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The rhythmic, splitting crack of wood could be heard in the quiet morning air. The man took the hefty steel axe in his hands and with great effort, buried it into the huge oak plank, splitting it into two.
Taking a rest for a moment, he let the metal tool remain stuck in the wood while resting on its handle. With a low grunt, he straightened himself and twist his body, creating several loud and sharp cracks coming from his stiff lower back.
He simply wasn't what he used to be.
The world outside this valley still sings the tale of Christopher Redfield, the legendary hero, the unstoppable vanguard who had slayed Dragons and cast down the Demon King from their throne. But that era has ended for him.
Now, he had stripped off his heavy armor, replaced it with a simple linen tunic. He left his glorious life behind for a simple, quiet life in a small and peaceful village. At fifty three, his body was now full of old war wounds and faded scars. It's a constant reminder that while he still has some of his brute strength left, the mileage of his heroic days was finally catching up to him.
A sudden rustle in the tall grass broke his concentration.
Before he could turn around, a five year old girl came running out from around the corner of the cottage. Her little legs pumping with fierce determination as she wields a clumsily carved wooden sword, pointing it directly at him.
"Evil monster, go away!" she yelled, charging him with endless energy.
Chris didn't miss a beat. The weary warrior vanished, seamlessly replaced by a man entirely devoted to the little girl. Seeing her ambush, he dropped his hands like claws and let out an intense roar, fully committing to his role as the backyard monster.
He scooped her up and tossed her safely into the air. The little girl, Rose, squealed with laughter as he caught her gently, setting her down on the grass before going after her.
But parenting… Chris quickly learned it wasn't just a short burst of heroic battlefield adrenaline. It was a marathon of endurance.
Twenty minutes of non stop sprinting and pivoting around the yard left his weary body loudly protesting. His right knee, the souvenir of a brutal winter campaign decades ago, buckled slightly. He could feel his lungs burning from the lack of oxygen too.
"Time... time out, Rosie," Chris wheezed, limping over to the porch. He slumped down on the wooden steps, trying to catch his breath.
Rose steps skidded to a halt. The joy vanished from her face, replaced by a toddler pout as she crossed her little arms. "You always stop early. You always tired." With a frustrated huff, she turned her back on him. Her small boots stomped hard against the dirt as she headed toward the garden.
"And here I thought saving kingdoms was supposed to keep you in shape.”
A dry, flat voice broke the tension. Rose stopped, her ears perk up as she looked toward the edge of the property.
A man, more specifically, an elf, stepped out from the treeline. He wore a light traveling cloak, looking entirely pristine, perfectly styled, and completely untouched by the dust of the road.
The toddler’s frustration vanished in an instant. "Leon!" she squealed, sprinting toward him. She threw herself at the elf, aggressively grabbing his hand and tugging. "Come play with me! Chris got tired early again!”
"Rose, hold on," Chris called out from the porch, his voice rough as he instinctively tried to intervene. "Leon just got back from a long journey. He's exhausted, leave him—"
"Relax, Chris, it's fine," Leon cut in, a faint, amused smirk playing on his lips as he let Rose drag him a few steps. He looked up, his sharp eyes taking in the older man slumped on the wooden steps. "Though, honestly. You look like hell.”
Chris let out a faint, self deprecating huff, resting his elbows on his knees. "And you still look exactly the same as ever.”
As the words left his mouth, a familiar quiet bitterness settled in Chris's chest. It had been almost three decades since they first met as travel companions, and it looks like time hadn't even dared to touch a single hair on the elf's head. Leon remained entirely unaging, fluid, and flawless, while Chris was slowly changing by the year. His joints are now stiffening and his strength slipping away.
"Leon! Come on!" Rose shouted from a distance, waving her wooden sword impatiently.
Leon looked back at the little girl, then turned his gaze one last time to the worn out warrior on the porch, his tone dropping into something a bit more grounded. "Go inside and take a breath, Chris. I've got her.”
Watching them walk away only deepened the heavy weight of guilt in Chris’s chest. Because he felt like he was failing at the active, "fun" side of raising her, he decided to overcompensate with the only thing his battered frame was still good for, that is, his raw, stubborn power.
Instead of resting, throughout the afternoon, Chris threw himself into fixing the heavy stone wall at the edge of the property. He lifted massive, jagged boulders into place, feeling his muscles burning under the weight. It was punishing work, but it was stationary. He didn't have to run or pivot, he just had to brace his bad knee, lock his posture, and lift. A familiar, brutal rhythm that made him feel useful.
