A field that is vast and green, these lands were once desolate battlefields, filled with the remnant of war, the smell of ash and blood. With time, nature took its course and reclaimed these desolate lands, and over time, the lands healed. Flowers bloom where soldiers once fell, and the whisper of the wind carries the stories of both destruction and renewal.
The souls continue to linger here, their remembrance entwined with the soil, rustling leaves, and moving with the wind. Though the land was once a place of war, it now stands as a testimony to resiliency and the eternal cycle of life and death, providing comfort to these lost souls who were bonded by duty and sacrifice to the end.
These souls are yearning for home, unable to go back to that place they called home by the duty they accepted to end this war of attrition. They would eventually be bound into a singular entity, a specter perhaps, residing in an old, rusted armor. That is sitting alongside a mossy wall, left behind by the soul and flesh of their previous owner. Now, it would begin to move, the movement of being alive and overflowing with the vibrant energy of rebirth.
The rusted armor had fused to the specter as it became one with it. He would stand up, moving its familiar hands; he looked at the horizon, seeing the aftermath of the war. Swords, arrows, armor, and flags were all familiar to him. He looked at the skies as he saw a flock of birds migrating, a familiar feeling, he thought while raising his hands.
He begins to walk, following the path of the birds, as he looks back, remembering the place where they died and were reborn into one. These lands are still healing, waiting for civilization to cultivate them once more, and eventually, He would see people return to these desolate lands. He continued to walk, the birds out of his sight, unable to navigate to find a way home. He entered a forest as it led down into a path.
The specter had his first encounter of life. It was a human, an old lady, alongside her husband, pulling a cart filled with food, water, and supplies for living. At the back would be two young children sitting, singing their songs, as they return to these lands, hoping for a new start. He would wave at them, showing he was there in front of them, as it passed through his body. He looked behind, seeing them leave, as he realized that people could not see him nor hear him. He wondered how he would be able to go home if he wasn't able to communicate.
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He would be on his knees with this realization, his specter self grounded into the path. He didn't know what he was feeling. Were there tears supposed to fall? he wasn't sure. With the struggles of confusion filling his mind beside him, a soft-spoken but commanding presence appeared. The figure, wrapped in dark robes, spoke softly and had eyes that seemed to reflect all of eternity.
"Each soul you hold within you has a story that yearns to be heard. Experiences that foretold clues in the path you seek, the journey ahead is tragic, filled with pain and lessons from the past."
The specter, feeling a mix of sorrow and anticipation, gazed at the figure, struggling to grasp the total weight of its words. A deep sense of responsibility settled in his chest, knowing that the souls within him were counting on him to uncover their stories.
"The dead, remember. It is through recognizing that we find our way home."
As the figure handed the specter a locket, he took it with trembling hands, feeling a strange warmth emanate from the cold metal. The locket felt heavy, not just in weight but with the significance it carried.
"Going forth, in your journey, there will be items that will reveal to you the memories and the souls within you left behind. It will guide you on your way towards home."
The specter’s grip tightened around the locket, a newfound determination sparking in his eyes. He nodded slowly, acknowledging the weight of his journey ahead. The figure then slowly fades as it disappears into thin air, leaving the specter standing alone, yet not entirely alone, with the locket in his hand and the echoes of the figure’s words in his mind.
He opened the locket, and there he saw a picture of a man and a woman. A soul within him started to glow as he felt its warmth. All of a sudden, his visions were filled with flashes of memories. There, he saw the man with his wife as he carried her, and then it was their bond together during dinner. Afterward, it was the man leaving his hometown as he stared into his locket. He hid it in his pocket, looking to his side as his arms were holding a sword. Then it changed into the man lying on the ground, looking at the picture of his wife through the locket for one last time before his vision blurred as his eyes closed.
Those memories he saw showed glimpses of a part of a long-lost soul. The memories indeed showed him where he would need to go to progress into his journey. He continued walking, and feelings of familiarity were within him; he looked around; it was from the memory of the man from the locket. He walked further. There, he saw the remains of the man within him and laid into the wall where he had his final moments.
He thought the soldier spent his dying moments alone, but for him, at that time, he wasn't alone. He looked into the area, how nature took back a once desolate place, and he saw the resilience of the world. He began to realize the resistance of the world and life after conflict and that life continues moving forward.