Year 64 (Retry - Continued)
Training Kael and Mira began the next morning, just as dawn broke over the small village.
I had forgotten what it felt like to teach instead of simply kill. The patience required, the need to break down techniques I had internalized decades ago into steps someone else could follow.
Kael was eager but clumsy, his seventeen-year-old body lacking the muscle memory and conditioning that combat demanded. Mira, barely ten, watched from the sidelines with wide eyes, too young to participate but absorbing everything nonetheless.
"Your stance is wrong."
I corrected Kael for the hundredth time, using my foot to adjust his positioning.
"You're putting weight on your front foot. That makes you stable but slow. Shift back, stay light. Movement keeps you alive."
He adjusted, wobbling slightly as he found the new balance.
"Like this?"
"Better. Again. One hundred times, until your body remembers without thinking."
The villagers watched our training with mixed emotions. Relief that someone was teaching their people to defend themselves. Fear of what I represented: the broken warrior who had become legend through violence alone.
I ignored them all, focusing on Kael's progress.
Gained: Teaching (Basic)
You remember what it means to pass knowledge to another.
By the end of the first week, Kael could hold a proper stance. By the end of the first month, he could execute basic forms without falling over. Progress was slow, but it was progress.
Mira surprised me by asking to join the training.
"I want to protect Kael too."
She said with a child's simple determination.
"He always protects me. I want to help."
I looked down at her, seeing a reflection of my younger self. Too young, too small, but burning with the need to be useful.
"Training will hurt. You'll get bruises, cuts, exhaustion. Are you sure?"
She nodded firmly.
I handed her a wooden practice sword sized for a child.
"Then we start with basics."
Year 65
Kael's progress accelerated as his body adapted to constant training. He grew stronger, faster, more confident. The desperate boy with a stick was transforming into something resembling a warrior.
Mira proved to have natural talent, her small size an advantage in the defensive style I taught her. She moved like water, exactly as Sir Marcus had once taught me, flowing around attacks rather than meeting them head on.
I found myself speaking more, explaining not just techniques but philosophy. The why behind the how.
"Combat isn't about being the strongest. It's about making your opponent's strength irrelevant. Use their momentum against them. Find weak points. End fights quickly before they can adapt."
The lessons Sir Marcus had drilled into me, now passed to a new generation.
Demons still appeared occasionally, drawn to the village or simply wandering through the region. Each time, I would dispatch them with practiced efficiency while Kael and Mira watched, learning from observation.
"Why do you always aim for the joints?"
Kael asked after watching me kill a corrupted bear with surgical precision.
"Because demons are tough. Thick hides, dense muscle, regeneration. But joints are mechanical. Sever the tendons, and it doesn't matter how strong they are. They can't move."
I cleaned Remembrance methodically, the blade still gleaming despite decades of use.
"Remember: efficiency over flash. Dead enemies can't counter attack. That's all that matters."
Gained: Mentor
You have accepted the responsibility of shaping another's path.
Year 66
Kael turned nineteen, his body now hardened by constant training. He could spar with me for extended periods without being immediately overwhelmed, though I still won every exchange. His technique was solid, his instincts developing, his courage proven through countless training sessions that pushed him to his limits.
Mira, now twelve, fought with a grace that reminded me painfully of my younger self. The same desperate need to prove herself, the same willingness to endure pain for progress.
I began teaching them more advanced techniques. How to channel intent into strikes. How to read an opponent's body language. How to fight multiple enemies simultaneously.
"Intent is everything."
I explained during one lesson.
"Your body follows your will. If you hesitate, if you doubt, your technique falters. Commit fully to each strike. Mean it. Make your enemy feel your desire to end them."
Kael struggled with this concept initially, his kind nature resisting the idea of truly wanting to kill. But necessity and training slowly hardened him.
Mira took to it more naturally, perhaps because she was younger, more malleable.
I felt guilty watching her transform from a scared child into something harder, more dangerous. But the world didn't care about guilt. It cared about survival.
Year 67
A demon warband attacked the village, thirty strong, led by a greater demon seeking easy prey.
I stood between them and the villagers, Remembrance drawn, my killing intent radiating like a physical force.
"Kael. Mira. This is your final test."
I called without turning around.
"You fight with me today, or you're not ready for what comes next."
They took positions on either side of me, weapons ready, fear present but controlled.
