The warm glow of the hearth flickered across the stone walls of Eldrin’s home, casting long shadows that danced eerily in the corners of the room. His wife, Ylvara, had fallen asleep on the couch with her new book resting on her chest, while the gentle murmur of his children's voices drifted down the hallway, their rooms tucked away upstairs. Eldrin sat at the edge of their bed, staring at the fire but seeing something far more sinister in its flames.

  The crackling wood reminded him of the fires of the battlefield—the searing heat that had charred both his enemies and comrades alike. His fingers clenched into fists, nails digging into his palms as he blinked rapidly, trying to shake the images from his mind.

  But they wouldn’t leave.

  Eldrin decided to lay down for the night, hoping—praying—that the nightmares would give him a reprieve. But the weight of the day’s exhaustion wasn’t enough to stave off the demons that waited for him in sleep. His body may have been still, but his mind was always restless, teetering on the edge of nightmares.

  And tonight was no different.

  His dreams twisted into something far darker, dragging him back to the battlefield. The unpleasant scent of blood and burning flesh filled his senses. The clang of steel rang in his ears. He was there again—at another horrible moment.

  Grobr.

  The towering orc from the Southlands stood beside him, his dark skin glistening with sweat, his tusked grin visible even through the chaos of war. Eldrin had never thought he would call an orc his brother, but Grobr had become just that. A bond forged through years of fighting side by side, saving each other’s lives more times than either could count.

  Eldrin’s heart pounded as he remembered the battle that took Grobr from him. The skies had darkened with the shadows of enemy wyverns, their screeches tearing through the battlefield. Everything had happened so quickly. One moment, Grobr was there, his axe cleaving through foes, his laughter booming even in the midst of war, as if he was invincible.

  And then, in the blink of an eye, it all changed.

  Eldrin turned just in time to see the wyvern swoop down from the sky. Its claws, sharp as blades, latched onto Grobr’s shoulders. The orc’s laughter turned into a guttural scream of pain as the beast lifted him into the air. Eldrin had reached out, screaming his friend's name, but it was too late. The wyvern rose higher and higher, Grobr’s body dangling helplessly, his eyes wide with panic.

  And then he was gone.

  Taken. Ripped from the world in an instant.

  The memory of that moment had burned itself into Eldrin’s soul. He could still hear Grobr’s scream, still see the helpless terror in his friend’s eyes. His nightmares forced him to relive it, over and over again. No matter how many battles he had fought, no matter how much time had passed, that one moment always found a way to haunt him.

  Eldrin jerked awake, his chest heaving, his body drenched in sweat. His heart was racing, as if it were trying to escape his chest. His eyes darted around the room, wild and disoriented, still half-trapped in the nightmare. For a moment, he wasn’t in his bed. He wasn’t home. He was back on the battlefield, surrounded by blood and death.

  He could still hear Grobr’s scream echoing in his ears, still feel the cold emptiness that had consumed him when he realized his friend was gone.

  Forever.

  His hands trembled as he wiped the sweat from his forehead, but the shaking wouldn’t stop. The room felt too small, too suffocating. He needed air—he needed to escape. His legs swung over the side of the bed, and he stumbled to the window, wrenching it open with a gasp. The cold night air hit his face, but it did little to calm the storm raging inside him.

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  He gripped the windowsill, his knuckles turning white. His body was here, in the safety of his home, but his mind was still trapped in the past. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t move on. He couldn’t forget.

  Grobr’s face lingered in his mind, the pain and terror etched into his expression as he was torn from the ground. Eldrin had seen many comrades fall, but Grobr’s death had gutted him in a way he couldn’t explain. The world had once been divided—men, elves, orcs, dwarves—all at war with each other. But times had changed. The races had learned to coexist, to fight together instead of against one another. And in that unity, Eldrin had found friendship where he never expected it.

  Grobr had become a brother to him. And now, he was gone.

  Tears welled up in Eldrin’s eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He had to be strong. He had to move on. But every night, the dreams came back. Every night, he was forced to relive Grobr’s death. And every night, he was reminded of his failure. He had reached out for his friend, but he hadn’t been fast enough. He hadn’t been strong enough.

  Eldrin’s hands trembled as he gripped the window frame harder, the wood creaking under the pressure. The cold wind brushed against his skin, but it did nothing to cool the fire of guilt burning inside him.

  How could he move on when the past refused to let him go? How could he heal when every night his mind was dragged back to that moment, to the scream that never stopped ringing in his ears?

  His wife stirred in bed behind him, her soft breathing a reminder of the life he was supposed to be living now. But no matter how much he wanted to be the husband and father they deserved, the shadows of war clung to him like a curse, dragging him deeper into the darkness with every passing night.