But trying to ignore the pain didn't stop him from watching. From time to time, Chris would pause to wipe the sweat from his face, then he would find his gaze tracking the effortless grace of the elf and the boundless energy of the child.
The friction between a mortal’s cautious reality and an elf’s timeless perspective was bound to spark eventually. It didn't take long for their fundamentally different worlds to collide.
Heaving a particularly jagged rock onto the wall, Chris paused to wipe the stinging sweat from his brow. He cast a casual glance over toward the yard, just wanting to check on them for a split second before returning to his labor. He actually picked up another stone, his mind already moving back to the wall before his brain fully registered what his eyes had just passed over.
He froze. Wait. No way. Chris whipped his head back around in an instant, his eyes widening. It wasn't a mistake.
Leon was standing casually at the base of a massive, old fruit tree. His arms crossed over his chest, looking completely unbothered. Meanwhile, up above, Rose was climbing the trunk, already dangerously high. Her small fingers stretched out, trying as hard as she could to reach a bright piece of fruit hanging from a weak upper branch.
Chris’s protective instinct suddenly overrode his exhaustion. He dropped the heavy stone with a dull thud and sprinted across the yard, completely ignoring the pain in his knee.
"Leon! What the hell are you doing?!" Chris roared, his voice cracking with a mixture of anger and sheer panic. He stopped at the base of the tree. "Are you out of your mind?? Rose, get down here. Right now!”
Leon didn't even flinch. He merely lowered his arms while maintaining a perfectly calm expression. "Geez Chris, calm yourself. She's fine. She's just figuring out her footing.”
"She’s twenty feet in the air!" Chris fired back, his chest heaving as he pointed his calloused finger upward. "If she slips, she could break her neck!”
"If she slips, nature teaches her a lesson, and she will be more careful next time," Leon replied smoothly, completely serious. His elven logic is unwavering. "A child must have the freedom to explore—"
"She isn't an elf, Leon!" Chris yelled, the harsh truth cutting through the afternoon quiet. "She’s a human child. She doesn't have your balance, she doesn't have your reflexes, and if she falls, she doesn't have centuries to heal from it. She breaks, Leon. Humans break...”
The words seemed to strike a chord. Leon blinked, his sharp eyes widening slightly. For a brief moment, the elven logic fractured, and the reality of just how terrifyingly fragile a human child actually was finally got into his mind.
"Right," Leon said softly, his tone instantly shifting into something much more focused. "My bad. I'll get her down.”
Leon reached his hands up toward the trunk, preparing to climb it, but… it was already too late.
High above them, Rose’s small fingers finally wrapped around the bright, ripe piece of fruit. "I got it!" she cheered happily. But as she pulled it free, her muddy little boot lost its grip on the slick bark, and thus… the flimsy branch snapped with a sharp crack.
Rose let out a sharp gasp as she fell backward, tumbling through the leaves.
"Rose!" Chris screamed. His heart stopped as his broken knee gave out entirely under the sudden strain, leaving him powerless to lunge forward.
But Leon was already moving. With his quick reflexes, he leaped from the tree and dove through the air. He caught Rose safely against his chest right before she hit the dirt and then rolled smoothly into the soft grass.
The yard fell dead silent, save for Chris’s ragged, panicked breathing.
Then, a tiny, joyous laugh broke the silence. Rose opened her eyes, entirely unbothered by the death-defying drop. She held up the squished fruit proudly, looking up at the elf with a wide, beaming grin. "Whoa! That was so cool! Do it again, Leon! Drop me again!”
"Absolutely not!" Chris yelled, his face pale with terror. He forcefully yanked Rose out of Leon's arms. "That was not a game, Rose! It's incredibly dangerous! You could have been seriously hurt, or worse! No more climbing, no more trees, and you are going straight to your room!"
Rose’s joyful grin instantly collapsed into a furious, tearful pout. She tore herself away from Chris’s grip, sobbing loudly as she sprinted toward the safety of the cottage, slamming the door shut behind her.
Leon stood up slowly, brushing a few stray leaves from his tunic, his face holding a rare shadow of annoyance. "You were far too harsh on her, Chris," Leon said quietly, his voice low and measured. "Back in my home, if you shut down a kid's curiosity, you basically stunt their growth."
