Nef slammed his hand against his nightstand, thundering into the silence that enveloped his room. His pacing by the window halted by his confusion. He braced against the window frame, breathing heavily, holding on to more than his balance.

 “It comes in waves,” the thought echoed as he sat on his bed beside the window. 

The night was deep—dark, with only the light of the moon to remind anyone that light ever existed. A silver locket lay heavy in the man's hand.  Was it heavier now? Or had it always felt this way? Everything feels heavier now–guilt? He adjusted to allow for a better viewing of his inheritance. His body was frail, a failing distortion of what he used to be, riddled with aches and pains. It ached at that very moment. He pushed himself up closer to his window towards his headboard. 

“Have I forgotten? Will I remember when you’re gone? Was it real, the version I know or the one I see?”  He paused, the thumping of his heart easing with each breath. It would not take much more.

“ They call to me. They bid me take my place among them,” He whispered. 

It comes for us all, but he needed to know. He needed to understand why some stared at him, why she could never look him in the eye. He was fortunate enough to linger. Although, at times, he’d rather not have. Life is beautiful, but it, too, is suffering. 

 He still held tightly to the vivid imagery that startled him awake, the terrible sight of war and death. The faces of men he knew and loved. But even more, more he dare not utter. He clung to his world by staring at the shadows dancing randomly across the landscape outside his window. He sat silently. 

He rubbed his thumb on the closed shell of the locket. Would he remember it all this time? If it was true, could his ancestors forgive him? 

“ No, not much longer now,” the thought echoed in his head. It had been for the last few days.  “ I can never tell if it’s me anymore. Or if it’s this thing.”  His thumb pressed against the locket more forcefully. The sweat beaded from his brow.  

His room ended the run of a long hallway; it was a single bedroom holding only a bed, a small fireplace, a chair, and a single nightstand. It was small, but it suited Nef just fine these days. 

The locket had always brought him comfort, put to ease his heart. Much like she said, it would. He could remember so much more with it in his hand. He could see his brother, mother, and father; their faces were vivid and happy. He could see his happiest days roaming the woods with his big brother.  It took away the pain, but he couldn’t help but feel something was missing. He had other memories and visions that didn’t seem right. Faces where they shouldn’t be. Was it a futile attempt to heal his heart? He still had the pain of a past that would often come and go. All slowly sifting away in the night, waking to a new day clutching the locket in his hands.

Was it falling, him now?  It seemed so small to Nef, his thumb passing over it for the hundredth time. He never truly knew if it worked, but he had always hoped it would.

“I always think I have forgotten most of it.” He brushed his brow. “Maybe that’s a lie? Certain sounds ring to my memory, some I’d never suspect, every shallow wisp of wind that pecks my skin and cools my face.” 

He paused to take note of the scenes playing out in his mind. His eyes locked on the dead tree branches and snow-covered ground that blanketed the area outside his window. 

“It’s at night—when they come for me. Then I forget,” Nef said, talking to the ghost of his memory. He placed his head in his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. He rubbed his eyes, lifting his head slightly. His knuckles were wet from tears. He could hardly make out the silver locket in his hand, his eyes weak from his age. His shaking hand pulled the locket closer, the moon’s light illuminating it as if it were a trophy of some triumphant victory. In many ways, it was. 

He closed his eyes and felt the cold metal radiating into his palm as he held the locket.

 “Such a little thing,” He said; an image rushed to his mind, and the wooden walls of his room began to melt into mud and snow. 

The sky was dim, smothered by rolling clouds that struggled to hold back bright golden rods. They beamed down onto the snow-covered field just in front of Nefron. The wind blew slightly, but the chill was a familiar feeling to him. They had been posted here for the last three months, never enjoying the beautiful autumn fields of Regelian Fields, only the cold, dead, and frozen plains that covered the fields as far as the eye could see. They had been ordered here to dig trenches. Supposedly, the Aduni were planning an assault to push further north of the Velor Strait. No one knew with certainty why the Aduni suddenly attacked and waged war; at least, nobody Nefron talked to seemed to have any real idea. He had suspicions that the higher-ups in the chain of command knew more than they were telling the regular folk and soldiers. He assumed it would come out when needed and that his ancestors would see that things were made right. 

He believed the stories his father and grandfather told him, that his ancestors had a hand in shaping his fate and they would guide him to truth and strength. It was comforting to him.

