The two hardest things to say in life; hello for the first time, and goodbye for the last - Jared Topalian

The end of everything wasn’t as loud as he had expected. It wasn’t the horrible cacophony of a stage being trashed; it was the dreadful, rumbling quiet that fell as thunder gathered in the distance. The held breath of a great tree bent too far in the wind, only just beginning to realize it wouldn’t stand up again this time.

“You need to go.”

He turned his head to see Armani sharpening his blades, fascinating himself with the grind of a stone on the edge so he didn’t have to look at the growing darkness on the horizon.

“I don’t think those can help now, Armani.”

A shrug.

“Would anything?”

“You need to come with us. There’s room for you.”

“No.” No hesitation. No weakness. Nothing but the blunt, quiet determination that had gripped him since the sky burned. “This is my home.”

“You can’t fight this. He’ll kill you.” Armani just shrugged again.

“He’ll try.”

“Even if you won, where would you go?”

“Nowhere.” Armani sounded tired, suddenly. But his hands didn’t falter. “No one is waiting for me. You have places to be.”

“Armani…”

“I’m…tired, kid. I came as far as this hill. I’m not going any further.” Armani didn’t look up from what he was doing. Maybe he couldn’t. “The road goes on. They’re waiting for you.”

“…Good luck.” It felt wrong, that there was nothing else to say but that.

“Careful how you go,” was the only reply.

When Armani was alone, he put aside the whetstone, stood up slowly to watch the disappearing horizon, and waited as the thunder grew around him.