13 Years Later...
The sun shone bright. The scent of flowers drifted on the wind. Nature flourished in calm harmony. A soft summer breeze danced through the valley, gently swaying the clothes of those who stood beneath the sky.
Summer had returned, and the farmers were busy in the fields, growing vegetables with help from cheerful villagers. Laughter echoed, old songs were sung, and from generation to generation, the people lived as if in a dream.
Norm sat on a rock high on a hill, watching the sun bathe his valley in golden light. This—this was the dream he had fought for. But peace came at a price. As he stared across the fields, his thoughts darkened.
He had killed many: men, women, even children. And now that the war was over, he felt no mercy, only emptiness. He had saved everything he loved—but what about those he destroyed? Would others rise to avenge them? And if the flames of hope ever vanished… who would rekindle them?
"Dad?"
Norm turned slowly. His son, Leon—the only child he had—stood behind him.
"What are you doing here?" Leon asked.
"I came to look at the view. The one I once dreamed of. And now that I've reached it... there's no going back."
"Going back?" Leon frowned.
"Nothing, my son," Norm replied with a small smile. "Let's go visit your mother's grave."
"Okay," Leon nodded.
After visiting Hilga's grave, Leon returned to his friends. Norm remained, sitting by her resting place. He ran a hand across the old stone.
Only Leon was left by his side now.
"I never truly achieved my dream," Norm whispered. "It was a lie. My real dream was to grow old with you… but I lost you. I lost my friends, my parents… I lost everything."
He sat there, letting the silence speak.
Time passed quickly. Night had fallen.
Then—fire.
He opened his eyes wide. The fields were ablaze. Flames devoured everything: crops, homes, and people. Screams echoed. Norm jumped to his feet, heart pounding. He ran to his house.
"Leon!" he shouted.
He flung open the door.
Blood.
His son's head lay motionless, red pooling beneath it.
"No…"
He jolted awake, drenched in sweat. It was just a dream. Midnight had barely passed. Gasping, he rose from Hilga's grave and began walking back.
But then—
A violent force slammed into him from the shadows, hurling him across the air. His back struck the side of a mountain. Bones cracked.
A figure stepped out of the darkness.
"You've grown weak, Knight of the Dead," the voice sneered. "Once, I never dared to touch you. But now… I've thrown you like a pebble."
Norm struggled to his feet. "Who are you?! What do you want?! Who sent you?!"
"I am Lyoth, the Dark Warrior. Loyal servant to my master."
"You've come to avenge him, haven't you?"
"No, no," Lyoth smiled bitterly. "I'm here for my daughter."
Norm's breath caught.
"The Battle of Tabah. You killed her. We surrendered. We dropped our weapons. But you—" his voice trembled with rage—"you showed no mercy. You cut us down like animals. My daughter… she was beheaded in front of me. Her hands, her head, her legs… all lying on the ground. Tell me—was that the act of a true warrior?!"
Norm looked away. The image of the girl—young, terrified—flashed in his mind. He had ignored the cries that day.
And now, they screamed louder than ever.
Over the years, his strength had faded. His blade, once legendary, was now rusted.
Still, he raised it.
Their swords clashed. The wind howled. Trees bent and broke from the force of their battle. Norm's rusted blade, still burning with will, pushed back Lyoth's twin swords. With a final strike, Norm shattered one of them.
Lyoth dropped to his knees.
Norm stood above him. But something inside him broke.
"I don't deserve this victory," he said. "I'm still killing, even now. I killed your daughter. I could win… but I feel nothing. My hands tremble, though my will still stands. Maybe I've already lived my life."
He looked up at the stars.
"I won't kill you," he said at last. "But I'll make a pact with you. A pact sealed by my life. When the flames of hope rise again, you may return with your army for revenge. Until then, stay away from the kingdom of Thoms. That is the condition."
Lyoth spat. "What are you plotting, you filthy coward?"
"You can kill me. But if the flames of hope vanish forever, no one will rise to stop you. Someone must light them again. Let this be a pact—between life and death."
Lyoth stood slowly. "Very well. The day those flames rise again… I'll come back. And I'll wipe out every valley, every kingdom within Thoms."
The sun began to rise, casting golden rays over the hill.
Without a word, Lyoth sliced off both of Norm's arms in a single motion.
Norm fell to his knees. Blood soaked the ground. He looked back on his life—war, death, loss—and realized he had never known happiness.
A tear slid down his face as he whispered, "I'm sorry."
And with one clean strike, Lyoth beheaded him.
The dark warrior smiled coldly, kicking Norm's body into the river. His blade followed. The head remained on the cliff, watching the sunrise.
Then Lyoth vanished into shadow.
The valley fell silent once more.
And in the wind, the scent of flowers danced again.
But just before it faded… the flames of hope sparked one final time.
Waiting to rise again… in a thousand years.
The End,