Short Stories

Burning Light

“Sir?”

    The younger man pushed the heavy door open, peaking into the poorly lit room cautiously. Frowning at the quiet sobbing coming from further into the room, he walked into the room with his hand on the hilt of his sword. As he neared the source of the sobbing, he heard the man whispering to himself.

“Gods damn you, Henrietta…”

    Hand still resting at his hip, he leaned against one of the tall bookshelves and listened to the man’s hysterics.

“Your selflessness never left you ‘til the bitter end and you died without a curse to anyone’s name, yet here I sit sobbing and cursing you as you join our ancient family.”

    At the sound of something crashing to the floor, the armor clad paladin stepped around the bookshelf and cleared his throat.

“Are you o—“

“No! Let not those words cross your lips! You know damned well I am not okay.”

    The older man stood up and faced the paladin, the flickering candlelight showing all the gouges and dents in his armor. He wiped at his face with the back of his gloved hand, his cheeks still wet with tears as he spoke.

“She was the torchbearer, Alden, and I am not ready to carry the flame.”

“Kenneth, you’ve led the order for centuries.”

    Kenneth slammed his fist on his desk, the ancient wood creaking from the force.

“No! I’ve only led our soldiers to die in wars, and for what? Our ancient homeland is ours, the Origin is once again home to the Order, but yet we still fight our so called ‘Holy Wars’ against our neighbors.”

    The younger man said nothing for a moment, glancing at the half-empty bottle of wine on his desk.

“Ken, you’ve been drinking…”

    Kenneth made a low growling noise in his throat, grabbing the bottle.

“I’ve not had a drop in over five hundred years, Alden. Do you not think I deserve this after what’s transpired?”

“I don’t think you need it, sir.”

    He rolled his eyes at the paladin, tilting his head back and taking a long drink from the bottle. He slammed the bottle down on the desk, ignoring the cracking noise that the aged glass made.

“Everyone I knew before the ‘Great Fall’ is gone, Alden. My mother, my father, my sweet baby sister…”

    He trailed off, staring past Alden for a moment before shaking his head.

“And now Henrietta is dead along with the rest of them. I am a man from a time long dead, with more scars than any man should ever have to bear, in a world that has long since forgotten my people. I am alone in this world, son.”

    The young man didn’t say anything, he just watched Kenneth grab the cracked wine bottle and walk over to an armor stand. Light filtered in through a grimy window and thin curtains, illuminating the damaged helmet that sat atop the metal figure. Kenneth took the helmet off of the stand and looked down at the exposed wiring, tracing his finger over the torn and twisted metal.

“She had the burning light within, Alden.”

“You are no bringer of the dark yourself, Kenneth.”

    He sat the helmet back on the stand, turning to Alden with a sad look in his eyes. He glanced at the small candle that burned on the corner of the ancient wooden table, the flame nearly flickering out under his gaze.