How can I do when I can’t even be?

The room seems colder tonight. Emptier, lonelier. I sit at the table, staring at some declaration I need to sign. A heavy sigh escapes me. I rub my eyes and bite my thumb’s nail. A terrible habit, I admit. The document is a statement of victory. Cronad’s triumph over Livone. But it does not feel that way. I reach for the quill and sign it hastily. I shake my head. None of this feels right. Too much blood has been spilled. Too much suffering. A creeping sadness suddenly overwhelms me, and exhaustion strikes. It is not even dark out yet. I still have a meeting with the royal guards. I could take a nap, but then I risk showing up to the meeting groggy and not clear-minded. No, a nap is out of the question.

So I do what I always do when I need something more- when I need something to sustain me to live another day. I read it. The ink has started to fade and is smudged in crucial areas but I do not really need the writing. I know it by heart. Perhaps, by soul.

He will arrive, golden, sparkling in the light of the fire of war. His power will be untainted. He will bring out truth in the souls. He is Aurum, the son of the god of light and truth. He will make evil’s heart pure. He will make the lost found. He will bring the two worlds together, in magic, in mind. He will pave the path for the new world.

* * *

Hope is a funny thing, isn’t it? It has a positive connotation, but it is truly the bane of human existence.