Burnt-Out Fires

The decimated wasteland that had once been a battlefield still smouldered with the ashen mist of extinguished fires. Blasted and broken, the rolling hills had a jagged quality to them, punctuated by the morosed and thousand-cursed fortress that rose in the distance like a victorious and vindictive god. Through the haze and the rain, the bloodied field almost seemed to stretch out forever.

A single warrior stood in the mud and filth, his head bowed. Rain ran down his face in torrents as he slowly walked on, murmmering to himself in a voice that was as reverent as it was pained.

"I don't feel it any more. It's been too long," he said dully.

He looked up, the storm's tears stinging his eyes. "And yet, here I am. In the rain, walking without aim. For you," he mused quietly, his voice cracking. He dropped his head again.

"I'm alone but for some reason, it comforts me to think of when we were togeather. Home. It was never the same when Mom died. She used to say that we could overcome anything. We would always find a way. Now..."

"Where do I belong?" He asked the weeping sky. "In the twilight and rain?"

"This place is a hell." He held is face in his large, calloused hands. "The stench clings to the rocks and mud. It never fades. It always follows me. Everywhere. I can't forget."

Losing his strength, the warrior dropped to his knees, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His old wounds had opened, blood running black against the rain. "Time is meaningless. Hours, days, weeks... they're all the same. I'm always... here. In the rain."

He bowed forward, the mud sucking at his hands as he braced himself. He stared down at the battered land as the downpour scoured it. He could almost see the faces of the fallen, staring up at him, crying silently for the lives taken from them. "I can't... I don't have the strength. I couldn't help them. I can't help you." His tears were lost in the storm.

"I couldn't save you..!" he cried out, all warmth drawn from his shivering body. He clutched at the mud with bone-like fingers, trying to hold something- anything- real. A shard of steel buried in the ground sliced into his hand.

The warrior looked at his fist mutely. The brown and black mud ran bright red with his oozing blood. He opened his hand and plucked the remnant of a more hopeful time from his palm, holding the wound to the rain.

"I can't stop remembering all that you told me. All that we survived." He stood, unsteadily. "You never wanted to leave me alone, I know that. You were always stronger than I."

"We were broken. Your death was in vain. I am sorry, brother. You wanted me to live on, but my world is shadows. All that is left for me is to walk between endless moments."

"I'm sorry," the warrior whispered into the cold, silent, whimpering rain.