Orion drifted through a nebula that shimmered with soft greens and golds, and below him lay a world where spring never ended. Flowers bloomed in endless fields, and gentle breezes carried the scent of blossoms.
He landed softly, his feet sinking into a carpet of petals. The air was warm, and the light was soft and golden.
"Welcome," a voice said.
A figure emerged from the flowers—a being of soft green light, with eyes like clear water.
"Who are you?" Orion asked.
"I am the Gardener of Eternal Spring. I tend the fields of this world, where every flower holds a memory of joy."
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The sun was setting over Normandy, the waves washing over the sand, the wind carrying the scent of salt and memory. Lena stood at the edge of the water, Alex beside her, their hands intertwined. They had come full circle—back to the beach where her grandfather had landed, where the war had begun for him.
“I feel like I know him now,” Lena said. “Not just the man who came home. The man who fought. The man who was scared. The man who survived.”
Alex nodded. “I feel the same about mine.”
They walked along the shore, the water lapping at their feet, the sky turning orange and gold. The p
“I feel like I know him now,” Lena said. “Not just the man who came home. The man who fought. The man who was scared. The man who survived.”
Alex nodded. “I feel the same about mine.”
They walked along the shore, the water lapping at their feet, the sky turning orange and gold. The p