As I stepped out of ‘The Deadly One’ after a particularly grueling match, the cool evening air enveloped me like a shroud. The arena lights, still blazing bright, cast long shadows across the ground. In that moment, something caught my eye—a silhouette that seemed achingly familiar. My heart raced as I approached, wondering if it could truly be…
The closer I got, the more my doubts crept in. Flint couldn’t be here. He’s gone, taken from me over a century ago. Yet, the figure didn’t move or disappear. It stood there, silently watching me. I reached out a trembling hand, and just as my fingers were about to brush against its arm… it vanished into thin air.
I’m left standing here, questioning my own sanity. Was it just a trick of the light? Or did the shadows really whisper secrets of a love long past? The memory of Flint haunts me still, but this fleeting glimpse has awakened something within me—a glimmer of hope that perhaps our bond transcends even time itself.
