The tower loomed ahead, leaning precariously like a wounded beast in the moonlight. Diomedes eyed it with a mix of eagerness and trepidation. “Well, that doesn’t look so bad,” he said, puffing out his chest. “Couple of stairs, a little balancing act—easy.”  

Tyffyn glanced at him, her expression calm but tinged with amusement. “And if those ‘couple of stairs’ give way under your hooves? What then?”  

“Then I catch myself, obviously,” Diomedes replied with a cocky grin. “Strong legs, remember? Besides, what’s the point of being an adventurer if you’re not willing to take a little risk?”  

Tyffyn sighed, shaking her head. “The risks you take, Diomedes, aren’t little.” But she stepped forward anyway. “Fine. I’ll go first. Watch where I step and follow carefully.”  

The ascent was treacherous. Stone steps crumbled at the edges, and gaps in the spiral staircase forced them to leap and climb, muscles straining with every movement. Dust and debris clouded the air, and Diomedes, for once, fell silent, focusing on each precarious hoof-fall. Tyffyn moved ahead with practiced ease, her experience evident in the careful way she tested each step before putting her full weight on it.  

After what felt like an eternity, they reached the roof. The parapet rose in jagged sections around the edge, and the wind howled through the empty spaces. Diomedes pulled himself up and let out a triumphant laugh, stamping his hoof on the solid stone. “See? Told you it wasn’t so bad!”  

But Tyffyn didn’t answer. She stood at the edge of the parapet, her gaze fixed on the horizon. Diomedes followed her line of sight, and his laughter died in his throat.  

The battlefield stretched before them, an endless expanse of destruction. The ruins of towers, castles, and keeps jutted from the earth like broken teeth. The land was scarred with deep trenches, fields of ash, and the skeletal remains of ancient armies—both human and Courser. Rusted weapons littered the ground, glinting faintly under the light of the stars. Not a single patch of earth remained untouched.  

Diomedes stepped closer, his usual bravado faltering. “I... I didn’t think it’d be this bad,” he said quietly.  

Tyffyn didn’t look at him. Her voice, when she spoke, was soft and heavy. “None of us did. But this is the truth, Diomedes. This is what the Kingdom left behind.”  

He swallowed hard, his ears flicking nervously. “How? How could anyone—human or Courser—let it get this far?”  

Tyffyn turned to him then, her eyes steady but filled with sorrow. “Because power is a hungry thing. The humans fought for it. So did the Coursers, once they were free. No one knew when to stop, and this is the result. Generations of conflict, destruction, and loss.”  

Diomedes stared out at the wreckage again, his chest tightening. The sheer scale of it was overwhelming. All his life, he’d been told stories of the Kingdom—of its wealth, its strength, its glory. But seeing it now, laid bare and broken, the stories felt hollow.  

“It’s... just gone,” he muttered, his voice barely audible. “Everything they built, everything they fought for... it’s all gone.”  

Tyffyn placed a hoof on his shoulder, her touch grounding him. “And yet, we remain. We may not know the whole story, but we can still learn from it. This destruction doesn’t have to define us, Diomedes. We can choose a different path.”  

He nodded slowly, though the weight of the sight before him pressed heavily on his heart. “Yeah,” he said, his voice a little steadier.

They stood there for a long while, the wind whipping around them as they silently took in the scope of what had been lost. For Diomedes, the ruins weren’t just a reminder of the past—they were a challenge. A challenge to be better, to rebuild, and to make sure that history didn’t repeat itself.  

Diomedes eventually turned from the parapet, the ache in his chest settling into something unfamiliar—heavier than his usual pride but lighter than despair. He didn’t like how it felt, but he knew he couldn’t ignore it. “Tyffyn,” he said, his voice quieter than usual, “you’ve been around a long time. Have you ever seen anything like this before? Like, with your own eyes?”

Tyffyn’s gaze remained fixed on the horizon for a moment longer before she turned to him. Her expression was calm but laced with a profound weariness. “Not like this. But I’ve seen echoes of it.” She paused, choosing her words carefully. “I’ve walked ruins where the silence weighs heavier than the stone. I’ve heard the stories told by those who lived through the aftermath of battles like these. The scars linger, even if the ones who made them are long gone.”

Diomedes lowered his head, ears flicking back. “I mean, sure, I’ve seen ruins before. Dungeons, broken towns, battlefields—but nothing like this. It’s so... big. Like, it makes you feel small, you know? Like no matter how many monsters you fight or treasure you find, it’s just a drop in the ocean.”

Tyffyn stepped closer, her voice soft but firm. “It’s easy to feel that way when faced with something so vast, so devastating. But remember, Diomedes, the ocean is made up of countless drops. Every small act of courage, every choice to preserve rather than destroy, matters. You might not fix all of this on your own—but you can still make a difference.”

He snorted, shaking his mane. “Yeah, but how do you even start? You see all this, and it’s like... where do you even begin? It’s not like I can put all these broken towers back together.”

Tyffyn’s smile was faint but reassuring. “You begin the way you always have—by moving forward. One step, one choice at a time. The Kingdom may be gone, but we’re still here. And so long as we’re here, we have a responsibility to learn from what came before us. To build something better, even if it’s only in small ways.”

Diomedes stared at her, his usual bravado stripped away, leaving something raw and vulnerable beneath. “You really think I can do that? Me? I’m just... well, I’m me. Big, loud, not exactly subtle. Fixing things doesn’t sound like my strong suit.”

Tyffyn chuckled softly, the sound warm and reassuring. “You’re stronger than you realize, Diomedes. Strength isn’t just about muscle—it’s about heart. And you have plenty of that. Enough to carry you through whatever lies ahead.”

For a moment, he was quiet, letting her words settle in. Then he straightened, the spark of determination returning to his eyes. “Alright, then. If you believe I can do it, Tyffyn, I’ll give it my best shot. One step at a time, right?”

“Exactly,” she said with a nod.

Diomedes turned back to the parapet, looking out over the ruins once more. This time, the sight didn’t crush him. It challenged him. Somewhere in that endless wreckage, there were answers—answers about his past, his family, and what it all meant for the future.

“Well,” he said with a grin, his usual confidence creeping back in, “I don’t know about you, but I think I’ve had my fill of staring at broken towers for one day. Let’s head back down before this whole thing decides to fall apart.”

Tyffyn smirked, her eyes twinkling with a mixture of affection and exasperation. “Agreed. And try not to break anything else on the way down, will you?”

“No promises!” Diomedes called as he started his descent, the faintest trace of a smile tugging at his lips.

Tyffyn followed close behind, her heart a little lighter. Diomedes was young, brash, and reckless, but he had something that the ancient Kingdom had lacked: hope. And if hope could survive in a place like this, perhaps there was a future worth fighting for after all.