 “Nef!” A voice pierced through his reminiscent thoughts as a man approached him from a few feet down the trench’s narrow and muddy walkway. 

“I got an extra ration from the supply box they were giving them out,” the man said smiling, walking along the path of the mucky trench and gnawing on a piece of brewd.

 “Those things are awful, like eating a piece of tree bark coated in two-day-old sock sweat.” Nef grinned as Wel approached him.

 Brewd bars were an everyday ration among the men out in the fields of war. They were dark brown and felt like compacted sand that held together just enough to hold it in your hand without falling apart. Sometimes, the men would boil them down into a stew and throw whatever else they had into it. As bad as they tasted, they were full of everything a person needed to survive out in the trenches.

“I got you one,” Wel said.

 “Aw, why thank you for the sock sweat,” Nef jested.

  Wel handed Nef the sack containing the rations and placed his hand on Nef’s shoulder while he peered out into the frosted fields. 

“I am familiar with them by now. I’ve been too hungry for too long to care about some gourmet meal in Tursk that I ain’t gonna get,” Wel said.

He stuffed his mouth with a brewd square, some crumbs dropping from his mouth.

  “Plus, that’s not all we got,” he said with a silly smile.

He quickly raised his eyebrows as if he knew some grand secret and was about to let Nef in on it. Nef opened his sack and saw four brewed bars. At the bottom, there was something else, something white. Nef put his hand in the bag to pull out the little white paper box he saw. He opened it and was surprised to find four square Fudge Cakes placed on some parchment paper. 

“How many did you get?” Wel asked.

 “Four,” He replied.

 “I got five; I’ll half my last one with you.”

 “Why?” Nef said.

 “Gotta take care of baby brother after all,’’ Wel teased, nudging Nef with his elbow.

 He still had his looks, but the war had aged Wel; his once vibrant oak hair had seemed to dull since the war started, the age lines on his face more profound and more carved in. Nef was sure the last eight months of war had done a number on him. But his eyes remained ever emerald, a common trait among the Hultorn men.

Nef had joined Captain Wel Hultorn’s company just as they received the orders to head to the fields. He wondered if it was luck or if his ancestors blessed him to end up in the same company his brother commanded. Nef had been eager to join the fight just as much as any other Thaxion or Tali for that matter. He hated what the Aduni had done; he knew the Aduni were ruthless and that something had to be done. They had murdered hundreds of his kin folk and even distant relations during their assault on the southern fields after crossing the Velor Strait. As soon as he was of age, he left his home of wealth and plenty to fight. A boy captured by wanderlust or foolish bravado, he would come to wonder.

 A few hours passed as Nef and Wel sat with their backs against the trench walls, the satisfaction of the sweet and rich Fudge cakes still tickling their taste buds. It was midday, and the clouds had grown darker, further strangling the light struggling to squeeze through. It was silent, and Nef couldn’t stop thinking about why they got brownies. The rations had never contained them before, and he was doubtful that it came out of kindness. Nef noted Wel holding a silver locket and rubbing the closed cap with his thumb. The locket was round with silver filigree artistically tangled around it. The center was embossed with a Vanisian petal plant. It tangled in a vine with thorns that grew along the stem, producing a single rosette that bled blue in the center and green into a teal-colored edge. 

The Vanisian was a popular but rare plant. It was used in medicine to heal one’s heart, whether damaged by age or a broken love. Wel noticed Nef looking at the locket. Holding it up, he said, 

“Nasille gave it to me just before I deployed. She said, when my heart starts breaking and the loneliness becomes too much to bear, this enchanted locket will help mend it and get me through until I can be with her again.” 

Wel smiled and looked down at the locket in his hand. “I think about her every day. I am not sure if it helps; a year is too long,” He said, staring off into the distance as if watching the last year pass by. 

Nef sat half in awe and enthralled at Wel opening up to him. It seemed the war had changed Wel even on the inside. It brought out a tenderness and an urgent sincerity that he figured could only come from seeing how finite life can inevitably be. Many men believe that war purely hardens a man, but it doesn’t; for many, it prioritizes precious life and those important in ours. 

Wels face darkened, “Everything we have seen, our friends dying, our home being blasted to bits by those damn Aduni machines,” he clenched his teeth and flared his nostrils, “I am not sure this locket is cut out for healing something that broken.” He sounded defeated.

He sank a little into himself and the trench wall. 

