Echoes of the Fallen

More about Echoes of the Fallen

Echoes of the Fallen

The twilight forest held its breath, bathed in the amber glow of a fading sun. Elara sat motionless on the fallen log, her gaze fixed on the gentle currents of the Whispering Creek. This was her vigil, her sacred duty. The world outside remembered the great battles in stories and songs, but here, in the heart of the ancient woods, the silence spoke a deeper truth.

With a soft sigh, she watched as the glyphs etched into her vambraces and tunic began to glow. They were not mere decorations; they were the echoes of the fallen. Each symbol was a name, a memory, a shard of courage left behind by a comrade who would never see another dawn. The steady, warm light on her shoulder was Kaiden, her stoic shield-brother. The intricate, pulsing pattern on her forearm was Lyra, whose laughter once filled even the darkest of nights.

She was their living monument, the sentinel of their legacy. She didn't come here to mourn what was lost, but to honour what remained. As the cool water flowed past, it seemed to carry their whispers, reminding her of the vow they had all taken. She would carry their strength, their hope, their defiance. As long as she kept watch, their light would never truly be extinguished. They were gone, but here, in her, their echoes would last forever.