“Wait, Tavis!”

“Are you busy?”

“No. Do you need help?”

“Yes. You know… I want to talk about what I remember.”

“A good topic. Come on.”

⸻

We sat on the edge of a cloud.

Two souls from the world of men…

“Tavis, my friend… We understand so much now, yet I keep replaying that click… the clearing… the boy… my words. He reminds me of another boy. As if I had once been someone’s mentor before…

After the first war, I thought it was over. That I would never put combat boots on again. Never again look at people through the crosshairs of a rifle scope.

A difficult choice for a career officer.

I was trained well to do my job.

But no one told me what stood behind it.

That outstanding results usually meant destruction, chaos, and death.

And afterward…

You can’t sleep.

That smell of gunpowder and death…

Death has a smell.

A heavy, suffocating scent of dead flesh, entrails, sweat, and blood. Everything mixed together in such a horrifying proportion that you can neither accept it… nor ever forget it.

Then came a short time of peace.

You found an outlet shooting at targets at the range.

Passing your skills on to others.

And there was that boy…

Deprived of his parents’ attention.

The son of an old friend of mine from our cadet days.

Hot-headed.

Defiant.

Yet blessed with sharp eyes and an unwavering hand.

An exceptional marksman.

And at the same time…

Consumed by an irresistible need to prove his worth and superiority over every living thing.

He won prizes.

Basked in glory.

Then sat alone in the locker room, dreaming of killing.

And that phrase of his:

“We’ll see…”

That was his answer when I told him I wouldn’t let him become a cynical murderer.

That I would stay by his side.

Then he shot a pigeon at the shooting range.

The way he looked at me…

Even now, it sends a chill down my spine.

Some time later, he said he’d found a job.

Then he disappeared.

Peace didn’t last long.

War came again.

The uniform.

The combat boots.

The familiar weight of the gear.

The cold touch of blued steel.

Only this time…

Not across distant seas.

Here.

Where every trail was familiar.

Every clearing meant for family picnics.

⸻

We were great guys.

An unbeatable team.

But ten minutes after the first shot rang out from the ambush, our last fighter fell silent forever.

And there we were, watching our bodies scattered across the clearing as we drifted higher and higher.

Someone would take care of us.

They would carry us away.

Lay us to rest.

Perhaps with prayers and tears.

Or perhaps not.

It no longer mattered.

The men we had been were gone.

We stood before the Cloud Gates, calm and silent, preparing to meet whatever the new world would bring.

⸻

“Do you remember when you and Sariel came to meet us?”

“Of course.”

“You said, ‘Together we’ll begin a new watch. This time… over the souls of others.’

I looked down at the clearing.

You know…

I saw the first man who knelt beside my body.

And I decided to return to him.

Not to judge him.

I don’t know why, but I felt he needed a guardian.

I was drawn to him as though he were an old acquaintance.

I couldn’t explain it.

Do you understand?”

“And you know…

I’m very grateful everyone supported me.”

“Yes, Nevian. I remember.

And I also remember our conversation not long ago.

I asked whether you regretted letting him go.

Whether you doubted your decision.

And you said no.”

“Yes…

Exactly.

Back then, when he first saw me…

And himself…

In the mirror of that bar.

And, Tavis…

Not long ago I helped another child cope with the loss of his stuffed dog—his childhood friend.

We came to the clearing.

And then…

Something clicked.

It was the same clearing, Tavis.”

“Look!”

Tavis pointed down beneath the clouds.

There he was again.

The Shooter.

He was hurting again…

A gunshot…

“I’m going down!”

“Nevian!”