As the sun began its descent, casting a golden hue glare over the earth, the soil where Cassandra and Hank stood in silence.
They had spent hours burying their fallen bodies, their bodies stiff and sore from the physical exertion. As shovels scattered side before their feet, soil residue painted before their figures and gloves.
While the sun cast its golden hue glare across the serene garden that turned into disheartening graves, Cassandra pressed her palm on the post, marking one of the names of her fallen companions, Ava.
"You know," Cassandra began, her voice barely a whisper, "Ava always loved this place. She talked about how peaceful it was, how it was a perfect escape from the noisy city."
A bitter smile tugged at her lips. "But I hated it," she confessed. "I'm a fighter, not a flower. I needed the thrill of battle, the adrenaline rush, not some peaceful backyard."
She paused, her voice drooped. "Ava would always say that a peaceful mind was the key to overcoming challenges."
She let out a bitter chuckle, "But Gørg and I would just laugh, calling her simple. After all… we wanted action, excitement."
Her voice cracked as she continued. "Now… I missed her, I missed them, so much that it pained me, pained me till I couldn't think… If I could've… just hear their voices once more…"
She collapsed, and a sob escaped her lips. "I failed them. I was meant to protect them, but I couldn't. Ava... she was so young, with so much potential, so much dream. And Gørg... he deserved to return home to his family, his home that was taken from him."
"I'm a FAILURE, A DISGRACE, TO THEM, TO EVERYONE, TO… to…" she lashed out but softened as grief overwhelmed her, seizing her throat to deprecate herself further.
Her body quivered with grief, sank to her knees before the tomb of her friend, tears streaming down her face. She had lost not only her friends, and her companions but also the promise of future-filled adventures.
Hank watched Cassandra as her despair claimed her, his eyes narrowed, a mirror image of his own sorrow.
With a sigh, "You see," he began, "when I was a kid, I always believed in the idea of justice and honor. Protecting the weak, defeating the evil, those cliché drills, you know?" He chuckled bitterly, "Now looking back, it reminded me how naive I was.".
"For the sake of it, I worked harder than anyone to be good, to be better, to make a difference. To honor that justice existed, not just some impertinent thought."
His voice grew quieter. "But… When that time came, the time that amounted the most," said Hank as he relieved his legs, perching beside Cassandra.
"I never thought I'd have to resort to abandoning my brother in arms, shouldering the guilt of desertion. When the Captain ordered me to sound the alarm, it was like a knife to the heart. I was furious, screaming inside. Why me? Why not someone else?"
He took a deep breath. "But looking back… I kinda understand now. Of all people, he chose me, he believed in me. He knew if I could survive, that I could rebuild what was lost. It was a heavy burden to carry, but it was also a testament to his faith in me."
Hank rose as he extended a hand to Cassandra, "We can't bring what's lost, but we can honor their memory by living on, cultivating the future they paved for us. Their lives they sacrificed to exchange for our viability."
"But... but... if... if I could've just been a little bit stronger," Cassandra whispered, her voice barely audible, "If… If."
Hank placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Look… Enough with the 'ifs'. There's no 'if' in this world or another. Why fantasize about what could have been when you can focus on what can be? Why linger on something you craved to be different when you can make a difference? Why hold ourselves from advancing, when we can become stronger, and better? Strong enough to prevent more of this kind of tragedy from happening again."
But doubt crept into Cassandra's mind. "What if I couldn't?" she murmured. "What if it happens again?" her head was still low.
Hank paused, his expression thoughtful. "Then we get stronger once more. Push ourselves even further. So far that when we looked back, it was nothing but void; so far that even you don't remember who that person ever was again."
Upon hearing those words, her head lifted but not thoroughly.
"And in the meantime, we must learn to accept the possibility of tragedy, because we can't control everything. We can't force what should be to what could be. We can only control how we respond to it. How we face these grueling admissions of guilt by revolving it into our will to live, to fight for what they entrusted us to believe." Hank added.
Cassandra was amazed, appeased. Her mind raced as Hank's words resonated deep within her, the tones, the statements, discounted her despair and instigated the hope she once possessed.
Then, a memory, an extract of words flooded within her, deepening what she heeded, "Live not to wilt but to thrive, embrace what is lost but never forget the journey amiss. Seeped as the seed mind the soil, sprouted as the stout mind the rain."
With those words dissipated, a hand closed in, "Come now," Hank said gently. "It's no time for us to give up, but to grow from the depth of it!"
With that, Cassandra's pupils quivered with admiration, the quenched flame once again blazed within her heart.
She accepted, not just the hand, but this stranger, the person who knew naught of hers yet willing to participate by her dismay, the very stranger who sacrificed his time to lament, to company her disconsolate state, was this what they called, hope within dismay?
