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There had been a battle, vicious and horrible.

Two men stood in the middle of the ruin, their clothes stained with blood and dirt. Both of them was injured but still they stood on the battlefield, not yet ready to face their people. Not yet ready to celebrate their victory.

There was an understanding between them, at last.

One of the two slowly reached out for the other man, grasping his wrist before letting it fall down to his hand. A quick glance to ensure this was alright.

The other man had a tired smile on his face, letting out a short laugh.

“What now, Par'chin?” he asked, only to get a shrug in response.

“We rebuild. Heal, I suppose. Or do you have more prophecies lying around?”

The other man laughed, shaking his head. “No, Son of Jeph, I don't. We decide our future now.”

They both seemed to silently agree it was time to head back. And on they went, to a future they had fought for. And for all the ugly things they had done, their entwined hands looked beautiful together.