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The blood that stains my hands, try as I might; will never wash off



It is a source of horror, of pride, and relief, all at the same time



What I have done haunts my dreams,

The horror is the weight of the thousands I have killed,



The pride is the safety of my loved ones and my beloved home, and the relief and succor that I brought to so many.



The relief, of having not had to bring forth the full power of the destruction I was prepared to unleash, killer of cities, destroyer of worlds



I had once laid down my sword, and shortly thereafter they came, barbarians inside the wall, a gaping hole marking the end of the peace that was an illusion.



Things are worse now; these animals have fewer honors in them than any enemy we have faced before, no time to rest now and not an ounce of mercy in my heart



Now it is anguish as I train those who replace me on the wall.

Teaching them to manipulate the lightning, and contain the fire,



Trying desperately to impress upon them the weight of it, what will happen if we ever release the demons or if our enemy finds some of his own and turns them on us.



Those young hearts, not capable yet of understanding what they do,

What they may be called upon to do.



have you seen death my darling daughter?

Have you faced the evil my son?



I stand and wait as they go off, wondering if I have done enough, said enough, have they listened?



Wondering how many of them will return



When they do, I can see in their eyes that they do not comprehend the depth of the emotion as I grasp their hand or embrace them thumping their backs in welcome.



Well met, my Children……Thank you.