Purpose
The sky was turning orange as the sun prepared to sink behind the hills. We sat together under the old tree, our usual place to end the day. I was still drenched in sweat, my body tired from the long training. But my smile never faded—I was beginning to fall in love with every swing, every breath, and every ache that spread across my limbs.
Uncle let out a slow sigh. He looked weary, his eyes deeper than usual.
"Tomorrow's training... will be the last," he said suddenly, his tone heavy yet calm.
I turned to him, surprised. "Why? Is something wrong?"
He offered a faint smile, then turned his gaze toward the reddening sky. "These old bones are starting to ask for rest. I'm no longer the young man who could run for three days without sleep."
I chuckled softly. "But you still beat me without blinking."
"Hah. That's because you're still a scrawny kid," he said, then fell silent for a moment.
The evening breeze blew gently. The air grew quieter. Uncle looked up, as if searching the sky for something long lost.
"You know," he said quietly, "I once had a daughter. She was about your age back then. And her mother... the most stubborn and warm-hearted woman I've ever known."
I stayed silent, listening without interrupting.
"My village... was destroyed," he continued. "We were raided. Didn't even have time to raise a weapon. They were crushed under the ruins of our home. I ran—not to save myself, but to find help. But all I found... was a long, silent road. I tried to go back, but others stopped me. The village was gone. Burned to the ground. And now... I don't know if they're alive or not. All I have left... is endless regret."
He closed his eyes. His breath grew heavy. "I kept training, kept teaching, as if that could erase the pain. But every night, I still wait... hoping for a miracle."
I lowered my head, unsure of what to say.
"Forgive me, kid," he said after a pause. "Sometimes old wounds return without knocking."
"It's alright, Uncle," I said softly. "I'm glad you told me."
He looked at me, offering a small smile. "You're a living reminder that hope can grow from ruin."
Night fell. On the wooden bed in my little hut, I lay staring at the ceiling. My thoughts wandered to my sheep, surely hungry by now. I missed them. But my heart was also light—tomorrow would be the last day of training. After that, I could feed them again, clean their pen, hear their noisy yet soothing sounds.
Dawn crept in slowly. Morning light touched my face, waking me in silence. With renewed energy, I ran to the field. The last day. I wanted to give it my all.
But… the field was empty.
I turned toward the front gate, and there he stood. But not alone. Two village soldiers stood before him. They spoke seriously. Uncle's face… looked different. Tense, but resigned.
I stood still, waiting.
The conversation neared its end. Then, Uncle turned to me. His gaze was deep, as if trying to say something words couldn't carry.
"I feel the same way you do," he said quietly. "If I could go back, I would choose differently. If I were you, I would choose differently. Find the meaning in that choice. I believe… you'll understand."
I stepped forward, half hesitant. "What you mean, Uncle? That Inherintance should be mine, Uncle."
But he didn't answer. Just gave a faint smile, then turned and followed the two soldiers through the gate.
"Uncle?!" I shouted, panic rising.
I ran toward the gate. A village carriage was waiting, its horse snorting softly. Uncle climbed aboard and disappeared inside. Through the small window, only his back was visible. He didn't look back.
I stood frozen.
He... was gone.
Without a word. Without an explanation. Without a promise.
All I could do was watch the shadow of the carriage vanish into the morning, leaving behind a chill in the air and a heart full of unanswered questions.