The Endless Mage

Year 3917 of the Almanac of Ages, in a remote rural region

We had decided to stop just before sunset. The sky was tinged with orange and purple, and the shadows of the trees stretched long. A gentle breeze carried the scent of damp earth. It had been a long day, but surprisingly pleasant. Talking about my old adventures, sharing them with someone after so long, had a strange, almost therapeutic effect on me. I was surprised to realize that, deep down, I didn’t mind having company. And judging by the calmer expression on Amelia’s face, neither did she.

At the beginning of the journey, she had remained silent, lost in her thoughts. Her eyes seemed to have absorbed the shadow of recent memories, and it wasn’t hard to understand why. No one returns to normalcy right away, not after being in the hands of those who have forgotten what mercy means. But as the hours passed, something in her began to ease. I noticed small signs: a hint of a smile, a lighter sigh when I spoke of my memories, and the way she followed my words with a less distant gaze.

She even began to ask questions. Nothing too personal, of course; but she inquired about herbs, talismans, and some spells I had mentioned during the stories. Just curious questions, almost distracted. Yet it was clear she was trying to distract herself.

Part of me was… happy. I had never been good at comforting people, and that wasn’t going to change now. But knowing that something I had said could lighten another person’s burden… well, it was a strange, almost pleasant feeling.

I lit a small fire while Amelia busied herself gathering some branches. She put in a fair amount of effort, even a clumsy determination. She wasn’t skilled, but she didn’t give up easily. There was strength in her, hidden beneath the fragility. The strength of someone seeking a solid ground to rebuild herself. And strong people who don’t yet know they are strong can become unpredictable.

We prepared something warm and simple for dinner, a meager meal to warm us as the sun set. The fire crackled softly, and a subtle calm descended upon us, like a blanket that momentarily eased our fatigue.

In that tranquility, something seemed to break; Amelia lifted her head and looked at the sky, where the sun had now hidden behind the mountains. "I never thought I would see another sunset," she whispered, her voice uncertain. Her arms hugged her knees to her chest, and her gaze lost itself in the flames. A tear slid down her cheek, transparent and soundless.

There was no need to say anything. No words could settle the score with pain. I had already dealt with the bandits and the danger, of course, but certain wounds don’t disappear so easily.

I simply shrugged. “Time does its work,” I said, without emphasis. “Maybe it doesn’t erase everything, but it smooths the edges. Sooner or later, even pain becomes more bearable.” It wasn’t a lie. It seemed rather a truth that had taken centuries to find its way.

The flames danced on her cheeks, illuminating the tears, and I watched her as her gaze wandered beyond the fire, into the darkness of the forest.

Don’t waste your worry on what’s lurking out there,” I muttered, more to myself than anyone listening. “If there’s one thing I know, it’s that I’m worse than anything hiding in the dark.

The tears continued to fall, but Amelia seemed a little calmer. My voice softened, almost unexpectedly: “You see, it’s not about being good or bad… the world always stays the same. It’s you who changes. In the end, you even get used to pain. Not because it’s easy. Just because you have no other choice.”

She didn’t respond right away, but nodded. There was in her gesture a note of conviction, or at least I hoped so. But I knew the truth was more complicated than it appeared. Time doesn’t heal anything; it simply helps you get used to living with what remains.

After a while, Amelia fell asleep near the fire, embracing the sword, holding it tightly as if, even in her sleep, she found a small comfort in it. Her breathing became slow and steady, her face finally relaxed.

I, of course, remained awake. I had no other choice. Sleep had not belonged to me for a long time. With my back against an old log, I felt its roughness through my clothes, a familiar and almost comforting sensation. Occasionally, I tossed a few twigs into the fire to keep it alive. The flames illuminated the clearing, casting long, unstable shadows around us. It was a clear night, and the stars shone bright in the sky, with no clouds to obscure them.

I adjusted myself against the log, and from time to time I cast a quick glance toward Amelia. Perhaps it was just a reflection, or maybe an instinct never entirely forgotten, but checking to ensure she was okay became almost a habit. It wasn’t really my job to worry about her, yet… something about her reminded me of what I had sworn to be long ago. Or perhaps it was just nostalgia, an echo of times when protecting others was my reason for living.

I let the cool air fill my lungs, feeling each breath as a faded memory. Nights were always the worst. In silence, there are no distractions, no voices or sounds capable of banishing the past, and I found myself face to face with myself. With everything I had done and everything I had left behind.

My thoughts wandered, drifting from the fire slowly consuming the dry branches to distant memories of a time when all this made a different kind of sense. I certainly didn’t expect a girl to bring me back in time, yet things always seem to be that way: the past has a curious way of making itself known.

I looked up at the sky, where the stars continued to shine, indifferent and distant. The forest around us was calm, as if the world itself were taking a momentary pause.

"Another night," I whispered to myself, more to remember than for company. And I stayed on watch, as always, while time flowed on without ever stopping. And as always, the voices that had long returned, Amelia was not the only one struggling with the past.