Standing all alone, a nameless warrior comes to a vast expanse. A long stretch of decrepit rope bridge sways clumsily across the mighty river before him. Behind him is a landscape twisted and desolate. Years of tragedy and conflict have left the land permanently scarred.

Scars that shall never fade. A physical manifestation of the horrors plaguing the warrior's physical and mental existence. Many of them were ruined or destroyed by him. The warrior has forever changed countless souls. At first, he could live with what he had done to those he had encountered. After all, it was in the name of honor, and as a warrior, recognition was all he desired.

Yet he was consumed with visions of his many battles. The dreams reminded him of the destruction he had caused. He had spent a lifetime fighting for honor. In his youth, he received a summons to fight for his people. Eager to make a name for himself and fulfill his duty to his people, he left without a second thought.

Over time, however, his honor crumbled. With each victory, he began to enjoy killing. From one battlefield to the next, he took life as easy as someone taking a breath. He is no longer the warrior of honor and pride he once was. Now the only thing he cared for was the feeling of taking the life of anyone he came across.

However, hours before he stumbled across the bridge before him, he had been scavenging for supplies in a village raided before he arrived. The warrior went from burned down house to another, hoping to find any food or water that wasn't contaminated. As he approached the last building of the village, he noticed some footprints in the ash that covered the walkway surrounding the building. The prints were small and likely that of a child. "If anyone is there, make yourself known!" he yelled.

A faint noise of debris shifting threw the warrior into anticipation. As he began to unsheathe his sword, a small boy appeared behind broken pots and hay bails. "Who else is with you, boy? Answer me!" he demanded. The child looked up at the warrior with eyes so bright and carefree that it startled him. "I am alone, sir. My family was killed in the last raid on our village." the boy muttered. Every being he came across up until this point had a look of fear and disgust when they laid eyes upon the warrior. The boy had sent a shockwave through him so strong he couldn't move a muscle. Words failed to form as he looked at the boy, still amazed that he showed no fear for the man.

Since he had fallen from grace, the warrior had been met with anger, fear, or disgust. After years of being perceived as a monster, he had simply given in to that and became what others said he was. At this moment, he had been reminded of the good in the world with no more than a simple look from this boy. He was a child without a family to protect him. Still, he couldn't let this child disrupt the mindset developed over many tragedies. Usually, he would kill the boy without thought, but for some reason, he felt he should leave the boy instead.

He looked at the boy again, taking in the positive energy of the child. After a few moments, the warrior sheathed his sword and began walking away from the village. He walked without knowing where his legs were taking him. While the warrior continued toward his destination, he was overcome with memories of his time away from home. How could he have fallen so far from honor? Why had this boy stopped him so suddenly? He had taken the life of a child before. In fact, he had taken countless lives, so why should it bother him now.

Numerous memories and thoughts flooded his mind as he ventured forth from the village. He had been away from home a lifetime, long enough to struggle to conjure the faces of his parents, siblings, and friends that he had left behind. How will I be received if I ever return home? With that thought, he suddenly realized that he couldn't remember how to find his home, no matter how much he wanted to. Shaking the idea of home from his mind, he began to think about the fate of the boy he had left behind. Why wasn't he afraid of me? I am covered in blood and filth, and I carry no goodwill toward others. Should I have brought the boy with me, or would it have been better to end his life to prevent the inevitable suffering he would endure?

Laden, with these intrusive thoughts for hours, the warrior managed to traverse the war-torn land, which brought him to the bridge he now finds himself standing helplessly before. Unsure of what to do or where he was, the warrior looked out across the vast expanse again. He could see the smoke of small fires rising from villages lining the river on the opposing side.

He could hear the roar of laughter and tranquility pouring out of the inhabitants. Suddenly his heart began to race as all that he had done finally sunk in. He hadn't known where he was, at least not at first. He had been gone for so long, and his mind was so broken from the war that he hadn't recognized the bridge leading to his village.

Realizing where he had ended up, the warrior was taken with staunch determination. Indeed he had fought long enough. He couldn't place how long he had been away, but it didn't matter to him. His body had brought him home despite his mind keeping him away.

However, his ability to cross the river was deterred for now. The bridge, likely damaged due to the war, had been left unattended. Vast portions of the bridge swayed violently. Boards were broken into groups all across the bridge. The rope had faded, and torn fibers peaked out amongst the woven bundles.

The river was a mighty river. It was as far across as one hundred men lying head to foot. The waters flowing through the river raced like a pack of wild beasts. Its depths were unknown as nobody could ever reach its riverbed. Why would he suddenly be brought home if the way across wasn't possible? He needed help to come up with a solution to his problem.

Eventually, he was overcome with anger at his predicament. Then wrath was replaced with regret, shame, and hopelessness. After all these years, he had finally come within eye and earshot of his home, yet the land around him denies him freedom and happiness. Defeated, he falls to his knees and looks up at the sky above. He clenches his fists and yells out to the heavens in protest. No reply can be heard from the gods, just the echo of his voice reverberating off the stone spires.

As the day and hope faded away, the warrior struggled to stand. Suddenly a hand touches his shoulder. Startled, he looks to his side, expecting to see an enemy ready to cleave the head from his neck. Instead, he sees the little boy standing by him, smiling brightly at the warrior. At that moment, he realizes that he will never return home and was never meant to. He recognized the gods had guided him here to see what he had once had before he left. At this moment, he saw that the gods had placed this young boy before him so that he could start over.