"It looks like my time is almost up."
I lay still, my gaze fixed on the ceiling, watching the slow, rhythmic turn of the electric fan. The soft hum filled the silence, a steady companion to my thoughts.
Once, I was a soldier—one of the best. I had seen war up close, survived battles that tested the limits of my strength and resolve. Victory and loss had shaped me, forged me into the man I became. But even warriors must lay down their arms. When my time in the military ended, I stepped into a different battlefield—one of books and lessons.
Before I wore a uniform, I was a student of education. Teaching was my first calling, long before the battlefield claimed me. And when the war was finally behind me, I returned to it, finding solace in the quiet halls of a school near my hometown. There, I traded strategies for lesson plans, commands for guidance, and war stories for the wisdom that only time could teach.
But now, as I stare at the ceiling, a different kind of silence settles in. A silence that speaks of endings.
The door creaked open, breaking my thoughts. Soft footsteps followed, steady but light, careful not to disturb me. A young nurse entered the room, a gentle smile on her face as she approached my bedside.
"Good afternoon, sir," she greeted warmly. "How are we feeling today?"
I turned my head slightly, offering a weak smirk. "Still breathing, so I suppose that's something."
She chuckled, setting down a tray on the bedside table. "That's a good sign. Your vitals are stable, but you need to eat more. I noticed you barely touched your breakfast."
I glanced at the untouched meal on the tray from earlier, now cold and unappetizing. "Not much of an appetite these days."
Her eyes softened, but she didn't push. Instead, she busied herself checking my IV and adjusting the pillow behind my head. "Do you want me to get you something else? Maybe some soup? Something easier to eat?"
I shook my head. "No need to trouble yourself, young lady. You've got enough to do without worrying about an old man like me."
She paused, studying me for a moment. "You're not just any old man, sir. I heard from the other nurses—you were a soldier and a teacher. That means you've spent your whole life helping others."
I chuckled, though it came out weak. "And now I'm the one being helped. Funny how life works, isn't it?"
She smiled, squeezing my arm gently. "That just means it's our turn to take care of you."
For a moment, I said nothing. I simply watched her, this young woman full of energy and kindness, so different from the battle-hardened men I once fought beside. Life had changed so much, and yet, some things—like compassion—remained the same.
"Thank you," I murmured.
She nodded, her smile never fading. "Anytime, sir. I'll be back later to check on you."
As she left, the room grew quiet again, save for the steady hum of the electric fan. I closed my eyes, letting the silence settle once more, but this time, it felt a little less heavy.
Night had fallen. The hospital room was bathed in the dim glow of a bedside lamp, casting soft shadows across the walls. The steady beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound accompanying the stillness. Outside, the world continued on, but in this room, time seemed to slow.
Fatigue eventually overtook me, and my eyes fluttered shut.
Then, the dream came.
I stood in an endless void, a thick mist swirling at my feet. The air was cold, yet it carried a strange familiarity, as if I had been here before. In the distance, a figure emerged, cloaked in deep black, the fabric flowing like liquid shadow. The hood obscured their face, but I could feel their gaze piercing through me.
"You have come," the figure spoke, a voice neither male nor female, yet carrying the weight of sorrow and urgency.
I frowned, taking a step closer. "Who are you?"
The figure remained still. "That is not important. What matters is what must be done."
"What must be done?" I repeated, confusion creeping into my voice. "I don't understand."
"You will, in time," the figure replied. "I have searched for one who carries the strength of a warrior and the wisdom of a teacher. You are the one."
A strange chill ran down my spine. "The one for what?"
The figure extended a hand, its fingers pale and slender. "Help us."
"Help who?" I demanded.
The mist began to swirl violently, and suddenly, the world around us shifted. The void shattered like glass, and in its place, chaos erupted.
The deafening roar of battle filled the air. Fires burned across the land, turning the sky into a blood-red canvas. Bodies lay scattered, men, women, and children—of different races and origins—all caught in the devastation of war. Soldiers clashed with creatures beyond human comprehension, their forms monstrous yet eerily familiar. Screams echoed in every direction.
I found myself standing in the middle of it all, my hands gripping a rifle—an old companion I thought I had long left behind.
