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These Exiled Years
How long has it been?
Three? Four years since this started?
Too long. Been traveling to forget.
But there was something to be found. What was it?
Who's there?
Another one?
They won't last long. They never do.
The warmth is nice, but the flames always die out.
The warmth is comforting.
Even if it is only the embers of a long dead flame.
Just like all the others, the warmth fades.
This one was just like all of the others.
This hollow feeling.
I know this well.
Always there, plucking at nerves and severing bonds.
The routine continue. Become warm, the fire moved on, start again.
What is that?
Another one?
This one was different. The fire seemed...
...rejuvenating.
The tongues of flame licked the sky.
Making even the brightest star look tarnished.
No...this one wasn't like all of the others.
This one would stay a long while.
