Nathan sat motionless in the now eerily quiet house. The faint scent of blood and burnt wood still lingered in the air.
His chest rose and fell rapidly, each breath labored, as if the walls themselves were closing in on him. He wiped at his face, his fingers trembling, but the tears wouldn't stop.
Then he saw it—a thin tendril of smoke curling upward from the corner of the room. His heart leapt in panic, his gaze darting left and right, searching for the source.
It wasn't the fire itself, just the memory of it, playing cruel tricks on his exhausted mind. The house had already been extinguished, but in his eyes, everything was still burning.
He turned his head, eyes scanning the empty chairs, the shattered furniture, the darkened spots on the floor where his siblings had once been. They were gone. All of them. His father…his brothers…his mother, long before. And now, Nathan was alone.