The battle was brief and brutal.
I carved through the warband like they were wheat, Remembrance blazing with accumulated power. But I left openings, created spaces where Kael and Mira could engage enemies without being overwhelmed.
Kael killed his first demon, a lesser creature but still a kill. The horror on his face afterward, the way his hands shook: I remembered that feeling. Remembered vomiting in a corner while blood dripped from my blade.
I said nothing, just stood nearby until he composed himself.
Mira killed two, her small size letting her slip past guards and strike at vitals. She cried afterward, but quietly, as if ashamed of the emotion.
I put a hand on her shoulder, the first gentle touch I had offered in years.
"Crying doesn't make you weak. It makes you human. Never lose that."
When the last demon fell, the village erupted in celebration. Their protectors had proven themselves. Hope kindled where despair had reigned.
But I knew this was just the beginning.
Teaching evolved: Teaching (Intermediate)
Year 68
I pushed their training harder, knowing my time with them was limited. Not because I was dying yet, but because I could feel the pull. The need to finish what I had started decades ago.
The demons were reorganizing again. Reports filtered in from travelers about new strongholds, new demon lords rising to replace those I had killed.
The war was far from over.
Kael was becoming formidable, his skills approaching what I would consider journeyman level. Another few years and he would surpass most warriors in the land.
Mira, now thirteen, fought with a ferocity that both impressed and worried me. She reminded me too much of myself: burning too bright, pushing too hard, risking burnout before reaching her potential.
"Why do you fight?"
I asked her one evening after a particularly intense training session.
"To protect Kael. To protect people who can't protect themselves."
"That's what you tell yourself. But what drives you when you're exhausted, bleeding, surrounded by enemies? What keeps you standing when every instinct screams to run?"
She thought about it, her young face serious.
"Anger. At demons for taking my family. At the world for being so cruel. At myself for being weak."
I nodded slowly, recognizing that darkness.
"That anger will make you strong. But it will also consume you if you let it. Find something else too. Something beyond rage. Something worth living for, not just dying for."
I spoke from experience, from decades of being consumed by exactly that anger.
"Did you find something like that?"
The question was innocent, curious.
I thought about Ash. About Renoa. About the family I had abandoned by choosing duty over love.
"I had it once. I lost it by making the wrong choice. Don't make the same mistake I did."
Year 69
Kael turned twenty two, and I could teach him no more. He had absorbed everything I could offer, his skills now refined enough that continuing would just be repetition.
Mira was fourteen, smaller than ideal but compensating with speed and technique that rivaled warriors twice her age.
It was time to leave.
I told them over a simple meal, the announcement settling like a weight.
"You've learned everything I can teach. Both of you are capable of protecting yourselves and others. My work here is done."
"Where will you go?"
Kael asked, though his expression suggested he already knew.
"To finish what I started. There are demons that need killing. Old debts that need settling."
"Then we'll come with you!"
Mira jumped up, determination flaring.
"We're strong enough now. We can help!"
"No."
My voice was flat, final.
"This isn't your fight. Your fight is here, protecting people who need it. Building something instead of just destroying."
I stood, gathering my few possessions: just Remembrance and the tattered robe I wore.
"Live, Kael. Find someone to love, start a family, teach your children what I taught you. Pass it on."
I turned to Mira.
"And you. Channel that anger into something constructive. Don't let it consume you like it did me."
They both tried to argue, to convince me to stay or let them come. But I had already made up my mind.
Before dawn the next morning, I left the village without farewell, disappearing into the wilderness like the ghost I had become.
Behind me, I left two warriors capable of protecting what mattered.
Ahead of me lay the path I had always walked: solitary, violent, necessary.
Gained: Legacy
You have passed your knowledge to another generation.
Teaching evolved: Teaching (Advanced)
Year 70
I returned to my killing spree with renewed purpose, but something had changed. Training Kael and Mira had reminded me what I was fighting for: not revenge, not duty, but the simple hope that others might live in peace.
Each demon I killed was one less threat to villages like theirs. Each stronghold I destroyed was one more area where people could rebuild without fear.
The Silent Death walked again, but with direction rather than just rage.
Year 71
Reports reached me through scattered travelers of a young knight making a name for himself. A warrior who fought demons with exceptional skill, who protected the weak and asked nothing in return.
They called him the Silver Blade, though his armor was standard steel.
