chapter 15.4

The night grew darker, yet Alcard pressed forward, allowing his black steed to tread steadily along the desolate, rocky path. The cool night air whispered against his skin, carrying the scent of damp earth and the lingering fragrance of wet leaves. The rhythmic sound of hooves against the ground was his only companion, but within his mind, there was no such silence. Memories, questions, and long-buried emotions resurfaced, filling the empty space that solitude often left behind.

His thoughts drifted back to the old tales of the Life-Seer—beings said to hear the whispers of the world, chosen guides meant to lead fate along its destined course. He repeated the name in his mind, trying to grasp the significance of what he had encountered. Arwen was a Life-Seer. The fact still felt foreign to him, as though he was still trying to convince himself that everything he had witnessed was real.

"Life-Seer…" he murmured, his voice nearly lost in the night wind. "A being who is said to hear the world's call and guide destiny to its rightful path."

He searched his memory for stories about them, but all that remained were fragments, old myths that had been buried with time. No one spoke of them anymore. Even in historical records, mentions of their existence were scarce. It was as if the world had deliberately erased them.

"Perhaps we humans chose to forget," he mused. "Compared to elves and dwarves, our lives are fleeting. We destroy more than we preserve. If Life-Seers truly existed in the past, then history may have long since deemed them mere myths."

And yet, he had met one. Arwen was not just some noblewoman running from her past—she carried something far greater, something the world itself seemed intent on keeping hidden.

"If I had known earlier..." his thoughts trailed, wandering toward possibilities that had never come to pass. "If I had met her before all of this, before my life was shattered… maybe things would have been different."

Old memories crept in from the shadows of his mind. A past he had tried so hard to bury now surfaced with painful clarity.

His wife's face emerged from the depths of his memories—a woman with a gentle smile, one that could calm him even in the most difficult times. Then, he saw his daughter, a child with bright eyes filled with curiosity, whose laughter had once filled their home with warmth. They had been his world, the reason he fought, the reason he endured the brutalities of war.

But that happiness had long been reduced to ashes, stolen from him in mere seconds by deceit and betrayal.

Their images twisted into a nightmare that never ceased to haunt him. He saw them standing beneath the execution platform, accused of treason against the very kingdom he had devoted his life to protecting. He could still hear them calling his name—his daughter's small, frightened voice, his wife's composed yet sorrowful tone as she faced her fate with dignity, knowing no one would listen to the truth.

There had been nothing he could do. He, the strongest warrior in his kingdom, had been powerless, forced to watch the people he loved most be taken from him.

His grip on the reins tightened, fingers clenching as if trying to hold onto something long lost. His chest felt heavy, like a weight pressing against him, refusing to let go. The pain never truly faded. Years had passed, yet the wound remained open, as raw as the day it was inflicted.

"This is foolish," he muttered to himself, trying to push the memories away. But he knew the truth—pain like this could not simply be erased. Loss like his could never be forgotten. It had stripped him of everything—his family, his honor, his life as he once knew it.

He gritted his teeth, holding his breath to quell the emotions threatening to consume him. "Why does it still feel as if it just happened?" he questioned himself, weary of the ghosts that refused to let him go.

But he knew he could not remain shackled to the past. They were gone. Nothing could change that. The only thing left for him to do was ensure that no one else would have to suffer the same fate.

"I couldn't save them," he admitted in a hushed whisper, his eyes fixed ahead, staring into the vast horizon that seemed to swallow him whole. "But I won't let myself be trapped in these memories forever."

With a breath that carried the weight of years of sorrow, Alcard forced himself to focus on what lay ahead. The Wall. The place he had dedicated his existence to after the world cast him aside. The place that never judged him, yet never granted him peace either.

His grip loosened, releasing the tension he had held onto for so long. He knew that the answers he sought would not come easily. But if there was one thing he was certain of, it was that his journey was far from over.

With a firm pull on the reins, Alcard urged his horse forward, letting the night wind brush against his face. His past may still chase him, but he refused to let it bind him forever. He could not change what had happened, but he could ensure that the future would not end in the same tragedy.

Above him, the moon remained suspended in the night sky, the lone witness to the journey of a man seeking peace within himself—a man who had lost everything yet still endured, because he knew his story was not meant to end just yet.

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