It all ended in that single night. Professor Ross died by Eric's hand and Coen's bullet. Coen dissolved into the otherworld too and Toren had been transported back to the void.
His thoughts were swirling hazily. Nothing was getting clearer even as time went by.
He even wonders if the flow of time in that void space was existent. His body felt light as it floated in the middle of that infinite darkness and his memories were scattered into different, strange places.
With nothing else on his side, he recalled those same memories – the ones that left his mind before. They were a bit vague now, like paintings that had been washed by a running river, run-down and melting.
He remembered the sounds of rasping and clashing swords.
They were blood-soaked from different kinds of people in the village.
Every blade was tinted with sins and brutality against the innocent people who only wanted to live peacefully. Their tranquil lives had been jeopardized by the crossfires of far away empires and selfish royalties. The respect and consideration that were supposed to be due were not adhered to. The world with its ears and eyes were abandoned into the shelves of a downward spiral.
Chain of events. It was a great war.
Survival instincts heightened and riots got entangled more and more convoluted. The misunderstandings were followed with another one and another one until the world was finally burning.
And everyone was screaming and shouting and wailing.
What have they done to deserve such a horrible life?
What landmine have they stepped on to be exploded into a blitz like this? The questions only trailed off and got lost at the sea of everyone else's noises.
People are desperate for a little tint of hope, which gave birth to a secret organization. It grew more than the people's expectations and they got hold of things they needed for a revolt.
In between those moments where it seemed significant, it turned out pale in comparison with the prologue of something else bigger. A seemingly absurd prophecy from an elderly shaman at the edge of death.
Her little words were like a butterfly's flap resulting in a disastrous tornado. And slowly, its vortex formed clearer at the brain of the boy's father. "There will be a traitor among your sons," It said. "His betrayal will result in the country's tremendous loss."
And though it seemed so tiny to be even significant, it turned out to be a much bigger trouble than how it was said. For a few years, it was remembered and forgotten at the same time.
As for that organization, which they thought was such a big deal then, there was patience and schemes and training. And then, a shootout at the grand villa which was supposed to be a joyous celebration for the ruler.
It was that emperor's presence that gave them opportunity and courage. And then, a thorough investigation after their ambush's failure.
Toren was forced to live together with them after years of hiding beneath the range of prophecy's effect. And there, he experience torture, so he ran away.
He sought out a colonist captain's help and provided him shelter in the basement.
During his stay in that dusty, tiny place, something miraculous had happened no one else knew. Not the emperor, not the captain, not his father, and not the villagers.
Something was fulfilled during the days he was supposedly missing.