“I guess I hang on to it anyway because why not? Maybe Nasille is right, and it can; she usually is,” he said with a smile, looking back up at Nef. Maybe she can save me.” He added jokingly as he patted Nef’s shoulder and began to stand quickly, not allowing Nef to respond.

Nef listened intently to his brother’s words. He knew that it was rare for Wel to open up or be vulnerable with anyone, even himself. He might have been the only other person besides Nasille that Wel ever talked to that way. Despite that, Nef looked up to his older brother. He was strong, brave, kind, and funny, everything Nef tried to be. Somehow, Wel managed to be all of that, even if he had a bit of brash bravado. All Nef managed was to be the biggest, with Wel’s head barely reaching his jawline. Nef stood up beside Wel, looking out into the snowy distance. 

“Well, does the thing even tell the time, or what?” Nef added in a dry tone, attempting a joke to lift the somber mood. 

A small laugh crept from Wel’s mouth as he turned to Nef. He made a significant act of opening the locket to show Nef the time in a sarcastic way. Nef saw a miniature illustration of Wel and Nasille dancing inside the locket.

  “Maybe it works, just not in the way we might think; you never know,” Nef said with sincerity. 

“The world can be a strange place with strange happenings all the time. I think if she says it’s enchanted, then it is. We need something good in this world like that locket; otherwise, all we’ve got is this wretched place and the Aduni. It’s nice knowing that some good still exists, even here.” 

Just as Wel closed the locket to put it back in his hip pouch, a loud sound echoed across from them to the south, where they were facing, deep into the white-glazed field. Both men glared with intensity into the misty field. They could hear the sound getting closer, a rhythmic rumbling punctuated with a twisting metallic growl. In the distance, both men could see an orange orb the size of a small wagon light up and flicker several hundred yards away. 

Dark flames danced around the edges of the orb as the light grew and intensified. With a mechanical hiss, the orange and black flamed orb rose, hurdling through the air with alarming speed. It flew across the sky like a phoenix, smashing a crater into the ground two hundred feet from the trench where Wel and Nef stood, and reverberated for what seemed like miles. Then came the explosion. The concussive shock wave blasted the men, almost deafening them. Debry flung into the air. Rock, mud, and blood splashed on Nef's face, causing him to squint his eyes reflexively. Then, another low growl and another hissing sound. It was clear to Nef that they were under attack! 

Nef knew that he and Wel were on the front lines facing toward the Velor Strait, which lay a hundred miles south. This was undoubtedly the Aduni; having crossed the strait eight months prior, they’d come to finish the job of taking the Felts entirely. Nef grabbed his spear and checked to see if the charge was ready. “Today was the day,” he thought.

Anger swelled inside him, then came fear like a long drawn-out embrace from death itself, smothering the rage like a blanket over fire. He had almost believed the war was over. He knew Wel had seen his fair share of conflict, but that had been six months ago, and there was no word about any other conflicts on the front. He had assumed they had made a deal and were working out the details. Nef peeked over the ridge of the trench, holding his blast spear. 

The mist had lifted some, and he could see a mass marching towards them in force. Large machines he had never seen trailed behind the footmen pressing forward in absolute order, their gray and gold armor stealing away the rays of light that pierced the battlefield just as they stole the Southern Felts. They held their tower shields at the ready.

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The machines stood twelve to fifteen feet tall with human-like arms and legs that stomped across the battlefield. They seemed made of an unfamiliar metal and cut stone, which was strange to Nef. The metal bits that littered across the different body parts of the anomaly glistened with a green and violet sheen, and the stones, deep and black, glowed with red cracks that seemed to traverse up the whole body of the wretched thing like rivers that somehow gave life to the creature if it was a creature at all. Red glowing eyes pulsed from the head obscured by the mist; there was no decipherable face to make sense of. The machines seemed eldrich with an air of ethereal distortion like some ancient forbidden mysticism, as if they had come from some far-off world out among the ancestral planes. They struck fear and dread into the heart of Nef, something he could not and would not forget for the rest of his days. 

The explosions echoed around the trench, only being cut through by the sounds of Nef’s kinsman screaming and moaning.  His company had begun to fire charges toward the Aduni with their spears. Nef aimed and took a shot. The blast zipped across the battlefield like a bolt of lightning. He watched the shot smash into an infantry footman’s shield, causing a light blue aura to appear and disappear in a flash. The blast had stumbled the Aduni soldier, but only just as he quickly fell back into rank, raised his shield higher, and pressed forward. Nef’s eyes widened, and he was taken aback by how easily the soldier shrugged off the shot.

