I held the girl's hand and began to sing, the very song my mother taught me.
"Following the raindrops, they wish to see the lasting broken light
She's not welcome but she can cry don't let her voice die.
Let's go to the garden, where we'll finally reach the song that has never cried.
Shattered like a tool broken by ashes, if that boy ever sang last night.
War-torn child, war-torn... boy will he ever see that light?
He takes a knee and falls to slumber oh...
Is it the last new light?"
She looked at me, her eyes lingering on mine. I didn't want to do it, but I couldn't help it—I began to cry.
I stood up, wiped my face quickly, and took her hand. "Let's go. I know a place where you'll never see conflict again. I promise."
She nodded, silent but trusting, and followed me as I led her away.
When we reached the town gates, the same guards were there. This time, however, they didn't stop us.
They just watched as I walked past, leading the girl inside.
We made our way through the town, the streets quiet as we passed.
By the time we reached the tavern, I hesitated at the door for a moment, scanning the room.
I half-expected trouble, but then I realized—it was only her.
I pushed open the door and stepped inside, immediately spotting Virtue behind the counter.
She looked up and smiled softly, her gaze shifting between me and the girl.
"So, you've brought a guest," Virtue remarked, her tone light and welcoming.
The little girl nodded shyly, and that's when I realized—I hadn't even asked her name yet.
Before I could, Virtue had already moved from behind the counter, kneeling down in front of the girl with a warm, inviting smile. "What's your name, my dear?" she asked, her voice soothing and melodic.
The girl wiped her eyes and spoke, her voice quiet but clear. "Mora. Mama said I don't have a last name."
Virtue's smile widened, and she placed a gentle hand on the girl's shoulder. "That's okay, dear. Neither he nor I have one, either. Would you like to stay with us?"
Mora tightened her grip on my hand, her eyes searching mine. "Is there conflict here?" she asked, a tremor in her voice.
Virtue glanced at me, and I nodded in response. "No conflict here, dear. This place is safe. There will be no fighting as long as you're here, I vow it."
Mora looked up at me, the faintest hint of hope starting to replace the fear in her eyes.
I stood before Captain Greymont in the guardhouse, the weight of my actions still heavy in my chest but my resolve firm.
The raiders were dealt with. It wasn't a glorious battle, but I had made sure they wouldn't be troubling the kingdom again.
Greymont looked up from his desk as I entered, his eyes flicking briefly to the sword at my side before meeting my gaze.
He had a way of sizing people up, a way that made me feel as if every thought in my head were laid bare to him.
"Kaelith," he said with a brief nod, his tone neutral. "What brings you to the guardhouse today?"
I squared my shoulders, the mission scroll still tucked in my belt. "Captain, I've completed the task. The raiders along the outer rim of the forest—taken care of."
He didn't react right away, his gaze narrowing as he processed my words.
His fingers tapped the desk lightly, a sign that he was calculating his next move.
The Captain wasn't quick to praise anyone, and he wasn't one to hand out praise without it being earned.
I wasn't expecting a warm welcome, but I had done what I said I would.
"Well, that was quick," Greymont said finally, leaning back in his chair. His voice was calm, but there was a flicker of something—whether it was approval or doubt, I couldn't tell. "How bad was it?"
I didn't hesitate. "They were a small group. No more than a dozen. They've been attacking traders, harassing caravans, but they didn't put up much of a fight when I arrived. I made sure they wouldn't be a problem again."
Greymont studied me carefully for a moment, his expression unreadable.
He was weighing my words, assessing whether I was telling the truth, or if I had overestimated my abilities.
He had seen a lot of young faces come through these doors, eager to prove themselves, only to be broken by the harsh realities of combat.
Finally, he nodded. "I'll take your word for it. You've cleared them out, then. That's one less headache for us."
His voice softened slightly. "But I meant what I said, Kaelith. The war... it's not a place for idealism. It's a slaughterhouse."
I held his gaze, my voice steady. "I'm not in this for glory, Captain. I'm in this because it's what's right."
Greymont didn't respond at first, but I could tell he understood.
The way his eyes lingered on me said more than words could.
After a beat, he stood up and walked to a nearby cabinet, pulling out a small pouch of coins.
"You've proven yourself." He said, tossing it to me with a measured flick of his wrist.
"For your work. The kingdom will know of it. But... I suggest you take some time before deciding on your next move. War is a long road, Kaelith. It's not one you can just walk into blindly."
I caught the pouch easily, nodding once as I tied it to my belt.
"I'll think about it, Captain," I said, my tone firm. "But for now, the mission's done."
Greymont watched me for a moment longer, then gave a reluctant nod. "Good. Just be careful. Don't let the blood you spill on that path stain you too much. It's not easy to wash off."
With that, I turned and left the guardhouse, the door closing softly behind me. As I walked through the town once more, I felt a mix of satisfaction and unease.
The mission was complete, but I knew this was just the beginning.
There would be more battles, more choices, and the weight of each one would only grow heavier.
I couldn't think about that now, though. I had done what I promised I would do. For now, that was enough.
As I entered the tavern, the warmth of the place was a stark contrast to the cool evening air outside.
Virtue stood behind the counter, her gaze lifting the moment I stepped inside.
Her smile was soft, tempered by a knowing look that seemed to pierce through the veneer I tried to keep intact.
"So," she began, setting down the cloth she'd been using to wipe the bar. "It's done, then?"
I nodded, stepping further inside. "The raiders won't trouble anyone again." My voice was steady, though the weight of the task still lingered in my chest.
Her eyes softened. "And the girl? Mora?"
"She's safe," I replied, my tone firm. "She's staying here. I promised her there'd be no more conflict."
Virtue's expression flickered between pride and concern, her gaze shifting to the corner of the room.
Mora was sitting there, her small hands deftly weaving a simple hand game. She looked calmer now, her earlier fear and grief replaced by a quiet focus.
I moved closer, watching the two of them for a moment. Mora's laughter, light and fragile, filled the air as Virtue joined her at the table, playing along with a genuine ease.
"She's a kind soul," Virtue said softly, looking up at me as if she could read my thoughts. "The kind of soul that has no will to fight."
I hesitated, the weight of her words sinking in. "In a world like this, kindness can be fragile. Hatred... it grows in soil soaked with blood. Children like her shouldn't have to understand what's been done."
Virtue smiled faintly, though her eyes betrayed a deep sadness. "Kind souls tend to be the strongest with the Song. Even when the world hardens them, they carry a melody that can heal what others break."
Her words lingered in the air, weaving themselves into the quiet hum of the tavern. Mora caught my eye then, her small hand waving me over.
I took a seat beside her, and she reached out, taking my hand in hers.
"Will you sing again?" she asked, her voice a quiet plea.
I hesitated, but then, without thinking, I began.
"Following the raindrops, they wish to see the lasting broken light..."
"She's not welcome, but she can cry, don't let her voice die..."
The melody came unbidden, as natural as breathing, the words spilling forth like water from a long-sealed spring.
Mora's eyes widened as she listened, her small voice eventually joining mine in soft harmony.
Virtue watched us from the side, her expression unreadable but warm.
As the song faded into silence, I realized Mora was smiling. It was a small smile, faint and hesitant, but it was real. And in that moment, it felt like enough.
For tonight, the weight of the world could wait. Tomorrow would come, bringing with it new trials and choices. But here, in this small, quiet place, hope flickered.
And for the first time in a long time, I allowed myself to believe it might grow.