Chapter Seventeen – The Song of the Stars
As the days passed, the group grew closer, the lingering weight of their past encounters still hanging in the air. The journey continued, but with each step, Gilgamesh found himself more and more aware of the world around him. It wasn't just the landscapes or the passing moments—it was the people.
Fern's youthful curiosity was infectious, despite the dark and dangerous road they traveled. She would often try to talkwith him, probing for any reaction from the ancient elf. She was determined to understand him, to pierce through the wall of mystery that surrounded him.
"Gilgamesh," Fern began one evening as they set up camp. "You've been through so much. How do you deal with it all? With… everything?"
Gilgamesh looked at her, his golden eyes betraying no emotion. He stared into the fire, the flames dancing in the still air, casting strange shadows on his face.
"Time is both a gift and a curse," he said slowly. "When you live long enough, you begin to understand that there is no answer to everything. The key is to endure. To live."
Fern nodded, though her thoughts were conflicted. She had never truly understood the weight of time until now—until she saw it in Gilgamesh's eyes. He wasn't just a king; he was a witness to the endless cycles of the world, a traveler through a long history that had long since faded.
But what did he endure for?
Stark, ever the pragmatist, broke the silence. "If you keep dwelling on the past, you'll miss the present."
Gilgamesh's eyes shifted toward him, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something in his gaze—something akin to amusement, though it was fleeting.
"I do not dwell on it," Gilgamesh replied. "But you are correct. The present is what matters most. The past is but a shadow."
Stark chuckled. "A shadow, huh? Sounds like something a king would say."
Gilgamesh's lips curved into the faintest of smiles. "Perhaps. But you are right. It is what we do now that defines us."
The conversation drifted off as the night continued on. The stars above twinkled with a brilliance that seemed to speak to the vastness of the world—and to the eternity Gilgamesh had seen. The past, the present, and the future were all tied together in a single unbroken thread.
And in that moment, Gilgamesh couldn't help but feel the pull of something—something beyond his understanding.
The stars whispered to him. A song. Faint and distant, but there nonetheless. And though he couldn't yet make sense of it, Gilgamesh knew that the future would soon demand an answer.
But for now, he would wait. Just as he had waited for millennia.