The room was silent. Everyone stood still, as if even a single breath could shatter the fragile quiet. The general's face was motionless, almost sculpted, but his eyes… Those eyes spoke louder than any words. Tension sat within them—perhaps shock, perhaps something else I couldn't name. The dark-clad figures had their eyes fixed on me, standing motionless, as if even they weren't sure what would happen next.
And the ruler.
I saw that he was unsettled. For the briefest moment, something unreadable flickered across his face—confusion, perhaps anger, or something else he didn't want to reveal. But in the end, he merely turned away and walked out with slow, deliberate steps. He said nothing. He didn't look back. He didn't have to, because even from the line of his back, I could feel the weight of his decision.
Just before he stepped through the door, his gaze met the general's. A wordless message passed between them—an order, an understanding. I couldn't tell.
The general only approached me once the door had closed behind him. He stopped a step away and looked me straight in the eyes. His voice was calm, but beneath the surface, something unspoken vibrated.
— Come to the courtyard. We will soon honor our fallen comrades. That is where we will spend the evening.
For a moment, I thought that was it. That this entire moment would end with a single, simple sentence. But as he turned away, he added something—almost as if it were an afterthought, something of no real importance.
— You will bear the consequences tomorrow.
He didn't say what he meant. But he didn't need to.
I knew.
I knew exactly what it meant. I knew what I had risked, what I had lost in that room. And I knew that this might very well be the last day I would feel the wind on my skin, the scent of the earth in my lungs.
But there was no fear in me. No bitterness.
Only a strange, quiet feeling—liberation.
Night fell, and the wind carried memories with it like whispers.
Among the hills, under the pale light of the stars, we sat with the dark-clad warriors, gathered around a small campfire. The flames painted golden and red shadows across our faces, and only the quiet crackling of the fire broke the silence. The ruler had not been seen since.
No one spoke, but they didn't have to. With a single glance, I could tell—they knew. They all knew.
Deep within me, an old melody stirred. A song I had learned in childhood. A song that now broke the silence as if it had been waiting for this very moment.
Slowly, softly, I began to sing.
If the world looks at me with disdain,
I know my path is true, not in vain.
To be born into this world—a wonder,
To live in it—a gift, a spell we're under.
But to leave it—that is grace,
Letting go, setting the boat to open waves.
Why does man fear his fate so?
What must come, will come, no matter the word.
As the river flows, so life moves on,
Whether we will it or not, it's never gone.
There is no out, no within,
Only light-beds where we spin.
Our own dreams hold us tight,
We do not drown, yet weather the storm's might.
There is heaven, and flowers bloom on graves,
The sun will rise anew, shining on our face.
My voice melted into the night, and the wind carried it forward, as if it, too, knew the melody. The dark-clad warriors listened, at first in silence, but then something shifted between us. Those who had sat still until now seemed, in that moment, to become more human. Someone picked up their belt buckle and began tapping a rhythm against the ground. Another plucked at a piece of wood, as if strumming the strings of an invisible lute.
We had no instruments, yet we played music.
And on that night, in that single stolen moment, as the melody rose to meet the stars, the hardened, battle-worn warriors lost their armor.
It was not a joyful song. But it was not sorrowful, either.
It was simply a song carried by the wind, far beyond the hills, beyond the glow of the fire.
And for the first time in my life, I felt truly free.