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 sun, the wind shaking the clothes and the hair.
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. Many sacrifices had led to this, an outcome dependent on will. As Norm was a warrior of Helm, which was already gone, he still believed that the world would surely heal. But then he realized peace came at a price. As he stared across the fields, his thoughts darkened.
He had killed many: men, women, and even those children who were trapped in war. He felt as if he had killed them all. And now that the war was over, he felt no mercy, only emptiness. He may not have 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? Was all of this outcome really dependent on fate?
"Dad?" a voice rang from behind.
Norm turned slowly. His son, Leo—the only child he had—stood behind him.
"What are you doing here?" Leo 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?" Leo frowned.
"Nothing, my son," Norm replied with a small smile. "Let's go visit your mother's grave."
"Okay," Leo nodded.
After visiting Hilga's grave, Leo returned to his friends. Norm remained, sitting by her resting place. He ran a hand across the old stone. Only Leo was left by his side now.
"I am the one who truly achieved my dream," Norm whispered, "but it wasn't all. If you had been here through life with me, it would have been better… but look at this, Hilga, your son, everyone. When you asked for their safety, I kept that promise. But I think the promise of me living till the end may be broken, because I truly don't deserve it for the sins I committed."
He sat there, letting the silence speak. The wind embraced quickly, the sun going slowly as time passed. 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.
"Leo!" 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 something else."
Norm's breath caught.
"The Battle of Tabah… we surrendered. We dropped our weapons. But you—" his voice trembled with rage—"you showed no mercy. You cut us down like animals. My only son… in front of me. I saw a spear in his chest and all the other people… all lying on the ground. Tell me—was that the act of a true warrior?!"
Norm looked away. The image of the war—young men, 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.
Norm: "That day, many lives were lost, ours and yours, and that's how war is. I cannot say that I was good, nor can I say that you were bad. It was a fight bound by fate, and you cannot undo it, though you chose to trust the darkness. It was your sin that led to that moment…"
Lyoth charged through revenge. Norm calmly unyielded the sword, and 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, even though he was like death—so even darkness got goosebumps from him—stood above him. But something inside Norm broke. He saw a pact that ran through his mind. He may live, but he cannot protect them every day. He has to let these blades become the shield again for humanity's sake.
"I don't deserve this victory," he said. "I'm still killing, even now. I could win… but I feel nothing. My hands tremble, though my will still stands. Maybe I've already lived my life enough with this world."
He looked up at the sky, the moon shining brightly in his eyes.
"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, a memory reboot he saw, the past blooming like a flower. Many memories jolted him, though he accepted it like death. He closed his eyes without opening them. 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 the shadows, going back from where he had come.
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, alive, waiting to rise again… in a thousand years, or even more.