The cold wind rushed through the open door of the tavern, making me shiver slightly. My heart stopped for just a moment when I heard the bearded man exclaim. His voice was filled with something akin to shock, perhaps hope, as he called out, "Paul? Is that you?" For one split second, my chest constricted, and my breath caught in my throat. But as I turned my gaze towards the figure that had stepped into the tavern, I realized it wasn't him. It wasn't my father. Just a traveler, wrapped in a cloak, his build reminiscent of my father's but with none of the grace.
I let out a shaky breath, feeling a pang of disappointment I hadn't expected. Of course, it wasn't him. I was a fool to let myself believe it for even a moment. My father was gone, and so was my mother. I had seen it with my own eyes that night, the one I could never forget. The demon—a monstrous creature—had torn them from this world in front of me. No, there was no coming back. Death was final. That much, I knew.