"This war consumes all," the cloaked figure's voice echoed in my mind. "And it will not stop until balance is restored."
I turned, searching for the figure, but they had vanished. Instead, the battlefield stretched endlessly before me.
Explosions erupted in the distance, sending shockwaves through the ground. Soldiers fought desperately, their armor battered, their faces streaked with dirt and blood. Some wielded swords, others rifles—technology and tradition clashing in a desperate bid for survival. The enemy forces were relentless, monstrous beings with twisted, unnatural forms, their eyes glowing with an eerie light.
Among the chaos, I saw civilians caught in the crossfire—families running, children crying, entire homes reduced to rubble. The devastation was unlike anything I had witnessed in my years of service. It was war in its purest, cruelest form.
A wounded soldier stumbled toward me, his face barely visible under his cracked helmet. He grabbed my arm, his grip weak but urgent.
"Help us…" he gasped, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. "Please…"
I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could speak, another explosion rocked the ground. The force sent me tumbling backward, my vision blurring as the deafening roar of destruction consumed everything.
Then—silence.
I jolted awake, my breath ragged, my heart pounding against my ribs.
The hospital room was exactly as I had left it, bathed in soft light, the hum of the electric fan a stark contrast to the chaos I had just witnessed. My hands trembled slightly as I wiped the cold sweat from my forehead.
"What the hell was that…" I muttered under my breath.
A dream? A memory? Or something else entirely?
I had faced war before, but never like this. Never so vividly.
And that voice—the cloaked figure, the pleading soldier—what did it all mean?
I sat up slowly, staring at the window where the night stretched endlessly outside. Something about that dream lingered, heavy in my chest.
It wasn't just a dream.
It was a message.
And I had the sinking feeling that whatever it meant… it was only the beginning.
The days passed, and with each sunrise, my strength waned. The once-simple act of sitting up in bed became a struggle. My hands, once steady in battle, trembled when I reached for a glass of water. The nurses spoke in hushed voices, their eyes filled with quiet sympathy.
I wasn't afraid. I had faced death before, stood at its edge many times. But this was different. There was no battlefield, no gunfire, no enemy to fight—only time, slipping through my fingers like sand.
One afternoon, the nurse—Angela, as I learned—helped me sit up. She was young, maybe in her late twenties, her presence a small comfort in these final days.
"You're looking better today," she said with a soft smile, though we both knew it was a lie.
I chuckled weakly. "I appreciate the effort, but no need to sugarcoat it."
She sighed, placing a warm hand over mine. "You remind me of my grandfather. He was a soldier too."
"Then he must have been a stubborn old man," I said, smirking.
She laughed. "The most stubborn."
The conversation faded into silence. She adjusted my pillows before standing. "I'll be back in a bit. Try to rest, okay?"
I nodded, but rest wouldn't come. Not in the way I wanted.
That night, the dream returned.
The battlefield stretched before me again, but something had changed. The war was no longer in full force—only ruins remained. Fires burned in the distance, and bodies lay motionless on the ground.
The cloaked figure stood at the center of it all, waiting.
I approached, my steps slow, heavy. "What is this?"
The figure finally spoke. "The end of an era. The remnants of battles fought long ago."
I looked around. The destruction felt too familiar. "Why do you keep showing me this?"
The figure lifted a hand, palm up. "Because it is almost time."
Before I could ask what they meant, the dream shifted.
I woke with a sharp breath, my heart racing. The sound of distant explosions still echoed in my ears, though I knew they weren't real. The room was dim, the clock on the wall ticking softly.
A gentle knock at the door.
"Still awake?" Angela stepped in, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Seems like I don't have much time for sleep," I muttered.
She pulled up a chair beside me, studying my face. "You've been having dreams, haven't you?"
I hesitated before nodding. "Strange ones."
She looked thoughtful, then asked, "Do you believe in fate?"
I exhaled, staring at the ceiling. "I used to believe that we made our own path. That every choice we made shaped what came next."
"And now?"
A sad smile formed on my lips. "Now… I think some things are meant to happen, no matter what we do."
She squeezed my hand. "I think so too."
For a long moment, we sat in silence. Then I said, "Thank you, Angela."
She tilted her head. "For what?"
