"I'll see you when this is all over."

A simple phrase, one I have said many times to many.

_____

When this first started for me, I was eager. Children like to grow up hearing stories of heroes saving the day, battling against terrible odds so that we may all see the next sunrise. I was no different. To be given the chance to be that hero, to be the storied figure that many would tell for generations spoke to my inner child. Those days roaming around the fields slaying imaginary monsters with a simple stick I had found lying somewhere around seems lifetimes ago now.

Training was not for the weak hearted. Every dawn I was to report to the arms master to train for every weapon could feasibly use in the foreseeable future. I trained in swords, spears, longbows, crossbows, shields, magic, even bare handed if you could believe it. For years this routine would dominate much of my younger life. I have sadly lost many childhood friendships during these years. the pressures of my destiny and the demands of my labor leaving me with little time. Still, I made new bonds with those I trained alongside with.

In the beginning was never alone. I was surrounded with like minded individuals, or those who I believed to be cut from purer cloth than I. We laughed, we cried, we complained, and we trained. We talked about who we once were, who we wanted to be, what we were proud of, and sometimes what we were ashamed of. It was like finding a new family to me. When our training was complete, we were blessed with long life.

Then the fated day, and many of us took up arms to defend against many dangers. Many of us had fallen in battle, each one dying an honorable death. We mourned, we grieved, and we moved on together. Then the next fated day arrived. The the next one. Then the next. I've lost count of how many 'fated days' there have been now, each one leaving us with less than the last.

With the end of each day, I found myself gazing at those we protected, and the pride in their eyes. I would see the eyes of the children and see the wonder in their eyes. To them, we were living legends. We were heroes. Even when the burden of being heroes grew heavy on us. those eyes would remind us of why we fought, and calm our doubts. We were heroes.

Sadly, time is merciless. Those children would grow up and have children of their own. Then the same would happen to those children and those children's children. Over time, I would see the wonder in the adults turn dull overtime. No longer did the people understand the weight of our sacred duty, no longer did the people understand our struggles. They no longer understood our purpose. Though few in number, I had began to look to my fellow heroes for support.

Eventually, I was the last hero. So many deserved to be standing here today, yet none will. I returned to find the people seeing my return with the eyes of complacency. They had relied on the heroes for so long, I wondered if they had lost the ability to face the dangers themselves. Was I all that stood between them and destruction? Was I the last hero?

A hero was to never falter, to stand firm as a defiant light against the encroaching darkness. A hero was to be the paragon of justice, the pillar of peace whose very name becomes synonymous with righteousness. Ideals meant for the ideal hero.

I had realized that, after all these years, I was not not the ideal hero.

_____

"I'll see you when this is all over."

A simple phrase, one I have said many times too many.