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Chapter 2019 - Old Comrades - Part 2

The feel of constriction, as if he had been running his head into a wall for the longest of time. As if he was circling the same drain, but never falling in. The feeling as if he was running along the edge of the clouds, and never getting anywhere that he truly wished to be.

Hollow was what the man would describe himself as. There was somewhere he had to get to. There always had been. He had a feeling that, when he heard the call heralded, that such a place was where he ought to go to.

Nothing, however, played itself to the results of his imagination. Never did the Gods see fit to reward him.

A cause that he had fought for over a decade. That he had lost men to. So many good men, good friends. A suffering that he had built up.

He looked at the letter in his pocket that had been written to him. That fading hand of his friend, with the ink growing lighter every time he pulled it out to expose it to the light – and he had done that so many times.

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