The world around Alex shifted.
One moment, he was standing in the beautiful forest in the ancient tree , his heart beats in overwhelming fear.
The next, the forest vanished, replaced by a familiar warmth.
The scent of pine filled the air, mingling with the aroma of roasting meat and sweet summer blossoms.
It was the smell of home.
"No... this isn't real,"
Alex thought, panic rising inside him.
The scene was so vivid, so achingly familiar.
The laughter of his friends echoed through the air, and he could see the familiar faces of his clan, gathered around the central fire pit as they celebrated beneath a clear night sky.
The stars overhead twinkled like diamonds, and Alex's heart clenched with a strange mix of longing and dread.
He knew this place. Knew it so well.
His mother's smile caught his eye, warm and gentle, as she sat near the fire, her eyes shining with joy.
His father's deep, rumbling laughter made the air feel safe and whole again.
A lump formed in his throat.
"This isn't real," he told himself, his voice shaking.
"It's just... it's just a trick."
But it felt so real.
The sounds, the smells, the warmth—they all pressed down on him, smothering the dark, cold forest he had just left behind.
He took another step, his mind screaming at him to turn back, but he couldn't look away.
He was home.
His heart ached with a fierce, desperate longing, and he wanted—more than anything—to believe it was true.
He opened his mouth to call out to them, but the words died in his throat.
The sky darkened.
A heavy silence settled over the gathering. His clan, once joyous and full of life, began to shift, their faces turning pale, eyes widening in horror.
Alex felt his blood turn to ice as he watched the flames of the bonfire twist and darken, black smoke rising to choke the stars above.
"No," he whispered, his breath catching in his throat.
"No, please..."
A wave of darkness swept through the village like a living storm.
Alex's stomach dropped as he saw the twisted shapes of figures moving among the flames, their eyes burning with cold malice.
His clan's joyous laughter turned to shrieks of terror, and the familiar faces of his friends twisted into masks of agony.
The smell of blood and smoke filled the air, choking him.
"No!" he shouted, his voice raw with desperation.
"Leave them alone! Don't hurt them!"
But the nightmare had only begun.
The darkness spread, consuming everything in its path.
He saw his friends fall, one by one, their cries for help echoing in his ears, mingling with the roar of the flames.
He was rooted to the spot, helpless, as the village he loved burned to the ground.
Then he saw them—his parents, standing alone in the center of the chaos, the figures closing in around them.
His mother's face was frozen in shock and horror, and his father stood tall, defiant even as death loomed.
"No!" Alex's scream tore from his throat, his legs finally moving as he stumbled forward.
He fell to his knees in the dirt, reaching out to where his parents stood surrounded.
"Please! No! This can't be happening!"
The flames roared higher, their heat searing his skin, but he couldn't move any closer.
He watched, helpless, as his parents were struck down, their bodies crumpling to the ground.
Blood splattered the earth, staining it red, and their bodies began to turn to ash, swept away by the dark wind.
"No... no..." he whispered, the words barely a breath.
"I don't want to lose them again.
Please... don't make me do this again."
He collapsed to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably, the tears streaming down his face.
The village was burning now, flames licking hungrily at the wooden structures, smoke choking the air.
The firelight flickered in his tear-filled eyes, turning everything into a blur of light and shadow.
He couldn't breathe—his chest was tight, his heart pounding so hard it hurt.
"Why?" he sobbed, his voice breaking.
"Why is this happening? Why now? Why again?"
He clutched the dirt where his parents had fallen, the cold, ashen ground slipping through his fingers.
Everything he knew, everyone he loved—it was all gone, ripped away in the blink of an eye.
"This is my fault," he thought, his chest heaving with grief.
"I strayed too far... I was too afraid, and now they're gone.
It's all because of me."
The weight of his guilt and grief was unbearable, pressing down on him like a heavy blanket, making it hard to think, hard to breathe.
He could feel himself slipping, feel the darkness pulling at him, trying to drag him under.
He was so tired, so broken.
What was the point of fighting?
There was nothing left—no home, no family, no future.
"I can't..." he whispered, the words a broken plea.
"I can't do this... I can't go on..."
And then he felt it—a cold, suffocating presence, lurking just behind him.
He froze, terror coursing through his veins as he sensed the Harrow drawing closer, its very being pulsing with hunger.
The air grew colder, the shadows deepening, and he knew that if he turned, he would see it: the creature that fed on his fear, the thing that would consume him if he didn't find the strength to stand.
His heart pounded wildly, and he felt the Harrow's cold breath on his neck, whispering promises of eternal despair.
It was so close now, circling him like a predator waiting for the final moment to strike.
"No," he thought desperately, his vision blurring with tears.
"Not like this... I can't let it end like this."
A voice cut through the darkness—soft and distant, barely more than a whisper, but unmistakable.
"Stand up."
Alex froze, his breath catching.
He looked around, but the village was gone, the flames extinguished, the smoke vanishing into the air.
All that remained was the charred ground beneath his feet and the echo of his mother's voice in his mind.
"Stand up," the voice repeated, a little louder this time, and he recognized it.
His mother's voice.
"No," he choked, shaking his head.
"No, you're not real... you're gone."
"Stand up, Alex," the voice insisted, firm and gentle.
"Don't give in. Not now.
Not when you've come so far."
His hands clenched into fists, the cold dirt biting into his palms.
He wanted to give up, to let the darkness take him, but the warmth in that voice—the love he felt in it—was like a lifeline, pulling him back from the brink.
"I don't know if I can," he said, his voice breaking.
"I don't know if I'm strong enough."
"You are stronger than you know," the voice said, and this time, he saw her—his mother's face, clear and bright, smiling at him with a gentle strength.
"You have always been strong enough. Stand up, Alex."
Tears streamed down his face, but he forced himself to move.
He pushed against the earth, rising to his knees, then to his feet.
His body trembled, but he stood, staring at the ruins of his home.
"No," he said, his voice rising with newfound resolve.
"I'm not going to let this break me.
I'm not going to let you take everything from me.
Not again."
He wiped the tears from his eyes, his expression hardening.
He looked out at the destruction, the ashes that had once been his home, and he made a vow.
A promise that burned hotter than the flames that had destroyed his village.
"I will get stronger," he said, his voice firm.
"So strong that no one will ever be able to hurt me or the people I care about again.
I will find those responsible for this... and I will make them pay.
I will have my revenge.