The wind howled across the barren plains, a cold, cutting wind that carried the weight of everything that had come before—every battle, every betrayal, every dark corner of Diego's soul that had been dragged into the light. The world around him had become a desolate landscape, a twisted reflection of his own internal torment. But as Diego stood there, the remnants of his past swirling in the distance like ghosts, he felt something different. Not peace, but resolve. A quiet, grim acceptance.
Stallion stood beside him, quiet for once. There was a tension between them, an unspoken understanding. They had been through hell together—faced nightmares that defied explanation, traversed realms of madness and pain, only to come out on the other side bruised, broken, but still standing. Yet now, in this final moment, Diego knew what he had to do.
He reached up and adjusted the brim of his cowboy hat, pulling it low over his eyes. It was a gesture that seemed to come naturally, as if he had always known this moment would arrive, that he would one day be ready to leave everything behind and take that last ride. But this time, there were no expectations. No gods to appease. No brothers to surpass. No legacy to fulfill.
"As you told me, Stallion," Diego said, his voice low and steady, "Let's do our final ride... by myself." His eyes hardened as he gazed out into the horizon, the endless expanse of nothingness that symbolized all that had been lost and all that could never be reclaimed. "Not for Amir. Not for my mistakes. Not even for Milkahi."
He looked at Stallion, who remained silent, a rare moment of understanding passing between them. Stallion had always been there—sometimes a voice of reason, sometimes a reflection of Diego's own pride, but in the end, more than a companion. Stallion was part of Diego's journey, but this last ride, this final chapter, was something Diego had to do alone.
A small, tired smile crept across Diego's face as he patted the horse's neck. "Just for me."
For a long time, neither of them spoke. The weight of everything hung in the air between them, heavy and oppressive, but also strangely freeing. Stallion knew what was coming. He could see it in Diego's eyes, in the way his fingers tightened around the reins, in the way he squared his shoulders and stared into the distance with a kind of grim determination.
There was no fear in Diego now. The fear had been burned away long ago, replaced by something else—something darker, but also stronger. He had accepted his darkness, embraced it even, but he had also found something beyond it. A reason to keep going. A reason to ride one last time.
The sky above them was darkening, heavy clouds rolling in, casting long shadows across the barren landscape. It felt apocalyptic, like the end of everything, and perhaps it was. Perhaps this was the end of Diego's world, the last chapter in a story that had been written in blood and sacrifice. But it didn't matter anymore. There was no fear, no dread. Only the ride.
Stallion shifted uneasily, sensing the weight of the moment. "Are you sure about this, Diego?" he asked, breaking the silence at last, his voice carrying a strange mixture of sadness and pride.
Diego didn't look at him, his eyes fixed on the horizon. "Yeah, I'm sure. I've been running from this my whole life. Running from the truth, from myself, from everything. But not anymore."
The world around them seemed to hold its breath, waiting, watching. The air was thick with tension, the kind of tension that comes before a storm, before something irreversible happens. Diego knew there was no turning back now. This was it. The final moment. The final ride.
He swung himself up into the saddle, his body moving with the ease of someone who had spent a lifetime in the saddle, even though that lifetime had been fraught with pain, betrayal, and darkness. The horse beneath him snorted, restless, eager to run, but Diego held the reins tightly, waiting for the right moment.
Stallion took a step forward, his expression somber. "You know, Diego... this ride, it's not just about you. It never was."
Diego finally turned to look at Stallion, his face shadowed beneath the brim of his hat. "I know," he said quietly. "But that doesn't change the fact that I have to do this. Alone."
Stallion nodded, his eyes filled with something akin to sorrow. "Then ride, Diego. Ride like you've never ridden before."
Without another word, Diego urged the horse forward, the powerful beast beneath him surging ahead with a wild, untamed energy. The wind whipped through his hair, the ground flying beneath him in a blur of motion. The world around him seemed to dissolve into nothingness as he rode, the barren landscape stretching out endlessly before him.
And then, out of the corner of his eye, Diego saw something. A shadow. A figure. At first, he thought it was a trick of the light, a hallucination brought on by exhaustion and the weight of everything he had been through. But as he rode closer, the figure became clearer, more distinct.
It was Amir.
Diego's breath caught in his throat, but he didn't slow down. He couldn't. He wouldn't. Amir stood there, watching him, his expression unreadable, his eyes filled with something Diego couldn't quite name. But Diego didn't stop. He rode past Amir without a word, without a glance back.
And then he saw Milkahi.
His brother's face was twisted in rage, just as it had been in that final moment, the moment Diego had left him behind. But again, Diego didn't stop. He rode on, faster, harder, pushing the horse to its limits as the wind screamed in his ears.
The figures kept appearing, one after another—ghosts from his past, shadows of the people he had lost, the people he had failed. But Diego didn't stop for any of them. Not Amir. Not Milkahi. Not anyone.
Because this ride wasn't for them.
It was for him.
As he rode, the sky above him split open, lightning flashing across the darkened sky, illuminating the world in brief, violent bursts of light. The ground trembled beneath him, cracks forming in the earth as if the world itself was coming apart at the seams. But Diego didn't slow down. He rode harder, faster, pushing himself and the horse to the brink.
He could feel it now—the end. It was coming. The world around him was collapsing, dissolving into nothingness, but Diego kept riding, his eyes fixed on the horizon.
And then, just as the world seemed ready to swallow him whole, Diego smiled.
For the first time in his life, he was riding for himself.
Not for power. Not for redemption. Not for anyone else.
Just for him.
And as the darkness closed in around him, as the world fell away and the ride came to its inevitable end, Diego felt something he had never felt before.
Freedom.
The End.
