A deep breath.

Kanta inhaled sharply as he removed a piece of steel from his forearm with a pair of tweezers. Shrapnel had managed to lodge itself into his arm in his most recent battle.

He sat back in his chair, taking a moment to flex his fingers and arm to ensure everything felt correctly. Luckily for him, everything did.

He began to bandage his arm up with clean bandages, another countless scar to add to the multitudes that wrapped his skin. Kanta had lived a hundred lifetimes and his aging body showed of that. From the most infamous of the black scars on his face, to the ones that told a tale of battle.

��_Hrmph.��_ Kanta grunted as he tightened the bandages.

��_You know, if you had decided to continue and follow in my footsteps you��_d not have these issues.��_

The ghostly voice rang through Kanta��_s ears as he peered around, silver eyes flickering in the dimly lit room.

��_… Father?��_

Kanta raised a long eyebrow as he stood slowly, peering through the small office like room that was situated in his room in Moonglade.

��_You almost doubt you hear me. Has it been that long since you��_ve heard my voice, child?��_

Kanta rubbed his eyes slightly as he squinted, a blue light of a spirit standing by the window and peering out from it.

��_I remember being here a long time ago. Before the wars, before the ravaging of the lands. Before the forests look as they do now. We would travel from here to Mount Hyjal often.��_

��_I do not remember this.��_ Kanta said, doubtfully as he rested a shaky hand on the desk near his side.

��_You were young, and some trips were before you were born with your older sister.��_ The spirit turned towards Kanta, a smile on his wrinkled face as the long hair appeared to be wrapped in a long braided knot. ��_You do well you know, for what we were put through. You should stop holding such angst in your heart. You still blame yourself.��_

Kanta went to answer as he pushed off from the desk, and suddenly felt woozy. It wasn��_t until that moment that he realized how warm he felt. How sweaty his forehead was. His vision blurred and suddenly.

Blackness.

The Marksman collapsed to the floor, sweat beading his forehead as the kaldorei appeared to have passed out.

Author Kanta
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