He had seen shields block shots before from blast spears, but it always damaged the shield or went through and killed the one carrying it. He had never seen someone bounce back so quickly from a blast. Nef looked around again and could see that some of the men had caught on to this and were beginning to panic as they rushed to find better positions or take cover from returning fire. The Aduni marched forward, unfazed.

Nef could hear Well order from a bit down the trench. 

“Focus your blasts on one target!” Wel shouted. “Two to a target! Work together in pairs!” He added, grabbing two men and leading them shoulder to shoulder. “Remain focused!“ He yelled as he pressed up against the trench wall, aiming with his spear down range at the Aduni.

“Hultorn, you’re with me!” He shouted to Nef as he grabbed another spear off a dead soldier who had been hit by sharp debris a few seconds before. It was charged up and ready for another shot.

 “Nef, when I take this shot, you fire at the same target as me, then I will hit him with a third that I got for him,” he said, tilting his head towards the spear beside him. 

This time, Wel wasn’t yelling but calm and collected. He seemed to know exactly what to do, whereas Nef had been baffled just seconds before after what he had seen, with no idea where to begin. The Talmon and Thaxion army had started launching ballistics at the Aduni, sending silent arrows wreathed in blue flame across the sky towards the advancing Aduni. The otherworldly war machines trampled ever forward. Silent arrows slammed into the tower shields of the footmen, finally breaking through them and into the chests of the Aduni infantry, knocking them to the ground. A second shockwave then hit the frontlines. 

Silent arrows were a standard weapon of warfare. They launched massive darts, usually enhanced by alteration magic, to melt through most heavy metals and other means of defense like walls. They never made a sound on impact, no matter how sturdy the surface or how hard it hit the target. Nef was relieved that at least something he thought should happen did happen, but 

the arrows did not affect the massive machines that drove the infantry forward like cattle to the grazing. 

The machines barreled forward with arrows glancing off, only the occasional arrow sticking through. However, the arrow flames did no damage but fizzled out as soon as they struck the large machines. Nef had a sense that nothing like these things should exist at all, that they were an abomination conjured by unseen evil that propelled them onward. It was likely the same evil that drove the Aduni forward, prompting the killing and laying waste to all that they touched. They twisted what man should be, good and honest, into a murderous and unquenchable thirst for domination and suffering. 

Wels shot brought Nef back to the battle and struck an Aduni square in the chest, knocking him back. The armor was made with the same enhancement that seemed to be on the shield, merely staggering the soldier. Nef gathered himself and took aim. The blast crashed into the man, dropping him to both knees. One more blast from Wel’s second spear hit the man, smashing into his helmet this time. The man fell face down to the ground, unable to move again. 

The Aduni stepped over him as if he wasn’t there; never taking a second look, they closed rank, filled the gap, and continued towards the front lines. They showed no emotion, no fear as they pressed on, covering more ground with increased pace. The silent arrows dropped, coupled with shots from the blast spears crashing into their front lines. More Aduni fell, but they marched onward unshaken, much like the machines that towered over them. The explosions flung debris in every direction—the towering monsters through more orbs with increased frequency. Nef’s heart raced, and his stomach turned; he could see the soldiers who were battling beside him 

moments ago were now on the ground, bleeding from different parts of their bodies. Some had already gone on to the great unseen to be among their ancestors.

 The Aduni had been firing their blast spears, which seemed to hit harder and deliver much more devastating damage than Nef or any of his company's men. Nef couldn’t comprehend what was before him, such loss and chaos. One by one, more men dropped, and blood ran through the trenches like a river of mortality, eager for the lake of life again. 

The Aduni eventually came upon the trenches. Nef was already exhausted and could see that his brother was, too. He was afraid; he was terrified even. His hands trembled. In his heart, he knew this was the end for him. As bad as he wished he had more time, there was nowhere to retreat; any chance for that was long gone. Fear pelted over him intensely as his knees grew weak, and his mind raced, thinking of all the things he missed, all the memories of his family, and all the things he would never get to see. He wanted a family of his own—children. He gripped his spear with fear, anger, and panic and held it close. He knew that things had only just begun. The Aduni would now descend on them like the force of a tidal wave. 

