There once was a little joyful boy, always picking fight with other people and always laughing with his friends.
Now, he is but a memory...
Deaths are not equal. Some are beautiful. Other are horrible. But most are just unfair. His was a bit of everything.
He wasn't affraid to die. But he wasn't ready. It was nowhere near his time. Or so we thought.
You can still hear his long forgotten melody when you walk along the prime path, during starlit nights. And if you're lucky enough, maybe you will see appear his lost soul sitting on his bench, a sword in his hand, ready for battle. A battle he just couldn't win. And he'll beg you to fight instead of him, but his combat died with him long ago. There's nothing for him down here anymore.
And, slowly, he'll disappear in the thin nocturnal air.
