Endsong

Within the unforgivingly cold and snow filled forest there roams a presence that we call ‘the wanderer’. The wanderer walks the forest plains while filling every corner of it with the muffled sound of a giant rust covered longblade being dragged right behind them through the layers of thick pillowed snow. The wanderer traverses in a slow and irregular pace causing for enough snowfall to gather on their tattered cloak and their trusty blade, falling off again with each step they take. Over time, the wanderer has forgotten who they are and what brought them here, only being driven by an indescribable feeling from deep within to hum a tune that’s urging them to keep on wandering, often to the point of exhaustion. Just like their own past, the wanderer does not know where this tune came from or how they know it, but it’s the only thing that offers them some way of comfort during their long and endless journey. When occasionally looking back, the wanderer sees each of their tracks being thoroughly covered up by the heavy snowfall. Suddenly the sound of a loud bell fills the air and the wanderer looks up. Far in the distance between what looks like a group of pine trees, a tiny source of light is being ignited. The wanderer feels their body being attracted to the light immediately and sets course straight towards it. The moment the wanderer sets foot into their new direction, the snow stops falling. Instead the wanderer notices tiny plows of snow rising back into the air. First a few, then quickly all around them snow starts to rise, fly back up into the clouds and vanish like it never existed. While dragging the rusty longblade forward, the wanderer notices that the snow has now made place for roads filled with mud and pebbles. Between the mud and pebbles they notice small glowing rocks that are looking different than others surrounding them, all spread out equally on the roads that were once covered with snow. The wanderer feels attracted to them somehow but does not know what they are meant for and to whom they once belonged. The only thing the wanderer notices is that the glowing rocks seem to form a path going in the direction of the light source. The peaceful and quiet sound of their longblade gliding through the snow has now made place for the industrial sound of metal grinding against rocks and pebbles causing for tiny sparks to fly off the giant longblade. Dirt and mud gathers around the wanderer’s blade and feet. The journey gets more tiresome by the minute, but they see the source of light coming closer each step they take. The wanderer continues humming the unknown tune to lighten the mood and boost their morale, still not remembering how they know this tune and which note is next in line. The humming combined with them exhaustedly panting makes for a beautiful swansong. The light source starts to take shape, and the wanderer sees that it’s a brightly burning campfire. The campfire seems to lure them closer, but each step the wanderer takes starts to feel heavier and heavier, like they’re about to collapse. Like a blessing from the skies, the sound of the loud bell fills the air again, and snow starts to fall immediately. The glowing rocks, dirt and other lost artifacts get buried beneath the snow, and the rusty dirt-covered longblade stops screeching and starts gliding again. They continue to roam dedicatedly in between the snow covered pine trees and shelters made from branches while the campfire starts getting closer and closer. They feel the warmth of the campfire touching their frozen, bandaged and blister filled hands more and more each step they take. The wanderer finally reaches their destination but just when they can almost touch the campfire with the tip of their longblade, the fire goes out like a door being loudly shut in front of their face leaving them alone in a dark cold forest surrounded by pine trees and continuous snowfall. They kneel down and a tear streams down their face, freezing in place right on their cheek. This sobbing which fills the forest air is suddenly being accompanied by the soothing melody of flowing water. The wanderer looks around and tries to locate where it's coming from. Carefully traversing in between a few of the surrounding pine trees, this soothing sound quickly starts to get louder and louder, first merging with and then overtaking the natural white noise of the forest that they’ve been exploring for what feels like ages. After a few more tiresome steps, they locate the source of sound to be coming from a nearby stream. The melody of this stream is luring the wanderer towards the snowy edge of it, and they decide to kneel down and look into the water, trying to get closer to the soothing tune. When looking in the water, they see a shape that vaguely resembles themselves but something seems off. The wanderer can’t quite recognize themselves and thus decided to take a closer look. When the flowing water almost touches their frozen nose, the unrecognizable silhouette their hands reach out of the water, grabs the wanderer’s head and drags them down into the stream. When the wanderer opens their eyes, they notice that they’re floating at the bottom of the stream, but there doesn’t seem to be any water and the melody is gone too, there’s just air and silence. Confused and in panic, the wanderer looks around and notices a tiny orb slowly hovering within the vast nothingness. Inside of the orb, they see the spirit of their own reflection. After a moment, the spirit of the wanderer becomes autonomous and starts to crawl out of the orb. When floating face to face with their other half, the spirit reaches towards the tear on the wanderer's cheek, still frozen in place, and picks it up. The spirit pulls back, looks at the tear in their hand, closes it and holds it against their chest. The tear almost seems to dissolve within the spirit. Immediately the wanderer is greeted by the sight of the spirit being surrounded and held by others, all of which are strangers to the wanderer. The sight comforts the wanderer, but it’s not for long that each of the surrounding silhouettes start to vanish one after another. The wanderer starts to panic and refuses to witness the downfall of what seems to have been but forgotten. When they try to float back up towards the surface of the stream, their body seems to be pulled down by spirit-like hands grabbing their legs and feet. The wanderer nervously starts humming the comforting tune while they keep on wriggling and pulling, witnessing every silhouette to slowly vanish around the spirit in front of them. Just when the last of the silhouettes is about to vanish, the wanderer closes their eyes, starts humming louder and gives one last pull. The hands grabbing their feet suddenly let go, and the wanderer almost launches towards the surface and out of the stream back onto the layers of snow right next to their longblade. With all their might, they keep their eyes closed, continue humming, and envision the sight of the last silhouette hugging the spirit while tears stream down their face. The loud bell rings again in the distance, they feel the snow rising up again all around their body and the fire that went out is suddenly being lit again. With the sight of the silhouette and themself still fresh in their mind, and the comfortable campfire burning in the distance, the exhausted wanderer falls asleep while the last tune of their song leaves their mouth. A wanderer wakes up in the middle of a desolate and snow capped forest by the sound of a loud bell in the distance. Next to them lies a giant shiny longblade and a bag full of tools and artifacts. Next to the bag lies a musical sheet with scribbled notes on it, above the notes the sheet is titled ‘endsong’. The wanderer picks up the sheet, looks at it for a moment, smiles and starts humming the notes. Snow starts to fall from the sky, and the wanderer decides to look for shelter. They put the musical sheet in their bag, dust themself off, and start wandering while dragging the longblade behind them. —Mitchel Peters