For Good

Preface

I like to believe that somehow, all this time that has passed hasn't been for nothing. That somewhere deep and dark, he's following the unfolding tale of the world that he left instead of simply being in limbo. As he floats there, protected and waiting, I like to picture him watching what I do; where I've been; how I've lived... Of course, there are things that I would rather he didn't see. Those are the times I'm glad he's not with me. They are few, but it would be dishonest of me not to mention them.

The world has sharp teeth, and the older you get, the more it sinks them into you. The older you get, the more people believe you can tolerate. It is true that many must bear this sharp bite from a tender age. Perhaps age isn't the determining factor for everyone. I, myself, was lucky enough to wait until adulthood before facing any truly difficult or dangerous situations. That I am grateful for. Looking back to my childhood, as shrouded in time as it is, I remember only my mother's loving hand and gentle spirit. I never felt unsafe; never unloved; never alone. If only I had understood then how blessedly lucky I was. Again, my experience is unlike many. Youth does not always offer safety or comfort, but I am unerringly thankful that mine did. Had it not, I don't know that I could have beared what followed.

I often plan how I would tell the tale if need be. I have a handful of times, but not to anyone who I imagine believed me completely. Many know the legends of the story that I was a part of. They know the names and symbols as well as the most defining relationships, but they do not know enough to understand. I doubt anyone would. Well, except for one.

But even after over a thousand years, there is no sign of his return. I look for signs, of course. I have been looking ever since I sent him floating across that mystical lake. I believe I hear his voice, even after centuries of its silence. I convince myself that his eyes are staring at me, even after a millenium of them being closed in slumber. I feel him in my arms, taking his final breaths, even after so many lifetimes have passed. It has taken its toll on me. I see it in myself, though I try to deny it. Humor used to come for me even in the most trying times. I could laugh if nothing else. I was loyal to many and did all I could to see those I loved thrive. I had hope for the good.

I am not sure if he would recognize me now. It worries me at times. Perhaps he is looking for me and cannot find me. But then I remember that outwardly, I look at least partly how I did then. My hair is the same ebony, my skin still pale, my eyes still light. I have grown a bit in size, but not so that I look entirely different from the gangly manservant who spent his time trailing his young king. It's just that I've found strength to come in handy, whether it be for physical defense or a particularly trying spell. Even with the size difference, there were times I could not win.

No, the changes that have taken place in me are mostly inward. My demeanor is different, my personality subdued. The achingly long life I have been assigned to has proven much more deadening than one would imagine for someone who is immortal. But as it turns out, breathing in and out cannot keep one's spirit refreshed. Breathing can, at times, be an unfortunate anchor tethering you to a place that refuses to let you leave, no matter how much you may want to; no matter how hard you may try.

And in the midst of that unforgiving struggle, there is still an inkling of hope that one day, all of this won't have been for naught. That one day, perhaps soon, perhaps far in the distant future, I might see him again. While I cannot leave this earthly plane by any force or will, that hope periodically breaks through my stupor. It encourages my soul to keep trying; to not just exist, but to live. For a time, it breaks the chains that bind me to this existence. Because there are in fact chains.

And perhaps, one day, they might be broken for good.