Nef sank into a squat position, waiting for what would come. The first Aduni soldier dropped into the trench just beside Nef, who quickly fumbled and got the drop on him. He inserted his spear blade deep into the ribs of the soldier, placing his mark just between the plates of gray metal that covered the footman—driving it in with all he could muster. He was surprised it worked. “They can die,”.  To his surprise, whatever had been protecting them must have worn off. 

Nef could see from his peripheral that Wel had downed another soldier behind him, but more were pouring in. For every one they killed, two would replace him, and soon enough, it 

was labored close combat. Nef lunged his spear into the armor of another Aduni; it was not a clean thrust, embedding in his armor. The enemy returned the strike with a joust of his own. The spear narrowly missed Nef’s chest but instead sliced his left shoulder. Nef groaned in pain and pulled the trigger of the embedded spear, blasting the soldier in the abdomen. The blast knocked the soldier to the ground, killing him almost instantly. 

More Aduni leaped into the trench, quickly outnumbering Nef’s company. Nef pulled an ax from his belt at his hip and swung it violently with all his might. He battled with the Aduni, smashing one in the head and dropping him to the ground as he relentlessly launched a flurry of swings on another, repeatedly hitting the metal helm of the Aduni footmen until there was hardly a helmet at all. Nef had lost himself in battle, and in that frenzy, he became a monster. He saw only death, only survival, another moment given by taking someone else’s. He continued his assault, ending the life of another Aduni. Was this war? Is that what this is? Standing upright to catch his breath, he could see the mayhem of war. Nef didn’t want it anymore. He never really did, or did he? Was he a fool and getting exactly what he signed up for? Or was this purely a necessary evil to keep even worse evil at bay? 

A hand came reaching from behind Nef and grabbed his shoulder; it was another Aduni. He had Wel’s locket around his neck, and without hesitation, Nef struck him in the side of the head with his ax handle as the blade had broken off in his last assault. The strike knocked the Aduni warrior down, and doing the same as he had just done before, but with a much more strained effort, he hit the soldier who grabbed at Nef and attempted to defend himself with his arms. Nef struck until he could no longer lift the axe handle. 

Completely drained by the fight, he sat back on his knees with labored breathing. It was over, and he knew it. He fell onto his side on the cold, blood-soaked ground, exhausted. The scent of death filled his airways.  Nef looked to his side and saw his brother’s green eyes wide open, long dark channels of blood streaming down his face, mixing into a pool of mud; he stared into the abyss. He would soon join his brother, lying motionless in the mud. Nef could see the locket clenched tightly in his hand. He had a mind to leave it with his brother but couldn’t help but hold on to it. It seemed to bring peace to his mind in those moments. Almost forgetting where he was. The Aduni seemed to ignore Nef as he lay there. He looked up into the clouds as they moved across the sky. His eyes filled with tears as he watched the sun shine brightly through the gloom.  The clouds quickly parted, revealing a beautiful blue sky. He had never noticed it so blue before. 

Nef’s hand had inched towards his brothers, both now holding the locket between them. He felt okay; he felt peace. Happy memories with his brother rushed to his mind. He felt as if hope had been plucked from some realm and placed in his heart. There was still good in this world. Even if not now. He turned back towards the sky. It was so blue. 

The memory faded, and Nef sat in his darkroom on the edge of his bed, locket in hand. A warm light slipped into the room, cutting through the shadow as the creaking door pulled his attention to the small opening in the doorway. 

“Are you okay, Nef?” A young man’s voice asked in a hushed tone.

 “Everything is fine,” Nef replied, a bit shaken. 

It seemed old age had eased into Nef’s body out of nowhere, as the memories felt like moments ago. He was surprised he had made it as long as he had. Ninety years is a long time in the world and a long time to miss those you love. 

“I am fine, Kelt,” Nef affirmed as he turned to face Kelt at the door. “Really,” he added.

  “Okay, Nef, good night,” Kelt replied, closing the door as he left the room. 

Kelt walked back down the hall and into the main room of the building. It was made of a tin roof and wooden walls. A large desk was placed along the back wall facing the entrance. It wasn’t much to see, just your run-of-the-mill waiting area. The craftsmanship of the building was sturdy, even if the materials used to build it were cheap. It was converted from an old tavern into lodging for the eldest of the kingdom of Graythax. Many did not make it to such places, but the ones that did were typically more prominent or had wealthy families that wouldn’t or couldn’t care for them any longer. 

