You step forward.
Your hands shake, but not from fear, but from resistance. Every movement costs more. Every breath tastes like lead. Yet, you still walk forward. You have to.
He waits.
White hair like the snow.
Eyes yellow, not glowing but piercing.
He doesn't draw a weapon. He doesn't need to.
You shout something and raise your blade against him.
You try to remember why you came
A city. A name. A promise?
It is all gone.
Your thoughts hit the air and fall, heavy as iron.
“Hope is heavy.” he says.
“You should have brought less.”
Your knees buckle from the weight.
Your memories collapse, each one a boulder on your spine. Your guilt gains mass. Your pride fractures your ribs from the inside.
You try to scream, but the weight of the moment crushes the sound in your throat.
Nothing comes out.
You fall.
Not struck.
Not burned.
Nor touched.
Just... measured.
He turns.
The battle never happened.
You were just another name
Another weight.
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