There was a time when it would have mattered. When giants were gentle and magic a thing of joy.
Those times were gone.
The blood dripping from his bandaged arm leaves a trace of crimson behind him, he doesn’t care anymore.
Elves, witches, dragons… all gone. Nothing but cold darkness exists outside the castle walls. And even that is slowly fading, swallowed by the growing void.
He sits on the throne, surrounded by silence. This is not a battle, it’s something worse. It is oblivion.
A single tiny flame keeps the darkness out of this room, and that too will soon be gone… and him with it.
They wait together, for the end to come.
Still, the dwindling spark refuses to die, as if clinging to the last traces of hope for salvation of this dying world.
–Dad! What are you doing with my books!?
–Your mom and I are just packing some old stuff for the charity bazaar.
–But not my books!
–Honey, you’re not a little girl anymore. You’ve already overgrown those childhood stories.
–You know how much they mean to me.
–I know, sweetheart. But with you leaving for college soon and we moving to the condo we thought it would be easier if you had less clutter to take care of.
–Dad, books are never ‘clutter’. And besides, you never overgrow your first friends, even if they’re knights, witches and elves.
–I know my little dragon, I know.
Somewhere –in a land far, far away– an old king and a fiery dragon smile, watching the sun rise again.