Lance wrote words down onto the blank sheet of paper. He had decided he was leaving everyone that night.
He didn't want to bother the other Paladins as much as he already had.
Dear Paladins, I'm sorry I had to leave you. I didn't want to keep you miserable, so I will be somewhere else.
Lance put away the pen and folded the paper as perfectly as he could.
He looked at his groggy face in the mirror. Dark purple bags sat below his once blue eyes, which now had faded to a pale grey.
His lips were chapped and his skin no longer glowed like it used to.
Everyone dismissed it as just space sickness or something, but Lance wished they knew.
The effects of war were already taking their toll on his soul and mind, and he no longer had the lively spirit he was so known for.
Lance brushed his teeth, gathered his belongings, packed some food rations, and went off in the blue lion. He didn't look back or say goodbye to his fellow Paladins.
What Lance had forgotten to bring was that silver pen he had written the note with.
