After the final fray, I travelled north with the remains of his family, buried his memory in the snow.  I revisited the steel city periodically throughout the following year, but no trace remained. Four seasons forward, fresh snowfall foreshadowed a similar rite of passage, another marauder returning to earth. A reminder of unfinished business: a place abandoned that must now be secured.

It is time to make this decade-decayed sanctuary safe and sound once more. A space for future dwelling, or merely a curious museum of scars, fractures and frenzies? I cannot commit, I can only confirm the presence of my hand in the ink of its deeds. This much I know: this is not the place where things ended, but where they once began, where they might have their chance to begin again.