"For sitting here. For making an old soldier feel less alone."
Her eyes softened. "You were never alone."
That night, I felt it. The change.
My body was light—too light, as if the weight of existence itself was lifting. My breathing slowed, the world around me turning quiet.
I closed my eyes.
And I was there again. The battlefield, but it was different this time. The fires had died, the sky no longer red with war. Instead, golden light stretched across the horizon, warm and peaceful.
The cloaked figure stood before me. But this time, they lifted their hood.
I gasped. It was—
Everything went silent.
Morning came.
Angela entered the room, carrying a tray of medicine, but she stopped at the sight before her.
The old soldier lay still, his expression peaceful, as if he had simply drifted away.
For a moment, she didn't move. Then, slowly, she stepped forward and placed a hand over his. It was cold.
She blinked back tears, whispering, "Rest well, sir. You've done enough."
A soft breeze passed through the open window, rustling the curtains.
And somewhere, beyond the veil of this world, an old warrior walked into the golden horizon, never to look back.
Beyond the Veil
Darkness embraced me, soft and weightless.
I felt nothing. No pain. No fatigue. No regrets.
For the first time in years, I was at peace.
Then, a whisper.
Faint at first, like the wind through distant trees. Then, clearer. Stronger. A voice, neither male nor female, neither near nor far.
"It is not yet time to rest."
The darkness stirred. A pulse of light flickered in the void, slow and steady—like a heartbeat.
I tried to speak, but I had no voice. I tried to move, but I had no body. I was only… presence.
Another pulse.
Then—
A sensation.
A pull.
Like unseen hands grasping my soul, drawing me forward. The abyss trembled, and suddenly, the blackness fractured, splitting apart into shards of light and shadow.
The weightless void became something tangible. I could feel my body again—solid, real. My fingers curled. My chest rose and fell with breath. My heart… it beat.
I gasped.
A rush of wind howled past me, tugging at my very essence.
I was falling.
Through light and shadow, through space and time. Colors blurred, shapes twisting and merging in impossible ways. Stars stretched into lines, as if the universe itself was folding inward.
A voice called out—no, not just a voice. Many voices. Echoing through the vastness, overlapping in an unspoken language. Some were desperate. Others were commanding. But all of them carried the same plea.
"Come."
The descent quickened. The world ahead split open—a gateway of swirling energy, beckoning, waiting.
Then—impact.
Not hard, not painful. More like slipping beneath the surface of water. The transition was seamless, yet absolute.
For a brief moment, there was silence.
Then—
The scent of earth. The whisper of wind. The warmth of sunlight on my skin.
I inhaled sharply, my senses overwhelmed.
Grass, soft and damp beneath my fingertips. A sky, impossibly vast and blue above me. Trees stretched high, their leaves rustling in the gentle breeze. The sound of distant water, a river flowing with crystal clarity.
I pushed myself up, my muscles reacting instinctively—except…
They weren't my muscles.
My body felt different. Stronger. Younger. The aches and stiffness that had plagued me for years were gone.
I raised a hand to my face, tracing unfamiliar skin. No wrinkles. No age spots. My fingers ran through thick, dark hair—far too thick for the man I had been just moments ago.
A reflection.
I turned towards the river, my heart pounding.
There, in the clear water, a stranger stared back at me.
No, not a stranger.
Me.
But not as I had been in my final moments.
As I once was.
Before the war. Before the years stole my strength. Before time left its mark.
A second chance.
A new beginning.
A sound from the trees drew my attention. I turned sharply, my instincts still sharp, honed by years of battle.
A figure stood at the edge of the forest, clad in a flowing cloak, their face hidden beneath a deep hood. Their presence was calm, yet commanding, as if they had been waiting for this moment.
"You have arrived," they said, their voice steady, neither warm nor cold.
I rose to my feet, fists clenching instinctively. My mind raced, trying to grasp the impossible truth.
This was not Earth.
And I was no longer the man who had laid down to die.
I met the hooded figure's gaze, my voice steady despite the storm inside me.
"Where am I?"
The figure tilted their head slightly, as if measuring their response.
"At the beginning."
A gust of wind swept through the trees, carrying the scent of a world untouched by time.
A new chapter had begun.