Tania recalled the memories of old. This is the memory of a young boy who was thrown into the chasm of despair. This boy who had nothing, and was nothing. The boy who fought through a war.

The sky was burning. The sound of screaming. The dry air and the smell of burnt corpses lingers. On the horizon was a giant whose skin was like a rock. Once there was a boy who walked through the valleys of the dead. Alone, his sword vibrating, the razor-sharp blade enhanced by water.

“Oh Lord,” the old man said, he was once a boy. He readied his sword-arm and used his sword to deflect a blow. Then, he parried, rolled out of the way, and threw a flask at this shadowy monster leaking smoke. He took a sprint, slid on the sand, and cut the monster’s hind legs. The monster screamed, it reached out to the old man, the old man barely defending the blow of the monster.

Forcing his body up, the man conjured a spell with the use of his left hand. The rune spell lashing like thunder, grabbing the monster around the thigh. The monster pulled back, dragging the man on the sand. The old man stabbed his sword, pushing his upper torso up, he conjured a rune spell, blasting his body upward. The monster rounded, turning its shadowy face towards the old man.

The old man flicked his fingers. The shadow burned like a bonfire, it shrugged, grabbed towards the old man with its shadowy claws. He stomped the shadow’s face. Conjured a lashing that turned into a green light of energy, wrapping a rope of light around the shadow’s neck. He pulled the lashing, using his body weight to stab the chest of the shadow.

The shadow squirmed, the old man grabbed his eyes and roared as his eyes burned with a soft light. The old man panted, his mouth pouring blood, his grizzled hair, his sigil marked eyes shoving memories of the dead. His veins glowed with pale blue light, and his wrinkled skin written with scars of battle.

“Old Man,” said a soldier, his left arm facing the wrong direction. “You’re still alive?”

The old man turned. “Young Rae, you are alive?”

“I should say the same, Sir,” he said. “I don’t think there are any others left.”

“Ah, is that so?” He turned towards the fields filled with the dead. Their weapons scattered on the ground, the blood wetting the dry sand. The sky burned. The wretched smell of the corpse lingered. His mind did not shook as it was before.

“Young Rae,” he said. “Do you see any bannerman alive? Any Walkers that still live?”

“Just us, Sir Nolan.”

“I see.” He wiped his sword with his cloak. “We must forge on. This valley of death will kill us.”

“Not like we have a choice, Sir.”

Old Nolan turned to the Young Lad. Born in a time of war, unable to know anything other than fight. He even heard from the lad that he thinks that the sun doesn’t exist. That was he was born into this cruel world. Old Nolan picked up his pace, traveling down the desert with Rae, navigating through the dead, the living, and those who seek to destroy them.

They found themselves climbing inside a cave. There, he found crates, and rolled sleeping bags, with an extinguished campfire in the middle. Old Nolan hauled the boy up, turned towards the supply crates and opened it. His limbs were glowing pale light, the runes carved inside him were getting intense. He never knew that killing a Revenant who took down his men would make him feel so alive.

“Sir,” Rae said, slumping on one of the rolled bags. “Do you think that I can see this sun?”

“I will not give you false hope. But if we win this fight then there might a chance.”

“Sir, we’ve been fighting this war ever since I was a young babe in my ma’s stomach. My ma always laments about the sun and the shimmers of the lake. I don’t even know what these flowers she says. I saw portraits around but I never really believe in them, Sir.”

“They exist.”

“I wonder if I can see someone day?” He glanced at Nolan. “Though Sir, I never thought I’d be following a man like you. Everyone knows you, Sir. You vanished after the pale mountain. Never thought I’d see you here near the demon’s river.”

“I am marching to the final battle, lad. If we succeed, then you might just see the sun.”

“I’d like that, Sir.”

“There is enough food here, lad. You can survive long enough to last the final battle.”

“I’m going Sir, I am not a coward.”

“No coward would find themselves here, lad. You are young and strong. You can have your peace if you stay still for months.”

“I am not your soldier, Sir.”

“Of course, I am not. Still, would you honor this Old man’s request?” He looked at Rae. “If I am to die, then I wish you’d find my body. If the sun doesn’t come back then travel to the last oasis and held it until death.”

“I don’t understand, Sir,” he said. “Where are you going, Sir?”

“I do not need rest,” he tugged his gauntleted hands. “This cave is yours, lad. I still have a long way to go. If you do indeed search for my body, then please bring it back home. Though I am not hopeful enough that you’d do it, and I understand. Who would search for an Old man who thought of something so stupid?”

Nolan Salvatore marched to the final battle. Tania didn’t know what happened, but she saw the young man searching a hopeless desert for an old man who marched towards the end. If it wasn’t for the young man named Rae, then Nolan Salvatore would have been buried under the sands. Out of respect, the young man hauled Nolan’s corpse back to those who knew him, his body buried and honored - a bleak walker who had his final rest.