Every story begins with an adventure, not the legend of a hero or a villain and their deeds or a prophecy being made of an unborn child, sometimes; its a simple memory or a decision that anyone can make for everyday choices that unite or separate people every moment of every day.

Life is an adventure, one chosen every day through one simple decision, for most it's a simple decision: get up, live your life, that's it; for others it's more complicated. It's a struggle, a series of doors to open and overcome.

And death is a choice as well, oftentimes one we never see coming, but that arrives as a result of someones path. A cruel truth or a friend we all know, but that no one cares to remember; a pale faced but kind woman, that brings everyone to their bosom, regardless of who, what, or how they met her.

In the end however, The most quiet adventures are dreams, each a small story every soul uses to escape and then hope that they become reality, although few realise. The moment dreams become real; nightmares are sure to follow.

Book of the moon's exile.

Reflections of the adventurer

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Death. It Comes for me, death unrelenting and cold. I ran, I fought, I hoped, I gave up, and then I was broken. And now. Death comes.

His story began with one adventure, one small adventure, a simple child, normal, not smart nor wise. With a simple family he hated, a dog he loved, a future he feared.

" I can't believe how cold it is, guess movies were right in one thing…shame there aren't heroes around.''

He was alone, after falling from a high place into the snow, slowly fading away, someone else would have screamed, begged or cried and yet, nothing. Because the choice to keep going was more difficult and cruel than the option to rest. And now, the future is something that causes only fear, the past is something to forget and in the present.

''I m dying.''

The only things coming to his mind were questions, maybe he remembers everything wrong? Maybe he wasn't so different? Maybe after great effort and trying to change himself, Arthur could have been happier, but in the end, it doesn't matter, nothing matters.

''but I still have regrets.''

"At least the end it's… . Beautiful"Arthur thought"why is the night so beautiful…I never noticed."

So when the cold starts to creeps inside, he chose to simply let it go and meet the end. Slowly drifting away, hearing small bells, slightly rising from the snow and watching the moonlight. Gradually, the cold became light which became a whisper which became a dream and suddenly everything began to fall in darkness all around the world.

"Arthur" he whispered, that's my name, that's who i am, there are thousand's called arthur, but I am arthur, and there's no one like me and yet, I gave up.

''I'm tired.''

Curiously, he was not afraid, just lonely; always lonely. "I wonder" and a smile appeared again "hello'ere goody. Do' y'all have some heaven there…hahaha, crap. I deserve to enter heaven, change my mind. 4chan and reddit have destroyed me, I die and my last thought is what meme im going to tell god or gods or…godess? "Well, bad time to have doubts about god's sexuality, or doubt's in general"

So. Damn. Tired.

With the last gasp of air, he whispered into the night "Perhaps; I will fly. Finally fly, and travel the world. I just hope, to stand instead of just fail and just…fail.'' Barely audible, the words became a small fog.

If someone were to see his face before, they would see a face with a practiced long smile and playful eyes, that danced around as if afraid to stay quiet for long, glad to seethe sun every day. but in that moment, hidden in small amounts of snow drops was a face that showed only fatigue; there were no wrinkles, nor scars, just quiet pale eyes, adorned in the sides with tears of words left unsaid, and the ghost of a smile, just like the one people show when they pity.

The only thing that came to witness was death, without judging, without condemning, with a pale face, silent, with patience eternal.

And he died, but just in body, not in spirit…because his soul wanted to soar.

And everything ended.

And then, everything began.

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Run.

Most days that's the only thing in his mind, run away.

Run to safety, to a place where no one can harm anyone.

Run and hope.

''One day, one whole day where no one looked or talked to me, and now i realize, that this is the best damm day I have had in a while.''he whispered.

the problem with being invisible, lucan started to realize, is that if no one can see you, then no one cares about you.

So he ran, like he always did whenever something happened, towards a small lake in the distance, away from the city, a place of healing, or so the stories say, a place of old secrets.

"At least, that's what The old witch said…I think.''

Remembering her words with a sigh, "Paths are made and unmade in places such as that, and souls are broken and reforged, kings are born from blessings given in there, and old peacekeepers are driven to betrayal all thanks to the echo that travels through a spot like that."

She was always there, inviting and small, with the smile of an old grandmother, always waiting for something, always waiting and hoping and selling her wisdom for those with an ear to understand, and dreams to sell.

''If you want to find yourself, first you must go there, yae little girl.'' She said without looking at him, placing little vials in her stand in the most chaotic order possible.

He smiled a little at that, only she mocked him in a way that made him smile, especially because she never made fun of the reply.

''im not a girl.''

''No…what yae are is lost.''

That raised his eyebrows at least ''This is the city's main plaza, I have been here more times than you have.'' However lucan folded his arms and looked around as if to make sure he was right.

After repressing a sigh ''Then run along, I have work to do and yae shouldn't be here.'' Suddenly she fixed a look that broke no arguments and in her eyes he saw pity, sadness, and the future he feared.

And so he ran.

The forest was dark and silent near the castle town, and the small scenery in front of him was undisturbed until he arrived.

"What am I doing here, I don't need them, I don't need anyone, I am lucan Graves du lac", saying after glancing at the coat of arms in his chest and just then realizing there was dirt covering all his shirt. After suppressing a sigh, he tried to wipe the dirt stains but trying to clean the shirt with dirty hands didn't help, after all, no one receives a beating and just looks good when everything is over.

Then came a whisper "Perhaps it's true that I am a bastard."

A trespasser, not an adventurer nor a guest, a common child escaping from the world he knew, a small human who had more than most and yet, was feeling empty inside.

He knelt in the shore of the clearing; the water was very still in this part, and the air was very cold and heavy, small droplets of rain were starting to fall as if to say that the child was unwelcome and unwanted in the peace of the forest, but on the other side, maybe his turmoil was the exact thing this place needed.

Hungry and alone, wounded and cold he died, but not in body, just in spirit, because there are few things that kill the soul and innocence in a young child, the cruelty of family is one of them.

It was a quiet thing, dying, not in body but worse, in spirit. It began with a small tumble and then he was broken, the soul shattered and the last cord that made him a person broke. His generosity hides, his loyalty becomes a stranger, his laughter is lost, his kindness dies, and all the while death is standing there, with a white face, silent, with patience eternal.

And everything ended.

And then, everything began.

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