Walking around the mansion he knew as a child, Goddard was in awe of his sorroundings.

  His memories of the house in which he grew up were much worse than he presumed. After witnessing atrocities in the war with the demons, the layout of his first home was not standing out. The auburn pattern of the walls, the many paintings which displayed some long lived ancestors; all were alien artifacts from another life. 

  Goddard felt like a stranger in his own home. After the meeting with his father, Goddard had to slowly come to terms with the fact that he was a child again. He couldn't understand it, he couldn't explain how this had happened.

  Goddard bent down and felt the slightly stale rug, how it was thick like a wire brush. He could remember many times when his brother chased him through the halls and he would burn his knees on this rug. As much as he admired his brother, there was a time as a kid when he was very rough.

  "Goddard!" came a shout from down the hall, giving Goddard a chill down his back.

  Turning around slowly, Goddard saw a child with rugged blond hair standing at the end of the hall. He stood about a foot taller than Goddard and wore loose clothing that made him look like a pauper. His sleeves were rolled up to show lean arms that carried more power than they would suggest. Goddard stared up in horror at his brother who bore down on him with sad eyes.

  "Paxton...," Goddard hesitated, afraid to move in front of his brother.

  "Did dad tell you?" Paxton asked, his voice higher than Goddard was used to.

  Suddenly, Paxton did something uncharacteristic of Goddard's memories. The older brother leaned forward and hugged his brother, tackling him to the rugged ground. There were tears in Paxton's eyes as he cried, upset at the death of his aunt.

  "I'm sorry," Paxton whispered, "I know how much you loved her. It's going to be okay, Goddard."

  Feeling the strong arms of his brother around him, like a prison made of thick marshmallows, Goddard felt years upon years of misery and despair well up inside of him.

  Having to survive through a war, seeing death and destruction daily, watching loved ones die to an unstoppable opponent; it had all weighed upon Goddard's shoulders like a mausoleum.

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  To be embraced by his brother, being told that he was loved, it released floodgates that Goddard had refused to acknowledge.

  The two brothers hugged each other, crying and rolling around on the carpet.

  Goddard's horrible terrors that he kept to himself were released, even the guilt he felt when Paxton had died at the hands of a Demon Knight. There was so much that Goddard had to release, the two brothers induldged each other for an hour before a maid almost stepped on them.

  Getting up, the two brothers went outside to a spot in the garden where their mother sat. She was a beautiful woman who's brown hair cascaded across her shoulders like a stream of water. Though a little plump; to her sons, she was just more huggable. As they sat with her, they continued to sniffle from their episode on the rug.

  "Were you boys crying?" their mother asked in a soothing voice.

  "Yes," Paxton answered truthfully. "Aunt Jenine died."

  "I know. I'm the first one who heard about it. Your father was hysterical when I told him."

  "Mom, why do people need to die?" Paxton asked very seriously.

  "Because it gives life meaning," their mother said wisely. "What if I asked you to move that stone, but you had all the time in the world to move it? You boys might do it because I'm your mother, but others might not because they don't have to.

  "Now, what if I told you that you had five minutes to move that rock? You would do it within five minutes, because you don't have all the time in the world. You have a point where moving that rock wouldn't carry meaning, when whatever happens is beyond your control.

  "If life went on forever, we wouldn't see the things we do while we were alive as having any meaning. We would take our immortality for granted. Because we don't live forever, we can measure our lives and see the purpose of what we do. Your aunt loved you two very much, and she loved her own children as well. She was always very cheerful, and could make even the rainiest day bright with laughter.

   "We can measure her life and say confidently that she didn't waste a second. Everything she did carried meaning, changing the lives of everyone around her for the better. I don't understand why she had to die now, and there might not be a reason, but I believe that the world is better for the time that she lived."

  Hearing his mother say that, Goddard reflected on the life that he will live. He trained dilligently in his warrior magic, he spent time with friends, and fought for the sake of all humanity at the very end. When he thought about it, Goddard realized that he had not wasted his time. He lived, loved, and loathed a full life.

  And he wouldn't waste a second chance.

  "Thanks mum," Goddard said, mimicking a hick local he had once heard. The two brothers chuckled, then Goddard hugged his mother around the waist.

  There was a lifetime in that moment, a horrible lifetime; and he would thank whatever god or demon responsible for giving him a second chance at it.