I smiled when I heard the description of his technique. Flowing movement, precise strikes at weak points, defensive style that turned enemy strength against them.
Kael had grown into his potential.
Year 72
Demon activity was increasing again, centered around a rebuilt stronghold deep in the Dark Lands. The same fortress I had destroyed decades ago, now reconstructed and occupied by demons seeking to reclaim their lost power.
I recognized the pattern. A new demon lord was rising, uniting the scattered forces, preparing for another push against human territories.
History repeating itself, again and again.
I was seventy two years old now, my body preserved by mystic power and legendary weapon but showing wear. My hair was pure silver, not from youth but from age. Lines marked my face. My movements, while still deadly precise, carried the weight of decades.
I was running out of time.
Year 73
The journey to the Dark Lands took months, my aging body no longer capable of the relentless pace I once maintained. But I still moved forward, still killed every demon I encountered, still pressed toward my final goal.
Villages I passed through whispered about the mad old woman with the legendary blade. Some offered food and shelter. Others closed their doors and prayed I would pass by without incident.
I accepted neither hospitality nor hostility, simply continued my march toward the fortress that loomed on the horizon.
Year 74
I stood before the fortress gates at seventy four years old, looking up at walls rebuilt stronger than before. Demons moved on the battlements, thousands of them, organized and ready for war.
This was suicide. I knew it with absolute certainty.
But I was tired. Tired of fighting, tired of wandering, tired of being the Silent Death when all I wanted was rest.
One final battle. One last act of defiance against the darkness.
Then I could sleep.
I drew Remembrance, the blade blazing with accumulated power from decades of demon blood. My killing intent radiated outward, announcing my presence, my challenge.
The demons roared in response, recognizing their nemesis.
The Silent Death had come to their door.
I walked through the gates alone.
The battle that followed was beyond description. Wave after wave of demons threw themselves at me, and I cut them down with mechanical precision. Lesser demons fell in dozens. Greater demons required more effort but still died. Demon knights, sorcerers, corrupted beasts: all of them added their blood to Remembrance's ledger.
I ascended through the fortress exactly as I had before, leaving a trail of corpses, my aging body moving on pure muscle memory and accumulated skill.
But this time was different.
This time, wounds accumulated faster than I could ignore them. My Perfect Body trait kept me functional, but the damage was mounting. Blood loss. Exhaustion. The simple reality that even legendary warriors eventually fall to age and numbers.
I reached the throne room as the year turned, stepping into that familiar space at the fortress's peak.
Year 75
The demon lord sat waiting, surrounded by his elite guard. Not Malthor. He had died permanently when I destroyed his heart decades ago. This was someone new, someone who had claimed the throne and rebuilt what I had torn down.
"The Silent Death."
He spoke with a voice like grinding stone.
"Come to die in our halls at last."
"Come to finish what I started."
I raised Remembrance, the blade's light reflecting off my aged features.
"One last time."
The final battle began.
I killed the elite guard first, my blade finding throats and hearts with practiced precision. They were skilled, experienced, dangerous. But I had been killing demons since before most of them were spawned.
The demon lord himself was powerful, wielding dark magic that turned the stone floor to corruption beneath our feet. But I had faced worse, survived worse, endured worse.
We dueled across the throne room, his magic against my blade, his strength against my skill.
I was winning.
Slowly, painfully, but winning.
Then reinforcements arrived: demon generals I hadn't accounted for, summoned from other parts of the fortress by the sounds of battle.
The tide turned.
Multiple opponents, all of them powerful, all of them fresh while I bled from a dozen wounds.
I killed three more before my body finally began to fail.
A blade caught my side, slipping between ribs. Another opened my shoulder. A third carved through my thigh.
I collapsed to one knee, Remembrance still blazing in my grip but my body unable to support its weight.
The demon lord approached, his corrupted face twisted in triumphant hatred.
"You fought well, human. But even legends die."
He raised his clawed hand for the killing blow.
Then the throne room doors exploded inward.
Steel flashed in the sudden light, and the demon lord staggered backward, an arrow through his shoulder.
I turned my head, vision blurring, and saw them.
Two figures led a group of armored knights into the throne room. The first was a man in his late twenties, wearing silver armor that gleamed like moonlight, wielding a sword with the flowing technique I had taught.
Kael.
The second figure made my heart stop.
