Warden

Years go by. You lose track. They disappear one by one, some as if they had never been. You lose connections and memories. Friends dear as life become passing thoughts. Then even those vanish and you’re left alone with only yourself and your dreams.

It is a lonely life, being stationed out here, at the edge of all things. The emptiness of That Which is Not will forever be my companion as long as I serve. I feel it drag on me. Some days are worse than others, for whatever meaning a “day” has out here. This is not one of the better ones. I gaze out out on the void and try to remember what I was.

There was joy and sorrow and everything between. There might even have been love, if there is such a thing. A name comes to mind then vanishes as quickly. My term here lasted longer than our knowledge of each other. Where had they gone to? Had I left them crying, or did they rejoice at my departure? Or did they not even think of me at all?

All I know for sure is that I chose to come here. The wardens of the great divide only accepted volunteers. That knowledge is all that keeps me attached, keeps me sane. It is my only identity. The Choice that I made that brought me here and took everything else away.

In my waning years, I will leave this place. I will take whatever respite I can before going the way of all mortal things. With all luck, my guardianship will be a placid one until then. It has been a great span of time since the last incursion.

May it stay that way.