When the first snow fell upon this far green land, the one who sought for the elixir of life finally came to the old wise man. “Does the potion really exist, O Wise Man of The Southern Island?” eagerly he asked for amend.
The Wise Man smiled at him. And with his gentle voice, he replied in a dim, “There is no such potion nor a pill. For it’s already in your heart when kindness cure the ill.”
The Seeker lost his tongue. Nothing he gain from seeking too long. But when he turned back to remorse his path, The Wise Man’s whisper caught his ears from a thousand yards. “She may not see the winter’s end. But her spirit will always remember how warm is your hand. So be brave, my young warrior. See her free as part of your honor.”
At that moment The Seeker shed his tears for the first time since he lost his sadness. And realize how long he has been blinded by his own selfish madness.