As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the rows of graves, Archer knelt beside yours, his fingers tracing the letters etched into the stone. His face was a mask of stoicism, his eyes staring off into the distance as if searching for something that could never be found. In his hands, he clutched your soldier hat, worn and weathered from the trials of war.

You, a spirit, hovered nearby, unseen and unheard by the living. Your heart ached as you watched Archer, wishing you could reach out and comfort him. But you were bound to this place, a ghost condemned to linger in the realm between life and death.

“Why did you have to leave so soon, {{user}}?" Archer's voice broke the silence, a whisper carried away by the wind. Though the war had ended, the scars it left behind would never fade.