He was just a boy. A purposeless soul with main goal of living and dying. Longing to find a destiny that would bring him happiness.

The mere sound of silenced screams long past crept within his soul. His heart blazed with anger and pain, but the poor boy chose to put it away, choosing a side worth traveling.

The crisp air whisked across his burnt and bruised face. This was not a Pyrrhic battle by any means. He had lost. Everything.

The silence and death of the world ingravescently eating away at his soul. It was an Iscariotic act from a man who had it all, but wanted more. Greed feeds the soul until there isn't a grasp of the ability to return to who you once were.

The coalesce of the order had died, along with his will to keep on following the path chosen before. He could have easily made it on his own, he was Lissom, Agile, Honorable.. but he was also Listless.

He sat there now, back pressed flat against the remains of a building. A once beautiful house, destroyed by war, like his home, his family, his friends. It was gone, there was no going back.

The Mystique skill he possessed, which was once used to help himself and others, endangered his very existence. A tired weapon rested upon his leg, letting memories seep through his veins. He shook as another lifeless gust of wind flew by.

The fake ossuary of a great fallen soldier on Kaller. The fault not being his nor theirs.

Only fear what you need not know. And there was a lot he didn't know. Didn't understand. Wanted answers to. Answers that would never be found.

Eyes fallen to the same weapon used not far behind. Held steadily in the poor boys hands. A tear fell onto his bloody coat. With a hesitant slice, the black braid fell.

And so did Caleb Dume.