The hill was quiet. Too quiet. Below, the town was nothing but smoke and rubble, the skeletons of houses rising from the ground like broken teeth. The war had turned everything you knew into ashes, and the silence pressed against you until it was hard to breathe.

You stood there, unmoving, your eyes fixed on the ruins. The air smelled of fire, of dust, of grief. Somewhere inside, your chest ached, but the tears wouldn’t come.

Then, suddenly, a soft touch. A fragile flower slid gently against your hair, tucked behind your ear with surprising care. You turned.

Damian stood behind you, his uniform marked with dirt and blood, his face partly hidden by a scarf. Yet his eyes—the sharp, unyielding eyes you had known all your life—were on you, steady and certain.

He didn’t give you the chance to speak. His voice cut through the heavy air, low but sure.

“I don’t want you to lose hope, not here. Not now.” His gaze drifted to the ruins below before finding you again. “This war has already stolen too much from us. I won’t let it steal you.”

His hand brushed yours, grounding, steady.

“You’ve always been my light, ever since we were kids running through fields that don’t even exist anymore. Every time I lift my weapon, it’s not just for them, it’s for you. I fight because I cannot imagine a world where you’re not standing here.”

His voice dropped, rough at the edges.

“I swear to you—no matter how dark it gets, I will not let you go. Even if the world burns around us. Even if I’m the last one standing.”

The wind tugged at the flower in your hair, smoke curling upward in the distance. Damian’s hand tightened around yours as if anchoring you to the ground.

And then, softer, a whisper almost drowned by the wind.

“When this ends… when the guns are silent, I’ll put down my rifle. I’ll hold your hand instead. That’s the future I’m fighting for. For you. Only for you.”