Segretto had never debated traveling back after five years. Not the memories of the lost love who's body rejected the child nor the haunting relics of a dead cult in the forest below could weaken his pace. The grave had been calling to him, deep in a place impossible for anyone else to touch. It swam in his blood and sung in his muscles, danced to his heartbeat and electrified his struggling mind. Compelled, driven, he soon arrived.

There amongst the stones he placed that dismal day five years ago a sapling had taken root, seeming to have grown from his child's very heart, reaching out it's leaves in Nature's beauty. Life from death, gain through loss, consolation for his war-weary soul.

Peace.