"I remember things," Fushi said softly, a sad smile touching his lips. "And as long as I remember them, they never truly leave."
"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice sounding like an echo from a distant time. "I remember things," Fushi said softly, a sad
In this era, the modern world hummed with electricity and the cold glow of neon signs. People hurried past him, their lives flickering like brief candles compared to his eternal flame. He sat on a park bench, his eyes reflecting the city lights, feeling the weight of every person he had ever been—the wolf, the little girl, the old man, the warrior. People hurried past him, their lives flickering like
As she ran back to her mother, Fushi looked up at the moon. The Nokkers—the soul-stealing shadows of his past—were quiet for now, but he knew they were never truly gone. He stood up, his cloak fluttering in a wind only he could feel. He was the Immortal, the observer of all things, destined to walk until the end of time, carrying the hearts of the fallen within his own. He stepped into the crowd
Suddenly, a young girl tripped near him, dropping her ice cream. Without thinking, Fushi reached out. His hand didn't just steady her; for a brief second, his skin glowed with a faint, ethereal light.
He stepped into the crowd, his form shimmering as he shifted into the likeness of a traveler, ready to see what the next century would teach him about the pain and beauty of being alive.