The battlefield lay silent, littered with bodies and broken weapons, a sea of loss beneath a smoky, gray sky. In the midst of it all, a lone knight knelt, his armor streaked with mud. His sword lay discarded beside him, replaced by an instrument he’d found in a looted caravan. The weight of grief bore down on him, as heavy as the battles he’d fought, and he began to play a mournful tune that drifted through the field like a farewell.
Each note was a tribute to the fallen, to friends he couldn’t save, faces he could barely recall through the fog of endless war. The sound cut through the silence, a desperate cry against a life lived only to kill, only to be a pawn in a game he no longer believed in.
As the final notes faded into the cold air, the knight lowered his head, a lone figure in a field of ghosts, bound to a fate he could never escape.
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