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On the Wind

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King Guardia...

Queen Leene...


The wind swirled around the ruined castle. It had neither name nor memory, merely a whisper of fading feeling, bound to the world because...


The wind couldn't remember. 

A name floated on the wind. A name it knew it couldn't forget, no matter what.


What was Leene?

The wind couldn't remember. 


The name went with Leene, in some way. The wind raced around the ruins, seeking out tattered scraps of memory within the fallen leaves. Guardia was a name, a person, a place...

...a castle?

Was this Guardia?

The wind howled in fury and pain.

It must not be Guardia! 

The wind blew through the bones of skeletons, around the stone with marks worn thin, over the dancing lights. They all called out to it:




Where is your Guardia?

(what is Guardia?)

Where is your Leene?

(what is Leene?)

All gone, all gone...

(No!) was deserved!


The wind screamed in fear, and knew not why. The skeletons laughed, and did not say why.

The moon shone down, uncaring. 

Glenn would fix it.

What was Glenn?

Glenn was... 

...Cyrus' friend.

Cyrus' friend, Glenn.

Glenn would fix it, since Cyrus had failed.

Cyrus had failed....

What was Cyrus?

The wind stopped. 

Was this Guardia?

(dusty hallways, cracked stone, forgotten?)

Where was Leene?

(dust? gone? forgotten?)

Why had Glenn not stopped it?

(where was Glenn?)

Where was Cyrus?

The wind screamed. 


Glenn would fix it.

Glenn would save them where Cyrus had failed.

Where was Glenn?

Had even Glenn failed?



Only failure.

Cyrus' failure. Glenn's failure. Leene's failure. Guardia's failure.

All was lost.


All fools.

The castle was unrecognizable.

(was it even Guardia? Had Guardia ever existed?)

The people were gone.

(had there been any in the beginning?)

All was lost.

(fools who challenged, fools who fought, fools who died)

The only thing left...

...was sorrow.

...was bitterness.

...was fury.

...was hate.

A group of children - real, human children - crept up the path to the castle. They avoided the darkest shadows of the woods, edged around the broken stonework, and finally, finally, slipped through the castle itself, whispering dares to each other in the first voices the ruins had heard in years.

Cyrus met them at the gate. Glenn was gone. Leene was gone. Guardia was gone. All was gone. Darkness had won, and he threw himself against all who would dare disturb this final resting place.

The skeletons laughed.

The children fled.

The moon shone down, uncaring. 

Years passed.

Decades passed.

Centuries passed.

Another group came, striding through the woods with no fear. A boy with red hair. A woman in furs. And a frog in armor.

Cyrus met them, screaming in rage, raising his sword in final, useless defiance.

Only the faintest memory remained.


Centuries reversed.

The wind swirled, seeking a knight, seeking a queen, seeking a kingdom, seeking a friend.

Glenn was gone.

But walking up the road to the ruined castle came:

A boy with red hair.

A woman in furs.

And a frog in armor.

Cyrus met them, and remembered.