Rein stood in front of the memorial of the persons lost in the war with the dragons-a collection of stone markers huddled, scattered across a quiet meadow. The winds carried their whistles across the grassy terrain reviving memories of stolen lives. His gaze dwelt unhurriedly upon those names engraved into the stones, and tightness gripped his chest.
"I thought killing the dragons would cure the pain," hissed Rein as if to make it heard. "But it never does, huh?" To Elara standing with him, her hand resting gently on his shoulder, "No, it doesn't. The past can never be undone. But we can choose to let it define us, or we can build something better in its wake."
Rein slowly nodded, but the echoes of fire from the past still rang inside him. The fire lay deep smoldering, but the hunger for revenge would never extinguish.