A young woman, perhaps twenty one, with silver hair braided in a warrior's style. She wore lighter armor designed for speed, moved with devastating grace, and her face: her face was Ash's features blended with mine.
Cyan blue eyes that I saw every time I looked in a mirror. The same determined expression I had worn at her age.
Renoa.
My daughter.
"Master!"
Kael shouted, his voice carrying across the throne room as he engaged the nearest demon general.
"Hold on! We're here!"
The knights flooded in, professional soldiers fighting with coordinated precision. They engaged the demons while Kael and Renoa cut a path toward me.
Renoa reached me first, her sword flashing as she killed the demon who had been moving to finish me. Then she was kneeling beside me, her hands pressing against my wounds even as tears streamed down her face.
"Mother..."
She whispered, the word breaking.
"Mother, you're here. You're alive. I searched for so long..."
I stared at her, unable to speak, unable to process that my daughter, the child I had abandoned thirty five years ago, was here, now, saving me when I had given up on everything.
Kael appeared on my other side, his mature face showing the man he had become. Scars marked his features, badges of battles fought and survived.
"We tracked the demon movements. Knew they were massing here. Assembled a strike force to destroy the stronghold before they could launch another invasion."
He smiled despite the chaos around us.
"Didn't expect to find you here. Should have known better. You always finish what you start."
The battle raged around us as the knights systematically destroyed the remaining demons. Professional, efficient, exactly what a coordinated force should be.
Renoa pulled a healing potion from her belt, trying to pour it past my lips.
"Drink this. Please. We found you after all this time. I'm not losing you again."
I pushed the potion away gently, my hand trembling.
"Too late for that. Too much damage. Just... need to know..."
I looked up at Kael, then at Renoa, seeing them both clearly despite my fading vision.
"How are you? How did you...?"
Kael understood the question behind the question.
"After you left the village, I continued fighting demons. Built a reputation. Eventually, I was recruited into the royal guard of Thornhaven, what remains of it. That's where I met Renoa."
He gestured to my daughter.
"She had been searching for you for years. When she heard about my technique, recognized your teaching in it, she tracked me down. We've been working together ever since, trying to find any trace of the Silent Death."
Renoa's hands trembled as they pressed against my wounds, her tears falling on my face.
"Father told me stories. About the legendary Princess of Swords. About my mother who chose duty over family and then disappeared. I hated you for leaving. But I also wanted to understand. Wanted to find you and ask why."
Her voice broke completely.
"And now I find you like this. Dying alone in a demon fortress. About to throw your life away when you could have come home. Could have been with us."
I reached up with shaking hands, touching her face gently. She was beautiful. Strong. Everything I had hoped she would become.
"I'm sorry."
The words came out as barely a whisper.
"I made the wrong choice. Chose war over you and your father. Couldn't live with that failure, so I ran. Became a weapon because I didn't know how to be anything else."
The demon lord, still alive despite his wounds, made one final desperate lunge toward us.
Kael was there instantly, his blade finding the demon's heart with the precision I had taught him. The creature dissolved, its corrupted essence dissipating into nothing.
Silence fell over the throne room as the last demon died.
The knights secured the perimeter while Kael and Renoa knelt beside me, my blood pooling beneath us all.
"Father is alive."
Renoa said urgently.
"Remarried, happy. He never stopped hoping you would come back. He named his new daughter after you: Elise. She's twelve now. Your sister wants to meet you."
The words should have brought joy. Should have made the ending easier.
But they just made the loss sharper, knowing what I had thrown away by choosing wrong all those years ago.
"Tell him... tell Ash I'm sorry. That I loved him. That leaving was my failure, not his."
"You can tell him yourself!"
Renoa insisted, her healing magic flowing into my wounds even though we both knew it was futile.
"We can get you back to the capital. Healers, mages, anything you need..."
"No time. Body's done. Been borrowed time for decades anyway."
I looked at Kael, seeing the man I had shaped from a desperate boy.
"You became everything I hoped. Strong enough to protect, wise enough to know when not to fight. Teach your students what I taught you. Pass it forward."
He nodded, tears streaming down his scarred face.
"I will. I promise. Your legacy won't end here."
I turned back to Renoa, my daughter who I had abandoned, who had every right to hate me but instead knelt here trying to save my life.
