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"We Are Made of Choices" by cosmicfire918
Perhaps not so much reading, as reminiscing. His paw pads traced the titles on the spines of the history books, reminding him that he actually remembered so much of what they called “history” these days. In Neopia, he thought, heroes never died—they just went away for a while. He had been away for a while. Every year, Finneus added more books from lands outside Altador, and it astonished the king just how much had transpired during his thousand-year slumber. Meridell had barely been a coalition of tribes a thousand years ago—now it had been through a war and back, gotten tangled up in a time warp, and then another war on top of it all. It was going to take another millennium, Altador thought, just to get caught up with everything that had happened in this one. His paw paused over a very familiar title. Defenders of Altador. The king sighed and his ears drooped. This was his annual ritual. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he pulled the book off the shelf. There was himself and Jerdana on the cover. They should all be on there, he thought—all twelve of them. They had all made this land what it was.

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