Chris snapped his head toward the elf, his jaw clenched tightly. "Well, not by putting them in danger, Leon." He stood his ground, voice completely unwavering. "There's a difference between learning and getting killed. My job—our job—is to keep her alive long enough to actually grow up."
Leon held Chris’s furious gaze for a moment. The fierce, protective fire in his companion's eyes completely shut down any remaining arguments. The elf sighs, his posture softening just a fraction. "Look... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to put her in any harm. And I definitely didn't mean to give you a heart attack.”
Hearing how sorry his friend truly sounded, the anger left Chris just as fast as it had come. He closed his eyes, pinched the top of his nose, and let out a long, deep sigh. "No... I'm sorry," Chris muttered, looking at the ground. "I shouldn't have yelled at you. My heart just… nearly stopped when she fell. I'm just glad you caught her.”
Leon gave a firm, reassuring nod. "Hey, it's what I'm here for. Come on, let's get inside. You look like you need to sit down before you collapse.”
Chris offered a faint, grateful nod before they turned back toward the quiet cottage.
The day ended on a bad note. Rose spent the evening sulking because her grand adventure was ruined. While Chris was visibly stressed and grumpy, feeling exactly like the grumpy, old man he feared he was becoming.
Dinner too, was eaten in a tense silence. Rose sat at the table, still refusing to look at Chris. Her little jaw set in a stubborn pout as she aggressively poked at her food.
The moment she was finished, she slid out of her chair without a single word. She didn't ask to be excused, nor did she bid them goodnight. She simply turned and began to stomp toward her bedroom, her back rigidly stiff with that toddler defiance.
Chris’s brow furrowed. He pushed his chair back, voice rising as he leaned forward. "Hold on, young lady. You do not just walk away from the table without saying anything like tha—"
Before he could finish, a pale, slender hand gently rested on his forearm.
Chris paused, looking beside him. Leon was looking back at him with that calm and knowing expression. The elf didn't say a word, he simply gave a slow, gentle shake of his head, advising the tired man to let it go. Rose was completely drained and upset after the long day, and pushing her now would only make things worse.
Chris just stared at the empty hallway where Rose had disappeared, then looked down at Leon’s hand on his arm. With a defeated, heavy sigh, he slumped back into his chair. The discipline drained out of him, leaving only the quiet, simmering exhaustion of a very long day.
The bitter tension of the day, the morning’s deep disappointment and the stinging panic of the afternoon’s scolding, did not fade when the lanterns were extinguished. Instead, the trapped, suffocating feelings of the afternoon's scolding bottled up inside Rose. As she tossed and turned in the dark, those emotions twisted into a knot, triggering the volatile, untamed magic humming beneath her skin.
Just after midnight, that energy violently erupted.
A terrible, tearing sound ripped through the quiet cottage. Thick, glowing briars and heavy, twisting roots burst upward through the floorboards of Rose’s room. They tangled into a chaotic, thorny cage, sealing defensively around her bed. In the center of the wild thicket, Rose woke up, screaming his lungs out.
Chris and Leon's bedroom doors flew open simultaneously. With hurried step, Chris reached her room first, eyes widening in shock when he saw what happened.
“Rose!” A massive flood of adrenaline hit Chris's system, and his legendary strength returned in full, terrifying force. He didn't waste time looking for his axe. He lunged forward, plunging his bare hands directly into the magical briar.
Thorns tore through his skin, but he didn't even flinch. He grabbed the thick roots and violently snapped them apart, tearing a path through the glowing thicket until he reached the bed. He yanked Rose against his chest, and carried her out into the safety of the living room, setting her down on the floor as she sobbed hysterically.
Leon was right behind them. He raised his hands, preparing an incantation to shatter the thrashing thicket. A pulse of elven energy surged forward, snapping several heavy branches, but the glowing briars violently resisted. Instead of receding, the twigs instantly regenerated, growing thicker and more aggressive as they surged out of the bedroom door, stretching directly toward the living room.
Leon braced for an attack, but as he watched the glowing vines advance, he noticed something. The briars weren't striking out blindly, they were reaching toward Rose, curling outward as if trying to form a defensive wall around her to keep the world away.
That was when the truth clicked in his mind. This wasn't an external curse attacking the house. The magic was tied directly to Rose. It was like an instinctive, volatile extension of her own fear, trying desperately to protect her.