"We shouldn't linger here any longer." Hank restated, "They wouldn't want us to dwell on the past, on this sorrowful lane. It's time we move on, to live for them."
"So… Are you ready to come back to the gate of life?" Hank added, his eye glinting with hope.
Cassandra wiped away her tears and nodded. With heavy hearts, she raised and held firmly Hank's hand, one she wished never to falter, one she yearned to pull her out of the dorm of despair.
There, raised to feet, she turned back to the grave, her once downturned mouth turned into a faint smile that stretched across her lips. As the feeling, the sentiment, it remained sad, yes, but it felt dissimilar from prior.
Perhaps it was her heart softened, rinsing off with the courage Hank spared.
As her despondent glimpse turned determined, one that fueled with vitality, not disparity, she uttered, "I… I don't know how to say this but… I will miss you guys…" her voice barely audible.
"You guys knew… that how much I… I hated to say goodbye…" her head lowered, her heart heavy with guilt.
"But… perhaps, it wasn't that bad for once in a while…" her head raised again, now stuffed with hope.
Then, with her watery eyes yet assured smile, she concluded, "Bon voyage, my friends, till we meet again, in another life…" her eyes glinting with new light, ones ready to embark on a new journey.
With a resigning caress of Ava's tomb, they turned away from the placid graves, their footsteps echoing in the desolate town square.
As they paced away, they knew their lives would never be the same. But they also knew that they had to find a way to live, to honor their memories.
A moment of silence passed, as their steps waned into the distance. An elf stood deep within the heart of the remote forest far but not distant from them.
Her eyes were closed, and a soft hum escaped her lips as if in conversation with the ancient trees.
"Hmm... yes... and so I heard," she murmured, her voice carrying on the wind. "Cassandra Everille... an interesting name." Her eyes flickered open, a glint of curiosity in their depths. "I wonder what path she will choose. Vengeance? Redemption? Abdication?"
The elf was the one who had saved Cassandra, one saved her from the brink of oblivion.
"As the ancient ones foretold, humans are creatures of emotion," she mused, pacing through the sun-dappled undergrowth. "Bound by their feelings, often consumed by grief and despair, succumbing to their imminent defeat. On rely companionship for strength, but few can rise alone. But those did most succumb to the darker path, the path deviated compassion but rational greed."
A shadow crossed her face. "But still," she continued, her voice filled with a hint of anticipation, "rarity often occurred, some will find a way to turn their pain into purpose, one indulged with compassion and wisdom. Rising from the ashes and becoming something more, the guidance to the others."
Her eyes flicked with amusement. Between the elf and the trees. A sigh escaped her lips. "Sorry, ancient ones," she murmured, "it's not my place to meddle in commoner affairs. I only happened to save her because of the unnatural magic surge. Perhaps that's why she survived."
Then, disdain crept into her voice, patronizing. "Mind that I save one, humans are wrought from their vile descendent. Short-lived, greedy, and driven by base desires. None collective propensity, moored solely by their mere avarice. They are no better than goblins, in my ears."
Another pause, feigning to listen to the trees, continued as she amused, "Perhaps you are right, ancient ones." her earlier disdain waned, "Maybe it's their flaws that push them to achieve their avowed 'greatness'. Their greed, ambition, compassion... towering their odds to shape the realm."
With short a contemplative silence descended upon the forest, the elf spoke again. "Perhaps I may have judged them too harshly, but my disposition stayed. Humans are a tool to their emotions, easily crumble under dire circumstances, foster their desperate yield."
"While my power is vast, it is a tool to be used only in dire, when mother Fara'ian (Ferania in elven tongue), herself is threatened. Abused, not the realm wreak to its imbalance for worst, but the cost of the lives, fate to their end. Such as shall I not have intervened so recurrently."
With that, the elf turned into the depth of the dense undergrowth, her hand stroking against the coarse stem of the ancients, offered wonder by her fingertips, "As life must to their own, and imperilment shall be eased to their own. My intrusion is mere deviancy, altering the course of inevitability, one I must cease from continuing, " she uttered as she pacing deep into the shadow of the forest, leaving behind only the whisper of the wind and the rustling of leaves.
As the moon hung low on the ethereal starry night sky, the cold breeze wandered the street, hushing the child to sleep. Urging silence to be their own solacing company.
In the meantime, back at the camp, desperation still thriving, people mumbled at a low timbre, groaning and sobbing from their fresh dealt grievance.
Hank and Cassandra, both returned from the daunting town, their steps were heavy but disregarded completely, as the refugees were still reeling to their own, suffering from their dejection.
Soon they entered their respective tents, they were preparing to rest for the night. Exhausted and emotionally drained, they sought solace in the relative safety of their tents. The horrors of the day had taken their toll, and sleep offered a temporary respite from the pain.