“Do not be afraid, it will only hurt once and you will only feel cold.” The man said reassuringly “your death will save the lives of thousands dear child.”As the young one quietly sobbed he moved the stone basin into position underneath their head. With a quick stroke and a gasp, the basin was soon filled with the crimson flood. With a heavy heart the stranger left the child to their well deserved peace, the child would no longer suffer nor would he know the horrors unseen his gift would help hold back.

He sighed as the grief overcame him, even though he only spoke to the child a few times and the child never said a word to him, the man would never forget him. The child would join the dozens that had come before, as saviors of this land unbeknownst to all. “This child would not be known to history as a hero, or known at all except to his family who will no doubt be looking for him, but i will regard him until the end comes.” he thought to himself as he had with all of them.

He moved through the dark winding caverns seamlessly approaching the chamber he had stood vigil to for all these years. His robe occasionally being caught by rhe tattered remains of his fellows lining the path, he always avoided the gaze of their hollowed eyes, for they had abandoned him to his solitude. One by one they had surrendered having lost the will to continue their work, “The fools, they knew the cost” the man thought, “They thought only of themselves and cared not for the cost of their actions.” A terrible chill ran down his spine as he pondered what could have happened had they actually enacted their plot. “The audacity of it, they would’ve doomed the world and for what? A month of so called life that they could’ve never returned to?” As he passed the remains of the ones who chose to stand beside him amongst the chaos, his anger quelled and was replaced with sorrow. He would continue their duty in solitude.

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As he approached the runed wall, he steadied himself and splashed the child's gift onto the weathered runes and watched it fill in the carvings upon the wall , dreading that he must begin searching for another “hero”.  In this moment he realized he had never watched the gift be fully received, he had always fled the chamber, the sigils on the wall filling him with a sense of hollowness that he could not bear. As this was his first offering alone, he decided he would face his duty as nightmarish as it was, proudly and with his chin held high.

The blood just pooled at the base of the wall. There were no sounds or machinations, the blood just dripped over the ridges and onto the ground.

“Shouldn’t there be more?” he thought, “An act of this magnitude should be more, something. Something has to happen right?”