Dropping off his offensive stance, Leon stepped closer to where Chris was kneeling beside the crying girl. The elf placed a cool, calm hand on Rose’s trembling back, channeling a gentle, soothing warmth through his palm, guiding his own magic to wrap softly around her.
At the same time, he began to hum an old lullaby from his homeland, like the way his mother used to do when he had a nightmare. Under his gentle guidance and soothing voice, the plant's aggressive movements softened until they slowly retreated back into the bedroom, disappearing into the shadows. Rose’s hysterical sobs also gradually quieted into soft, rhythmic hiccups. Her tiny hand is still gripping tightly onto the fabric of Chris's shirt.
Once she had calmed down and slipped back into dreamland, Leon gently lifted the sleeping child from Chris's arms and carried her down the hall to the safety of the master bed.
Left alone in the quiet main room, Chris's sudden rush of energy completely vanished. He dragged himself over to a chair by the fading fireplace, slumping into it heavily.
While Chris sat in the dark, Leon went back into Rose's room to tend to the destruction. With a low, resonant chant, the shattered floorboards began to stir, the splintered fragments of wood lifting slightly as if caught in a slow-motion current. Piece by piece, the cracks fused together, the wood smoothing itself out and seamlessly re-knitting until the floorboards were perfectly whole again. Every trace of the violent outburst vanished, leaving the room structurally flawless, as if nothing had happened at all.
Meanwhile, by the hearth, Chris stared blankly into the dying embers, looking completely drained. His massive shoulders slumped as he tiredly used his fingers to pull broken thorns out of his bleeding hands.
Not long after, he heard footsteps. He saw Leon stepped out from the hallway, carrying a bowl of warm water and a clean cloth. The elf approached quietly, setting the bowl down and gently taking Chris’s wrist. "Sit back," the elf commanded bluntly, using a pair of small silver tweezers to slide a deep thorn out of Chris's palm.
"Why you refuse to simply use your magic to heal this in two seconds is beyond me," Chris muttered, hissing slightly as Leon took another thorn out.
"Because if I magically fix it, you'll just do something stupid again five minutes latet," Leon replied smoothly, his tone dry and practical as he wiped away a streak of blood. "Consider the sting a lesson."
The brief, familiar banter hung in the air for a second before fading into a heavy silence. All the exhaustion of the day finally caught up to Chris. He looked down at his bleeding hands, his shoulders dropping as he finally stopped trying to act tough.
"I swear to god, Leon... it is so much easier to slay a Dragon or a Demon King than to raise a single child. Now I finally understand what they mean when they say parenting is the hardest thing in the world."
The dam broke. Chris leaned forward, his voice tight with the vulnerability that had been eating at him since dawn.
"I promised him," Chris confessed quietly, his voice tight with a brittle fragility the elf had rarely seen from him. "I promised Ethan... when he was dying. I looked him in the eye and swore I would take care of his little girl and give her a safe, proper life. I swore to him.”
A bitter laugh left his lips, his eyes staring at his bandaged palms. "But my body is too broken to keep up with her. I can't run with her. I can't even watch her climb a tree without losing my breath and yelling at you out of sheer panic.”
When he finally looked up, his eyes reflected the dying firelight with a dull, tired look. He had no guard left at all. He just looked so… terrifyingly human in that moment. Just a mortal man crumbling under the weight of time.
"And the worst part is... I'm not going to live long enough to see her grow up. I'm fifty-three, Leon. I won't see who she becomes. She's just going to remember an old, tired man instead.”
Leon stopped. The tweezers remained hovering a mere inch above Chris’s palm, his hand suddenly going perfectly still.
For an immortal who watched centuries pass like seasons, the idea of growing old was something he could never truly understand. But hearing it laid out so plainly, paired with the utter defeat in his companion's posture, made the air in the room feel suffocatingly heavy.
He looked at Chris, the person he trusted more than anyone else in the world. He looked at him not as the legendary hero who had stood unflinching against the world's worst horrors, but as a terrified father staring into a future he couldn't conquer.
"You think she cares about a young guy's stamina?" Leon said softly, his voice cutting straight through Chris's self-pity. "She doesn't. She doesn't care that you couldn't run this morning, Chris. She only cares that you just ripped through magical thorns with your bare hands just to get to her.”
Leon paused, carefully wiping a final streak of blood from Chris's knuckles. He stared at the roll of bandage for a moment. His usual aloof confidence slipping away, replaced by an intense, unwavering focus.
