not a hero.

I was not a judge.

I was a man.

A man with a broken sword.

A man with a broken heart.

A man with a broken soul.

I felt the pain.

It was in my chest.

It was in my bones.

It was in my blood.

I had carried it for years.

I had hidden it.

I had buried it.

I had locked it away.

But it was here.

It was alive.

It was real.

The justice I sought was not in the sword.

The justice I sought was not in the kill.

The justice I sought was in the letting go.

The justice I sought was in the silence.

I sheathed the sword.

The sound was dull.

The sound was final.

I looked at the body.

The body was still.

The body was quiet.

The body was at peace.

I felt a tear fall.

It was hot.

It was salty.

It was mine.

I did not wipe it away.

I let it fall.

I let it join the rain.

I let it join the mud.

I let it join the earth.

I turned away.

I walked down the ridge.

I walked into the mist.

I walked into the dark.

I did not look back.

I did not need to.

The man was gone.

The flower was gone.

The sword was sheathed.

The rain was falling.

The night was ending.

The dawn was coming.

It would be gray.

It would be cold.

It would be new.

I walked on.

My steps were light.

My heart was light.

My mind was light.

I was free.

I was empty.

I was full.

I was nothing.

I was everything.

The sun rose.

It was weak.

It was pale.

It touched the mist.

The mist burned away.

The valley appeared.

The trees were green.

The stones were gray.

The river was blue.

The world was beautiful.

The world was indifferent.

The world was waiting.

I stopped.

I looked at the sky.

The sky was wide.

The sky was deep.

The sky was empty.

I breathed in.

The air was sweet.

The air was clean.

The air was life.

I breathed out.

The breath was soft.

The breath was slow.

The breath was gone.

I continued walking.

I walked to the city.

I walked to the gate.

I walked to the street.

I walked to the house.

I walked to the door.

I did not knock.

I did not call.

I did not enter.

I stood in the yard.

I looked at the door.

I remembered Thomas.

I remembered the fire.

I remembered the trust.

I remembered the love.

It was strong.

It was deep.

It was true.

It was enough.

I turned away.

I walked down the street.

I walked into the crowd.

I walked into the noise.

I walked into the life.

I was one of them.

I was no one.

I was a man.

A man who had walked the ridge.

A man who had met the wolf.

A man who had put down the sword.

A man who had found the peace.

The sun was higher.

The shadows were shorter.

The day was bright.

The day was warm.

The day was here.

I walked on.

I walked forward.

I walked away.

I walked into the light.

I walked into the truth.

I walked into the end.

The end was not death.

The end was life.

The end was freedom.

The end was silence.

The end was peace.

I smiled.

It was a small smile.

It was a quiet smile.

It was a real smile.

I closed my eyes.

I felt the sun.

I felt the wind.

I felt the earth.

I felt the rain.

I felt the past.

I felt the present.

I felt the future.

They were one.

They were whole.

They were complete.

I opened my eyes.

I saw the world.

I saw the people.

I saw the life.

I saw the beauty.

I saw the pain.

I saw the love.

I saw the truth.

I was here.

I was now.

I was free.