Years of memories came crashing down on him like waves

images of all the friends he’d made and lal their graves

it was clear as day to him, despite his righteous heart

destiny had made a fool of him right from the start

Even though he was a hero, pure of heart and mind

fate itself had wronged him and it started to unwind

after all his selfless years at war and righteous deeds

he was in a world where mortal problems grew like weeds

So finally in solitude he had a chance to see

“it’s not that i have failed, it’s just the fault of destiny

I should be rewarded, but i’m lying here in chains

there’s no justice in the world for all my aches and pains”

He deserved a life of luxury, alone in peace

not a life in servitude of wars that never cease

“surely I’ve done more than any hero in the past

I’m sure that the legacy I’ve left behind will last”

Rocking back and forth upon the cold and stoney ground

the hero felt content with the new peace of mind he’d found

and now it didn’t bother him to see the shadows smile

he welcomed any company he got after a while

For he had chased the life of heroes written of in books

Dreaming that the world is more exciting than it looks

Now he found that what he wanted more than anything

was only to enjoy the mountain air of early spring

The hero now a broken man, just wanted to be free

and for the first time wanted nothing more from destiny

maybe one day he would have a second chance at fate

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

but with his power so slowly returning, he would wait

So after years of waiting as his power slowly grew

watching as his body healed with nothing else to do

at first a snowflake then a spark, and then a feeble light

appeared in his grey hands much to the old hero’s delight

He summoned all the fire and ice his magic would permit

just enough to crack his chains and bindings bit by bit

the prison gate itself was easy to just push out of the way

the lock was rusted through and their were no guards in the way

up the dungeon stairs he ran into the castle hall

bursting through the door and slamming right into the wall

he didn’t stop to dwell on his escape but thought it strange

he had not expected for the castle halls to change

No guards came in sight, no paintings hanging anywhere

even in the throne room there was not a single chair

for whatever reason there was nobody around

the hero hurried out onto the dusty castle ground

His legs were feeling better, though he couldn’t run for long

time recovering in jail had left him fairly strong

and as the cool air hit his face he knew that he was right

to seek a place where he could rest away from any fight

As he ran he saw the streets where once the people walked

all the inns and businesses were boarded up and locked

through the night he ran until he tired and stopped to rest

looking for a village inn that might accept a guest

He wandered through refugee camp, more or less alive

and hoped that they could spare the bread to keep a man alive

humbly he approached an inn and opened up the door

happy to sleep anywhere but on that dungeon’s floor

The fugitive approached a man who sat beside a bar

and claimed to be a pilgrim who had travelled from afar

the man was old and kind and gave the pilgrim bread to eat

and told him he should stay a while to rest is weary feet

The pilgrim sat together by the fire with the old man

and once his bread was eaten conversation soon began

the elder asked for stories that the pilgrim had to tell

the pilgrim told a story of a hero he knew well

And so he told his story but was met with some surprise

a look of sadness growing in the elder’s lonely eyes

he wondered why the man would be offended by his tale

or how a story of a hero left his face so pale

Silence fell upon the inn that made the pilgrim think

the elder slowly rose from where he sat and poured a drink

once the elder had returned to sit upon the chair

finally he spoke to cut the tension in the air

“Thank you for your story, but I’ve heard it all before

stories of the hero that the empire did adore

the hero of those stories shone as brightly as the sun

but the hero of the empire killed my only son

Let me tell a story of my own if you don’t mind

for such a tale as yours was once a common tale to find

but this is not a village with nostalgia for that man

tales of heroes ended when the empire’s reign began”

~