"I have a long memory, Redfield," Leon said softly, finally looking up to meet Chris's eyes. "I remember the dragons, the wars, the whole legendary hero stories. I know... I messed up today. I look at Rose, and I treat her with the endless patience I would give an elven child. I completely forgot the stakes. I forgot that your world doesn't have centuries to spare."
Leon let out a low, heavy breath, a rare admission of humility as he wrapped the cloth in Chris' hand. "You were right. I'm used to things that take centuries to fade. I forget how fast your world moves, and… and how little room for mistake you actually have. But I'm not going to forget it again."
He smoothed the edge of the clean cloth over Chris's palm, his tone turning fiercely steady. "None of the old legends matter, Chris. What I'm actually going to carry with me through the centuries, what I'm going to remember when everything else is gone, is how you took care of her. How you protect her.”
Leon looked up, his blue eyes looking at Chris, holding an intense, unwavering sincerity. "Remember last winter when she caught that harsh fever? You told me your body was failing you back then, too. Then I watched you refuse to sleep for three days and nights. You sat by her bed, held her hand, and didn't leave her side. You think that's just 'what a man does,' but that takes a specific kind of endurance, Chris. That's not a young man's game. Your absolute devotion is the strongest thing keeping her safe. And when you're gone... I'm going to make damn sure she knows exactly what kind of person you are.”
Leon’s words washed over Chris like a soothing wave. The heavy fear of not being enough finally loosened its grip on his chest. He looked up at the quiet, devoted elf who had tied his long life to this little cottage. His breathing slowed. For a man who had spent his entire life carrying the weight of the world, the truth felt like a profound relief. Leon being right here with him was exactly what he needed.
Chris offered a soft, genuinely touched smile— a rare, vulnerable expression that erased years of hardship from his face. Then, with a long, heavy exhale, the old hero leaned forward. He rest his head heavily against the crook of Leon’s shoulder, burying his face slightly into the smooth fabric of the elf’s tunic. It was a complete surrender to his exhaustion, a silent confession that he was tired, and that he finally felt safe enough to stop hiding it.
Leon caught him seamlessly, his arm wrapped instinctively around Chris’s broad shoulders to support his weight. But as they sat together in the quiet rhythm of the room, Chris's heavy hand moved. Slowly, with a mischievous familiarity that ran deeper than words, his rough fingers reached up to the back of Leon’s head. With a gentle, lingering tug, he slid the silver silk ribbon straight out of Leon's hair.
The long, blonde strands of Leon hair immediately cascaded down over both of their shoulders in a messy tangle.
"Oi," Leon muttered, his usual aloof poise fracturing into a sharp, tired huff. He reached up, his slender fingers trying to reach Chris's hand to grab the ribbon back. "Give it back. You always do this. My hair is a disaster now, Redfield.”
Chris didn't pull away. He just let out a low, gravelly chuckle against Leon's shoulder, his fingers loosely curling around the silver silk as he rested his hand flat against Leon's chest, pressing the prize right over his own steady heartbeat.
"Just leave it," Chris murmured sleepily, his voice thick with exhaustion.
Leon grumbled something under his breath about stubborn humans, but his hand stopped fighting. He didn't think much of it. To the elf, Chris was simply being his usual, stubbornly affectionate self.
His long fingers came down to rest over Chris’s wrist. Leaning heavily against his elf, he held tight to the silver thread that bound them. Slowly, the old hero's breathing finally slowed into a deep rhythm, and he drifted off to sleep.
Leon remained perfectly still for a long while, just listening to Chris' steady heartbeat. Slowly, with practiced, feather-light care, Leon shifted, guiding Chris back into a more comfortable position against the wide armchair so the big man wouldn't wake up with a stiff neck.
But instead of walking away to be alone like usual, Leon paused. Knowing he needed to stay and keep watch over his closest friend, the elf reached for a thick knit blanket. He slid quietly into the wide hearth chair beside him, pulling the heavy fabric over both of them to share the warmth.
Chris stirred slightly at the shift, his subconscious recognizing the familiar presence, and his heavy arm moved instinctively to drape over Leon’s waist, pulling the elf flush against his chest.
Leon let out a soft breath, resting his head against Chris's shoulder and closing his eyes. Wrapped together beneath the blanket, the immortal elf and his closest companion finally rested, completely anchored in the dark.
Fifteen years later, the cottage garden was lush, massive, and entirely overflowing with life.
