The years passed.
Glory grew.
The world grew.
Peace blossomed.
Children were born who never knew what a battlefield smelled like.
Villages rose in places that had once been oceans of ash.
And everywhere, the story was the same:
Arin, the Hero of Light.
Arin, the Savior of Worlds.
Arin, the Slayer of the Abyss King.
Songs were written.
Murals painted.
Festivals declared.
Statues of Asura were smashed in marketplaces.
Children were taught to fear his name.
"Beware the Abyss.
Beware the Demon King."
Arin smiled for the crowds.
She lifted children onto her shoulders.
She blessed marriages.
She spoke at harvests.
And every night,
behind closed doors,
she broke.
She would sit alone,
at a small shrine she had built herself.
Hidden.
Unmarked.
Known only to her.
A place where a simple name was carved into stone.
No titles.
No crowns.
No curses.
Only the name:
Kai.
And there, under the silent stars,
she would kneel.
And whisper:
"I'm sorry.
They don't know.
They don't remember.
But I do.
I always will.
I promise.
Until my final breath.
I carry you.
I carry your dream.
I carry the boy the world forgot.
And I always will."
Tears would fall.
Not loudly.
Not wildly.
Soft.
Silent.
Sacred.
The world moved on.
The world forgot.
But she remembered.
And she carried the truth inside her heart.
Where no crown could touch it.
Where no lie could erase it.
Where dreams — real dreams — never die.