"You're magnificent. Everything a mother could hope for. I'm sorry I wasn't there to see you grow. Sorry I chose wrong and lost the chance to know you."
"Don't apologize."
She sobbed, her composure breaking completely as she cradled my head.
"Just don't leave again. Please. We have so much time to make up for. So many stories to share. Just stay. Please just stay."
But my vision was darkening, the edges closing in. The wounds were too severe, the blood loss too great.
Remembrance lay beside me, its light finally dimming after seventy five years of service. The blade that had been my constant companion, my father's legacy, my tool of vengeance and protection.
"Take it."
I managed to say, looking at Renoa.
"Remembrance. It's yours now. Your grandfather's blade, my blade, now yours. Use it better than I did. Build instead of just destroy."
She shook her head frantically, but Kael gently took the blade and placed it in her hands.
"She's right. You're the heir. The legacy continues through you."
My breathing was shallow now, each inhalation weaker than the last.
"I'm proud of you both. So proud. You're proof that my life meant something beyond just killing. That maybe... maybe I did something right."
The darkness was almost complete now, just a pinprick of light remaining.
Through it, I saw Renoa and Kael, my daughter and my student, both crying but both strong.
My legacy.
My redemption.
"Thank you..."
The last words escaped as barely a breath.
"For finding me. For letting me see... what I could have had... if I'd chosen differently..."
The light faded completely.
Elise, Princess of Swords, Silent Death, mother and master, died at age seventy five in the arms of the daughter she had abandoned and the student she had redeemed.
Her last thought was of Ash's smile, of Renoa as a baby, of a life she could have lived if she had been braver.
And then, nothing.
SIMULATION COMPLETE
CALCULATING RESULTS
AGE AT DEATH: 75
LIVES SAVED: 10,000+
DEMONS KILLED: 5,000+
LEGACY: ESTABLISHED
REDEMPTION: ACHIEVED
FINAL ASSESSMENT: BITTERSWEET VICTORY
SKILLS GAINED: Sword Mastery (Master) Killing Intent (Expert) Leadership (Advanced) Teaching (Advanced)
TRAITS GAINED: Legendary Warrior Broken and Reforged Legacy Bearer Redemption Seeker
SELECT TWO REWARDS TO CARRY INTO REALITY:
Killing Intent (Expert) B. Leadership (Advanced) C. Legendary Warrior D. Teaching (Advanced) E. Redemption Seeker
I opened my eyes in my room in Abydos, the familiar ceiling coming into focus as consciousness returned.
My face was wet.
I touched my cheeks with trembling fingers, feeling tears streaming down freely. Not the controlled emotion I usually allowed myself, but genuine, overwhelming grief.
For Elise. For her choices. For the life she had wasted and the redemption she had barely achieved before death claimed her.
For the daughter she had abandoned and the student she had saved.
For Ash, who had loved her and lost her to duty and pride.
I curled on my side, pulling my knees to my chest, and let myself cry. Great heaving sobs that shook my entire body, releasing emotions the simulation had forced me to experience and process.
Seventy five years of life compressed into a single night. Every choice, every regret, every moment of triumph and loss.
I had been Elise. Had felt her love for Ash, her joy at Renoa's birth, her despair at the battlefield's aftermath. Had experienced her decades of lonely violence, her broken attempts at redemption, her final moments surrounded by the family she had failed.
The Deus Ex Machina interface appeared in my vision, patient and waiting.
REWARD SELECTION PENDING
I focused through the tears, looking at the options.
Sword Mastery was useless. I used guns, not blades.
Legendary Warrior was tempting, but too broad, too undefined.
Redemption Seeker spoke to something in my heart, but it wasn't what I needed right now.
Leadership might be useful someday, but Teaching felt more immediate, more personal.
That left two clear choices.
Killing Intent (Expert) Teaching (Advanced)
I selected A first. The ability to project my will to kill as tangible pressure, to freeze enemies before they could act. It would translate perfectly to my gun based combat style, adding a layer of psychological warfare that could end fights before they began.
Then I selected D.
Teaching. The ability to pass on knowledge, to shape others, to create a legacy beyond just my own actions.
I thought about Kael and Mira. About how training them had given Elise purpose beyond violence. About how that legacy had saved her in the end, her student bringing her daughter to her side.
If I ever needed to teach someone, to pass on what I knew, I wanted to do it right.