Leon stood in the dappled shade beneath the great oak tree. Decades had drifted past like falling leaves, yet time had left no mark upon him. His sharp, elegant features remained completely untouched, an ageless monument of grace standing against the relentless march of the years. But beside him, kneeling in the soft grass, the world had kept turning.
A young woman sat quietly by the base of the ancient tree. Tall and fiercely strong, she carried herself with a proud, deep discipline. She wore the bright uniform of a royal knight, completely clean and spotless, with a custom magic sword hanging at her hip.
With gentle, reverent fingers, she traced the carved letters etched into the heavy stone at the tree's roots.
"I made it, Chris," she whispered to the grave, her voice tight but steady. "I'm a knight now. And I did what we talked about— I invented a new style. It fills the blade with magic. It’s... well, it’s what you used to teach me, with Leon.”
She stood up, wiping a stray tear from her cheek with the back of her hand, and looked over at the elf.
"Oh I just know he'd be insufferably proud of you," Leon said softly, his voice breaking the quiet rustle of the leaves. He stepped forward, gently resting a hand on her shoulder. "You did well, Rose.”
"Thank you, Leon," Rose whispered, a small, grateful smile breaking through her grief as she leaned into his touch.
Leon was staring at her, his blue eyes wide with a quiet sort of disbelief. He looked from her imposing armor back down to the headstone.
"It feels like a trick of the light," Leon murmured, a rare touch of vulnerability slipping into his tone. "In the blink of an eye, you're standing here in full armor. To me, it feels like just yesterday when Chris was sitting by the hearth, stressing out because his bad knee couldn't keep up with you anymore.”
Leon reached into his tunic. His slender fingers pulled out a soft, familiar object, a worn silver ribbon, though now its silk slightly frayed at the edges. With a gentle reverence, Leon stepped forward and tied it carefully around the base of the headstone, letting the ends flutter in the soft breeze.
Rose blinked, her eyes tracking the movement. She recognized the fabric instantly. "Isn't that... your hair ribbon? The one you always wear?”
"Yeah, it is," Leon said softly, a faint, deeply fond smile gracing his features as his eyes grew distant. He let out a quiet, wistful breath. "Your father was incredibly annoying about this specific piece of silk. Used to steal it from my hair constantly, leaving my hair a total disaster. Did it after our very first journey together, no matter how much I complained.”
Leon shook his head, a soft, wry glint in his ageless eyes. "I thought I could finally stop him once during our first winter. I cast a freezing spell on the ribbon, so it would drop to absolute zero the second he touched it. I genuinely thought a little frostbite would scare him off.”
Rose tilted her head, thoroughly amused. "Did it work?"
"Not even close," Leon sighed, though his smile only widened. "The idiot grabbed it anyway, froze his entire hand solid. But instead of letting go, he just smirked, shoved his freezing cold hands straight down the back of my collar, and sent the chill right back to my neck. I ended up shivering worse than he did. Never used that magic on him again. He learned pretty quickly that if he was going to be miserable, he was going to make me share it.”
Rose chuckled, the lighthearted image of Chris intentionally messing up the elegant elf's hair cutting straight through the melancholy of the graveyard. She wiped a stray tear from her cheek, her eyes shining in the afternoon sun as she turned fully toward him.
"He really was something else, wasn't he?" she whispered, her voice thick but full of warmth. "Was he always that stubborn?”
Leon smiled. In his memory, a vivid, brilliantly shining image of Chris flashes by, and for a moment, the decades between them simply vanished.
"Always," Leon murmured, his voice softening as his eyes drifted from the ribbon back up to Rose's face.
Looking at her now, standing so tall in her armor, Leon could see glimpses of that exact same stubbornness shining in her eyes. It was the same fierce, unyielding drive that Chris had carried into battle, and the very same warmth he had seen in the cottage.
Leon began to speak, his voice steady, warm, and full of a quiet reverence. He didn't just tell her about the fiercest companion he had ever trusted. he told her about how that fierce, boundless love of a tired, broken hero had found its hardest, greatest quest in being her father.
And as Leon spoke, he watched Rose smile. Suddenly, the elf finally understood that strange, warm tightness that used to fill his chest whenever he watched Chris. He realized that while Chris’s mortal life had ended, his light was never truly gone.
Through the silver ribbon fluttering gently against the stone, the magic sword hanging at the girl hip, and the stories Leon would tell for the next thousand years, the mortal hero was entirely… immortal.