[G] 35 Years Ago

The porcelain of the teacup clinked cleanly as it was set down to its saucer by a distracted but precise hand. Erendil swallowed the strong, bitter drink slowly, savouring the herbal scents that coated his senses and relaxed his tense shoulders in a familiar way. He leaned back into his chair and closed his eyes, sighing, welcoming the warmth that slid down his chest and pooled in his stomach. College reports, neatly arranged in a folder, flopped heavily on his desk as he discarded them, not in any state of mind to grade anything, much less deciphering the chicken scratch scrawled haphazardly over unlined paper, something students dared to call handwriting.

That day marked the 35th anniversary of the Dark War. He opened his eyes and stared at nothing, his mind pulling him back to the first glimpse he had of Wall Freyja. He had never seen her in any state less than standing tall; the front gates obliterated, ominous wisps of unnaturally dark smoke emanating from the debris; villagers scattered on the ground, immobile, lifeless; the endless waves of bloodthirsty creatures and bandits, coming through the defenses like water through a broken dam. The red-tinted sky reflected off his pale eyes as he stared, the only audible sound his heartbeat that slowed down to almost a stop as dread - real, powerful dread - crept up on him, from the bottom of his spine up to his neck, his fingers cold and knuckles white on his staff. In a blinding rage, he mouthed - hissed - a spell and, just as blindingly, an infernal tornado of flames cleared a path in front of him. Decimation, annihilation.

Raw power.

Erendil opened his eyes - strange, he hadn't closed them, he recalled - and stood, the motion pushing his chair back, a smooth sliding sound, the legs tracing the tracks that were regularly carved into the polished floor for decades. He turned and gazed out the vast window of his office, his eyes tracing the silhouette of Wall Freyja against the orange sky as she lay defeated behind Valkyria, her sister, who stood strong with the promise of keeping the city safe, where Freyja had failed 35 years ago.

And his eyes shone with the fire of the setting sun as another day drew to an end.