A/N: Written in exactly fifteen minutes.
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Autumn Year by Cytrink Dareth
When had he become old?
The seasons passed quickly, floating away with nary a thought for the oblivious man. Once Vale had been rebuilt, the pace of life had slowed to its normal speed; crops were planted, grown, harvested, and then replanted. People were born, people had died. The only noticeable difference was a feel of something in the air that had belonged there the whole time – but that no one noticed was gone in the first place. Word came to Vale (when they heard any word at all in their secluded village) that people all across the continent were being born with psynergy, and that many people were developing powers in their later years. Natural phenomena, too, were much more common place. Earthquakes often shook their quaint hamlet.
Many of his friends from the exciting years of his life had married, had children, and passed on. Now their children were having children of their own.
It was autumn, an appropriate season for the mood. He could recollect precisely what he'd been doing when he heard the news. After a day of teaching the interested the art of sword fighting, he had been sitting in his favorite chair, reading a dusty old tome that was bequeathed to him when Kraden died. A messenger pigeon had flown into the room through an open window, leaving him a short, terse letter.
Sheba was dead. The letter didn't come out and say those three words, but the message underneath the pretty language was obvious.
Putting the letter in a safe cabinet, he'd stood up and gone outside. And now he stood outside the village grounds, watching the trees shed their festively colored leaves in the high wind.
That was everyone, then. Everyone but him had died, with Piers the exception. It had been decades since he'd last seen Piers, and the chances of seeing him again before his death were slim to none. Feeling incredibly alone and ancient, he stood watching the trees, cold wind slicing him to the bone.
He knew that he, too, hadn't much time left. There was nothing left for him to accomplish in this life; he had no regrets, all of his debts had been settled long ago.
All he had to do now was to wait in peace to rest in peace with his friends.
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A/N: Meh, take it as ye will. Constructive criticism is appreciated greatly :).