  Eldrin closed his eyes, fighting back the tears, and whispered to the wind, “I’m sorry, Grobr. I’m so sorry.”

  Eldrin, decided to go for a walk. It happened most nights, when he couldn’t sleep, he would just grab a book and try to stave off the nightmares, but tonight he chose to walk, to walk alone in isolation. He needed to get outside of the house in fear of waking up his wife and children.

  Silently, he made his way to the elegant armoire standing tall against the wall. With a careful hand, he reached in and retrieved a finely crafted tunic, a pair of trousers, and a sturdy pair of boots. The tunic was fashioned from fine linen with a rich blend of gray and deep green, reminiscent of the earth itself. Its high collar and intricate stitching along the edges were adorned with delicate patterns inspired by nature - leaves, branches, and trees intricately intertwined. In no time at all, he had effortlessly slipped into the tunic and trousers before descending the stairs in careful steps. He deftly avoided disturbing the household pets as they lounged peacefully by the warm hearth, their gentle snores filling the air. After sliding into his stout boots and draping a dark cloak over his shoulders, he quietly closed the door behind him, leaving behind the warmth and comfort of his home.

  Once outside Eldrin decided to just pick a direction and start walking. He soon found himself walking back towards the city and the quiet town. As his thoughts raced, he thought about all of the past adventures that he had embarked on and his time in the service of the Empire and those friends that became family who were now gone from this world.

  The moon hung low in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the landscape, and he found himself lost in memories that felt more like nightmares than recollections. Yet he walked on.

  He recalled the time he witnessed a sailor go mad during a late-night attack on their ship. The enemy emerged from the shadows like phantoms, their silhouettes flickering in the firelight as they set upon the fleet. He could still hear the desperate cries of his comrades mingling with the crashing waves and the roaring flames. In that chaos, he saw the sailor’s eyes—wild and haunted. Overwhelmed by terror, the man hurled himself overboard, disappearing into the depths of the sea, as if seeking solace in the watery abyss. Eldrin had wanted to shout, to save him, but his voice had caught in his throat, paralyzed by the horror unfolding around him. The ships burned, lighting the dark waters in shades of crimson and gold, and all he could do was watch as the inferno consumed the lives of those, he had shared dreams and laughter with.

  The memories often clawed at him, surfacing when he least expected them. His first assignment haunted him even more vividly. The ambush had come swiftly, a wave of goblins descending upon them like a storm. They had come armed with runes and dark magic, unleashing chaos upon the ranks of unprepared soldiers. Eldrin remembered the cold, metallic scent of blood mingling with the acrid smoke of burnt earth and torn flesh. He could still see the glint of their wicked weapons and hear the guttural chants of their sorcery echoing in his ears, a cacophony that drowned out the shouts of his fellow soldiers as they fell, one by one. Each life extinguished left an indelible mark on his soul.

  The losses piled up, each one etched into his memory like deep, jagged scars. He could still see their faces, the men he had laughed with and shared stories of their hopes and dreams. They were like ghosts that haunted him, flickering in and out of his thoughts, constant reminders of how fragile life truly was. Every morning, he woke up with a heavy heart, burdened by the weight of their absence. And every night, the visions returned, haunting his mind with dread and uncertainty. The memories were like a never-ending reel, replaying repeatedly, each death cutting deeper than the last and leaving behind a permanent mark on his soul.

  Eldrin's hands trembled like leaves in the wind, the chill seeping through his thin tunic and sending shivers down his spine. He felt adrift in a world that had once been so familiar, now twisted by shadows and loss. The echoes of children's laughter in his mind felt like shards of glass, sharp reminders of a time when his heart was not heavy with grief. But now, the chaos of war had transformed him into a shell of his former self, leaving him hollow and wandering aimlessly through a reality he no longer recognized. Every step felt heavy, as if he were walking through mud or quicksand, weighed down by the burden of his past and uncertain future.

  Closing his eyes against the memories that clawed at him like dark tendrils. The world felt far away, as if he were trapped in a dream he could not awaken from. In the silence of night, he walked and grappled with the specters of his past, trying to find the strength to confront the man he had become. As the shadows of war continued to loom over him, he understood that healing would be a battle in itself, one he was determined to fight, even if the path ahead was fraught with uncertainty and fear.

  Eldrin took a deep breath, grounding himself in the present. He had survived the storm, but now he had to navigate the wreckage left behind. The journey to reclaim his life would not be easy, but he was willing to face it head-on, one step at a time. With resolve in his heart, he knew he must find a way to honor those he had lost, to let their memories light the path toward healing, and ultimately, to forge a new destiny amidst the ruins of the past.