Amongst the sounds of brutality, there is a pocket of sad, sad silence.

That pocket has been created by two people, barely out of their teens-a boy, and a girl. They are poised for battle-a sword in his hand, two curved daggers in hers. But they do not rush at each other; do not attempt to kill each other. They just stand there, looking at each other, wondering how it all came to this. Tears travel mutely down the boy's face.

"I guess…I guess we should have known that we'd have to wake up eventually." the girl says softly. Her words should drown in amongst the war-cries and clashing metals, but they reach the boy's ears, clear as a bell.

He smiles sadly at her, doing nothing to stop his tears as he replies.

"You're right. But there was still hope back then, wasn't there?"

"There was. Say, do you remember that night at the river?"

"The time we saw a rainbow across the moon? And how we stayed for the sunrise afterwards, even though that was risky too?"

"Yeah, that one."

"I do remember, I do. I thought things would turn around then."

"So did I."

"Perhaps we were born into the wrong life. If we'd been born in another world, and if we had met there, then perhaps we would have had an entire lifetime together. We would have married, and grown old together. And we would have brought up a lovely family. They would have had the best life."

"Hmm… I can imagine them, what they would have looked like. Our three little girls, with your eyes and my hair and your smile and laughter."

"No son?"

"Maybe. Maybe. If we had had a son, his name would be Kita."

"Like your father?"

"Just like him."

"And our little girls. One of them would be called Liesa, for sure."

"Yes. I like that name. We could have taken them to that river to play."

"Or, we could just build our house there. And if we were lucky, we'd get to show them another moon rainbow."

They go on, like this, weaving the details of the life they might have had together into a pattern until a whole tapestry is laid out between them, bridging the gap between them. Seen only by them. It shines, glitters with the colours of pointless hope.

Around them, the fight goes on, the other people battling only focused on their own hatred, their own fear. The only love in this place comes from the two, and their tapestry. But even that has to end.

"Now?" she asks, eventually. Tears have begun to streak her face too.

"Now." He confirms. They steel themselves. There is one more moment of , they charge, weapons raised.

It is over quickly, a small mercy. Nobody notices, for people are dying left, right and centre. Too many of them innocents. But even that ends, and not a moment too soon, as the tired survivors escape as soon as possible, not realising that the world has lost something irreplaceable.

And later, much later, someone will need to clear up the carnage and those people, they will come, and they will begin the task that nobody else wants to do. And at some point, they will chance upon the two. But they won't realise, they won't realise that they deserved better. To these people, they are just two more bodies to get rid of. They won't find it curious that the girl is draped over the boy-bodies fall on each other willy-nilly, it's normal. They will fail to see that the boy's hands are lightly touching the girl's back, that he sought to hold her close with their final breaths. The dark light of the evening won't illuminate the tears that have dried on their faces. As they pull their bodies apart, they won't realise that they had fitted together perfectly. They won't register anything.

And even they did, the thought would stay with them for only an instant. For to have love that lasts that long, it goes against everything that they know. Everything. Even though that tapestry is there, spread out underneath them. It is trampled on, blood-stained, and fragile. But it is there. It is proof that in this place, love and hope once existed. It is there.

But of course, the tapestry cannot be seen.

And so, it will never be believed.