Huddled up in the cold of the abyss the only source of light and warmth comes from the slowly dying flame that is your will to go on in this cruel world. When all seems lost and your own will is but a failing ember a small glimmer of light reveals itself in the distance, could this be a new source of will or just the final barrier keeping you from joining the next world over? Slowly stumbling towards this feint ray it slowly begins gains in mass to the point where you can feel a sense of warmth, warmth almost alien to anything you can possibly try to compare it to. But as you finally come into range of this beaming warmth the light only reveals a massive army staring back at you, almost determined to make you turn back and abandon all chance of reaching it. Being the fighter you are you grasp the sword, steady the shield, and form your line. Body, mind, soul, and heart standing side by side ready to fight to the bitter end in order to get to this warmth.
Odds stacked against you and all signs pointing to failure you charge in, taking the army head on with all means you can pull together. Slowly the army begins to waver as you hack past every obstacle they throw at you yet your men grow tired as their blades begin to dull and shields warp. Body is the first to fall to the darkness as the weight of pushing forward finally collapses scarred knees. Next soul retreats into the everlasting blackness as defeat becomes almost certain. Finally mind surcomes to the long poisoned spears of the enemy, spears laced with regret and doubt. What became of heart you ask? Well heart is still battling on, bloodied, bruised, and scarred it fights on with the same passion felt when first discovering this warmth. For the only thing that can kill heart is a question, “Is it all worth fighting for?”