The Final Destination
Aeldrin’s breath came in ragged gasps, each exhale a reminder of the torment that had become his existence. His body, once human, was now a grotesque reflection of something neither alive nor dead. Towering over the land, his limbs thick and heavy, his skin a dark, cracked stone, he wandered the desolate world. He had been created for one purpose: to bring about the end. And yet, in the depths of his soul, there remained a whisper of who he had once been, a man with dreams, with love, with a life.
It had been centuries since he had been Aeldrin the Warrior, a hero known for his bravery and strength. Now, he was a beast. And every step he took, every town he destroyed, reminded him that he could never escape his fate.
Once, he had stood tall among men, a figure of hope in a kingdom ravaged by war. His people had called on him when the darkness threatened to overrun them. And he had answered, driven by the desire to protect, to preserve the light. But in his desperation, he had made a pact—a deal with something ancient, a force beyond the understanding of mere mortals. The price had been high, but it had seemed worth it then. Power beyond imagination in exchange for his soul.
At first, the changes had been subtle. His skin grew harder, his strength grew greater. But over time, his humanity began to fade. His emotions dulled, his memories faded like distant dreams. And then, one day, he had no choice but to accept the truth: he was no longer a man, but an instrument of destruction, an eternal harbinger of the world’s end. His form twisted, his body became the very thing he had once fought against—the weapon meant to destroy all.
Now, all that was left was the agony of what he had lost. The humanity that clung to him like the faintest of echoes, the memory of a time when he had been Aeldrin the man, not Aeldrin the beast. The prophecy had foretold this: he was the final judgment, the last of his kind, meant to erase all that had come before. He was destined to bring the world to ruin, to be the end of everything.
But even as the world crumbled around him, Aeldrin sought something—a way out, perhaps. A reason to resist the prophecy. Yet, no matter how hard he fought, no matter how deep he buried the remnants of his old self, the curse would not relent.
The wind howled through the shattered remnants of the earth as he wandered, aimless. It had been days since he had seen another soul, and perhaps that was for the best. The last time he had encountered a human, the town had burned to the ground in a wave of fury and despair. He did not want to remember it, but the images haunted him nonetheless. The flames. The screams. The faces of those he had destroyed.
In the distance, the land stretched out before him, a barren wasteland, the horizon shrouded in dust and ash. The world was dying. And he, the one who had been chosen to end it, was slowly losing the battle against his own nature.
Joren’s discovery
Joren had heard the stories. Every child who grew up in the remnants of the old world knew the tales of the creature that roamed the earth, a monster born from the ashes of a forgotten age. The stories spoke of a being so powerful that its very presence would bring about the destruction of all things. It was said to be an ancient warrior, cursed and twisted into something unrecognizable. But for all the legends, no one had truly seen the creature. They said it was just a story, a myth to keep children in line.
But Joren knew better. He had seen the signs. The skies were changing, darkening with clouds that seemed to carry the weight of centuries. The ground trembled beneath his feet, and strange omens filled the air. Something was coming.
The town of Avren was small, barely surviving in the wake of a world that had long since forgotten its former glory. Joren had grown up here, raised on the stories of a better time, a time before the world had broken. But now, those stories felt like distant memories. As he made his way out of the town, a sense of unease gnawed at him. He had to know the truth. He had to find out what was causing the strange happenings around him.
It wasn’t long before he found himself on the path leading toward the heart of the ruins, where the old city once stood. His heart pounded in his chest as he thought of the creature, the beast that was said to dwell in the forgotten places of the world. He didn’t believe the stories at first. But now, as he walked deeper into the wasteland, he couldn’t deny the feeling that something was watching him.
When he finally encountered it, he wasn’t prepared. He had seen the creature from a distance, a massive figure towering against the horizon. But when it turned to face him, the reality of it struck him like a physical blow. The creature was no myth. It was real. And it was waiting.
Aeldrin stood before him, his eyes glowing with an unnatural light. His body was twisted, an amalgamation of stone and flesh, a creature that seemed to be both ancient and eternal. But there was something else in his eyes—something that hinted at the man he had once been.
Joren’s voice trembled as he spoke. “You’re… you’re the creature from the stories.”
Aeldrin’s voice was low, guttural. “I am what they made me. But I was once… something else.”
For the first time in centuries, Aeldrin felt something stir inside him. The pain of what he had lost, the human soul that still clung to him, longed for something more than the endless destruction. He had not expected to speak to anyone, much less be heard.
Joren’s eyes widened, sensing the sadness in Aeldrin’s words. He had always believed the creature was nothing but a harbinger of doom, an evil beyond redemption. But now, standing before it, he wasn’t so sure.
“Who were you?” Joren asked quietly, his fear giving way to curiosity.
Aeldrin’s gaze drifted to the distant horizon. “I was a man once. A warrior. A protector. But I made a choice. And now, I am nothing but the end of all things.”
As the days passed, Joren continued to follow Aeldrin, learning more about the curse that had bound the creature to its fate. Aeldrin spoke of a time long ago, of the war that had consumed the world and the pact he had made with the ancient force to save his people. But the power had come at a terrible price. The man he had been was gone, replaced by the monster before Joren.
But as they traveled together, Joren began to see more than just the beast. Aeldrin was not the mindless destroyer he had been told about. There was still something left—something human.
One night, as they sat by a dying fire, Joren asked, “Is there no way to end this? No way to free you from your curse?”
Aeldrin’s expression darkened. “The curse is not so easily undone. It is my destiny to be the end. No one can change that.”
But Joren couldn’t shake the feeling that there was still hope, that the creature was not beyond redemption.
The Final Choice
The signs of the apocalypse grew stronger. The earth trembled beneath them, and the skies darkened further. There was no more time to waste. The final judgment was coming.
Aeldrin knew what had to happen. The curse that had bound him to this fate could not be broken, and the world could not be saved. The prophecy had been clear. He was the end, and there was no escaping it. He could feel the pull, the inevitability of his fate, drawing closer with every passing moment.
But there was still one choice left. Aeldrin could choose to end it all, to allow the prophecy to unfold as it was meant to. Or he could sacrifice himself, giving up what little humanity remained within him to spare the world.
As the world crumbled around them, Aeldrin made his decision.
“I have been the monster. I have been the harbinger. But I will not be the end.”
And with that, Aeldrin disappeared into the darkness, leaving only the quiet of a world that would continue, uncertain but alive.