REWARDS CONFIRMED
INTEGRATING: KILLING INTENT (EXPERT)
INTEGRATING: TEACHING (ADVANCED)
INTEGRATION COMPLETE
SIMULATION DATA ARCHIVED
REST WELL, ARIA
YOU CARRY HER LESSONS NOW
The interface faded, leaving me alone with my tears and the weight of a lifetime of memories that weren't mine but felt absolutely real.
I lay there for a long time, processing everything, feeling the new abilities settle into place alongside my existing skills and traits.
Killing Intent pulsed in my awareness like a second heartbeat, a pressure I could release at will to project my desire to end threats. Already, I could sense how it would work with my pistols, how drawing my weapons while releasing that intent would create a moment of psychological shock that could decide battles.
Teaching settled more subtly, like unlocking a part of my mind I hadn't known existed. Suddenly, I understood how to break down complex skills into teachable steps. How to read a student's capabilities and adjust instruction accordingly. How to inspire and correct and guide in ways that would help them grow rather than just drilling techniques mindlessly.
Eventually, the crying subsided. The sun was rising, painting my room in soft golden light.
I stood slowly, my body feeling simultaneously exhausted and energized. The Perfect Body trait kept me functional despite the emotional drain.
I went through my morning routine on autopilot. Shower. Uniform. Checking my pistols and gloves.
But my mind was elsewhere, still seeing Renoa's face, still hearing Kael's promise to continue the legacy.
By the time I left my room, I had composed myself externally. The tears were dried, my expression neutral, my Poker Face firmly in place.
But inside, something had shifted fundamentally.
I walked across the school grounds toward the clubroom, my feet carrying me along familiar paths while my thoughts wandered through Elise's life and choices.
I reached the clubroom door and opened it quietly.
Inside, only Sensei was present, sitting at the long table with documents spread before him. He looked up when I entered, his expression shifting from concentration to mild surprise.
"Aria? You're up early. Everything okay?"
He looked so much like Ash had in the simulation. Same eyes, same expression, same way of seeing through pretense to the person beneath.
Different context, different world, but the same fundamental kindness.
Before I could think about it, before my rational mind could stop me, I crossed the room and wrapped my arms around him from behind, pressing my face against his shoulder.
"Aria?!"
His surprise was evident, his body tensing before slowly relaxing.
"What's wrong? Are you hurt? Is the mystic acting up again?"
I shook my head against his shoulder, unable to speak past the lump in my throat.
He set down his pen carefully, his hands coming up to rest gently on my arms.
"Take your time. Whatever it is, we'll handle it together."
The words were so simple, so similar to what Ash might have said to Elise if she had let him.
If she had chosen differently.
If she had valued love over duty before it was too late.
"Just a dream."
I finally managed to say, my voice muffled against his shoulder.
"A very long, very sad dream."
"Want to talk about it?"
"No. Just... this. For a moment."
I could feel him smile even without seeing his face.
"Okay. Take all the time you need."
We stayed like that for several minutes, him patient and steady, me drawing comfort from his presence while processing emotions too big for words.
Eventually, I pulled back, wiping at my eyes and managing a small smile.
"Thank you."
"Anytime. That's what I'm here for."
He studied my face carefully.
"You sure you're okay? That must have been some dream."
"I'm okay now."
I settled into the chair beside him, looking at his documents with feigned interest to avoid his too knowing gaze.
"Just needed a reminder that some choices matter more than others."
"Cryptic, but fair enough."
He returned to his paperwork, but I noticed he stayed closer than necessary, his presence a steady anchor.
I sat beside him as the morning light filled the clubroom, feeling the weight of Killing Intent settling into my consciousness alongside Teaching.
Two abilities from a seventy five year life compressed into a single night.
One about projecting the will to end threats.
One about passing knowledge to the next generation.
I looked at Sensei, at this man who reminded me so painfully of Ash, and made a silent promise.
I wouldn't make Elise's mistakes.
When the time came to choose between duty and the people I loved, I would choose differently.
I would choose them.
Always.
The morning continued, other members of the Foreclosure Task Force gradually arriving and filling the clubroom with familiar voices and energy.
But I stayed beside Sensei, my smile genuine now instead of practiced, carrying Elise's hard won wisdom in my heart.
Some dreams were nightmares.
Some were lessons.
This one had been both.
And I was grateful for it.