The lodging was nice, but it never felt like home to those living there. Nef had been placed there by an old family friend who worried he was a danger to himself and possibly others. He stated that there had been some concerning outbursts lately and that it wasn’t in Nef’s best interest to be alone anymore. 

Kelt sat beside his friend Malion behind the large desk. 

“I feel sorry for him,” Kel said. 

“Yeah,” Malion replied, looking towards Nef’s room.

“How do you reckon someone can live that long?” Malion asked.

“I don’t know, to be honest,” Kelt replied.

“I reckon he’s at least eighty,” Malion said, rubbing his bottom lip.

 “He was in the battle for Regelion Fields. I know that much,” Kelt said, seemingly excited to get into the details, as he loved studying ancient battles and old warriors. 

Almost everyone in Graytirn, especially within the capital of Graythax, knew of the battle for Regelion Fields. Every winter, a special day was set aside to remember the lives lost. There was mourning during the day and celebration feasts at night. They celebrated those who kept their honor for their ancestors and ascended to their places among them.

“How did you figure that?” Malion asked curiously.

“My uncle told me he heard it from my grandfather,” He replied, taking a drink from his water.

“That had to be hard to witness,” Kelt added while taking another drink.

“He has always seemed like a good fella to me. I can’t imagine seeing what he saw,” Malion said.

“Me either; a lot of Taxion and Talmon died there. I asked Nasille about him, too,” Kelt said.

“You’re Grandfather's sister, the Medy lady?” Malion asked, a bit confused.

“Yea, as far as I know, she and Nef are the only ones still around from then; who else could I have asked?”

“ So you asked her about the battle or about him?” Malion queried. 

“ About him, I can get the details of the battle from the library or any of the forty books written about it,” Kelt said.

“ I wanted to know more about him,” Kelt continued.

“ What did she say?” Malion asked.

“ Not much, just that he killed a lot of Aduni, so she says. That doesn’t surprise me. I can see it; he was a big man back in his day. He is still tall now,” Kelt said, playing with the rim of his now-empty cup.

“ But that was not why I am so interested in him really,” Kelt said.

He leaned in towards Malion closer as if to hide his forthcoming words.

   “My grandfather said he bludgeoned his brother to death in the trenches at the Fields.” Kelt paused momentarily, realizing the abrupt shift of tone in the room.

 “Foresi hig mich,” Malion cursed in the old tongue, mouth slightly ajar.

 “My grandfather said he fell into madness during the attack. He couldn’t discern the Aduni he’d been killing from his brother. They found him days after the battle wandering the woods around the Gap of Untherion, delirious and half dead,” Kelt said. 

The look on Kelts' face was one of empathy and sadness.

“That silver locket you see him with all the time. He was clenching it when they found him. He couldn’t remember a thing.”

Kelt stood up and stretched, holding his empty cup.

“ I guess a few days later, he remembered being there and fighting, but that was it. That was my grandfather's story, anyway. I had hoped Nasille would have known more. She comes to visit him from time to time,” Kelt added.

“ It would have been nice to know what really happened,” Malion said, looking down the long hallway towards Nefs' room with a puzzled look on his face.

  Nef sat on the edge of his bed, the room silent, staring out into the black. The moonlight played in the garden just outside his window. He noticed something he had paid no mind to 

before. The tiny bud of a leaf had begun to sprout outside his window, bound to the end of a tree branch. 

“I have forgotten so much,” Nef thought.

 “I can hardly remember his face,” He said as he paused, squeezing his brow as if trying to force an image into his mind. 

“What happened to him? One second, he was there, and another, he was — oh, they’ve come for me again,” He thought, wiping his eyes. 

“I miss him,” he said out loud as if he were speaking to someone in the room. 

“ Do I even want to remember anymore? Maybe that's your gift.” He patted the locket. 

He placed the locket on the side table beside his bed, the moon again painting it with its light, the vanisian petal in full bloom, etched into the metal. Nef fell back into bed, adjusting his blanket and pulling it to his chest. There was a snap; a single crack ran through the locket's metal exterior.

“I know I forget, but I think she was right. Wel—I think she was right,” he whispered with a grin.  Nef lay in bed for a moment, then turned his head. Seeing the locket on his side table, he said, “What a wonderful locket; I wonder whose it is."                                                         

The End