In the small village of Hallow's Bend, nestled in the shadow of great mountains, lived a boy named Ren. His family was poor but kind. His parents worked tirelessly on their little farm, and his cousin, Lila, was his constant companion. Despite their poverty, Ren's heart was full. He knew nothing of the cruelty of the world outside their small home.

That cruelty, however, was on its way.

One cold morning, Ren went into the woods to hunt, hoping to bring back food. The government had raised taxes, pushing the already struggling village to the brink. His father had pleaded with the tax collectors, explaining that they had nothing more to give. But the government showed no mercy.

While Ren hunted in the forest, soldiers came to their home. Unable to pay the outrageous taxes, his parents and cousin were condemned as traitors. The soldiers drew their swords, and in one swift, merciless action, they slaughtered his family.

When Ren returned to his village, he was greeted by a terrible silence. His heart pounded as he approached his home, feeling something was wrong. When he opened the door, his world fell apart. His father and mother lay dead, their bodies cold. Lila, too, had been killed, her face frozen in horror. Blood stained the dirt floor, and Ren fell to his knees, his cries of anguish echoing into the empty sky.

He wept until he could cry no more, clutching their lifeless bodies, begging the heavens to return them. But nothing happened. They were gone, and so was the life Ren had known.

He left the village that same night, no longer caring where he went. There was nothing left for him there. As he wandered, grief gave way to anger, and anger to hatred. The world was unfair, he thought. The weak were crushed beneath the weight of the strong. He vowed that he would never be weak again.

For days, Ren wandered the wilderness, consumed by his sorrow. He had no plan, no goal—just a gnawing emptiness inside him. Then one day, he stumbled into a trap. Hidden beneath the leaves, the ground gave way, and he fell into a deep pit, hitting his head on the way down.

When he woke, the first thing he saw was a pair of soft, glowing eyes.

A girl stood over him, her skin as pale as moonlight and her hair flowing like water. She was unlike anyone Ren had ever seen—delicate, ethereal, and hauntingly beautiful. Her presence felt almost otherworldly.

"Are you alright?" she asked, her voice soft and melodic.

Ren blinked, disoriented and weak. "Who... who are you?" he murmured.

"My name is Aira," she said. "I'm from the Ghost Tribe. I found you after you fell. You were badly hurt."

She had bandaged his wounds and stayed with him until he woke. Her kindness caught Ren off guard, as he hadn't felt such warmth since his family had been taken from him. There was a strange serenity in Aira's presence, a calming effect on his tortured soul.

Days turned into weeks as Ren and Aira traveled together. She taught him to survive in the wilds and shared stories of her tribe, a mysterious people who lived hidden in the shadows of the mountains. As they journeyed, a bond formed between them, and for the first time since his family's death, Ren felt something other than anger—he felt love.

He hadn't expected it, but he fell for Aira, her kindness and beauty piercing through the darkness in his heart. She made him feel alive again, like maybe there was still something good left in the world. They shared stories of their pasts, their hopes, their dreams. For a time, it felt like there was hope.

But the world, as always, was unforgiving.

One evening, as they camped by the river, a group of soldiers found them. They were sent by the government, still hunting down the remnants of the families who hadn't paid their taxes. Ren recognized the insignia on their armor—the same men who had killed his family.

A battle broke out. Ren fought with everything he had, driven by his hatred, but he was outnumbered. In the chaos, Aira was struck by an arrow, her fragile form collapsing to the ground.

"No!" Ren screamed, rushing to her side.

He cradled her in his arms, her life slipping away as her blood soaked the earth. Her once-bright eyes dimmed as she looked up at him, her hand trembling as she reached for his face.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I wanted... to save you."

Tears streamed down Ren's face as he held her close. "Please, don't leave me," he begged, his voice cracking. "I can't lose you too."

But her breath slowed, and in his arms, Aira died.

Once again, Ren was alone.

Something inside him broke that night. The innocence he had clung to, the love that Aira had sparked within him, was consumed by the overwhelming darkness. The boy who had once been gentle and kind was gone, replaced by something far more dangerous.

Ren rose from Aira's body, his heart cold and dead. He killed the remaining soldiers with brutal efficiency, his grief and rage driving him to slaughter without mercy. He didn't stop there. He hunted down anyone connected to the government, anyone responsible for the suffering of the innocent. His name became feared, whispered in terror by those who knew of his deeds.

But no amount of bloodshed could fill the emptiness inside him.

In his madness, Ren became obsessed with bringing Aira back. He searched for forbidden magic, dark rituals that promised resurrection. After years of searching, he finally found the means to reincarnate her. But the price was steep—his own life.

In a final act of desperation, Ren performed the ritual. He called Aira's soul back, pouring every ounce of his power into bringing her back to the world. But as she stood before him, reborn and alive, Ren collapsed.

His body, broken and exhausted from years of hatred and vengeance, could not sustain itself any longer. He lay on the cold ground, looking up at Aira one last time. She knelt beside him, her eyes filled with sorrow.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice weak and fading. "I just... I couldn't live without you."

Tears fell from her eyes as she held his hand, but there was nothing she could do. Ren's heart, long since shattered, finally gave out. He died there, in her arms, just as she had once died in his.

And as Aira wept for him, the stars above continued to shine, indifferent to the tragedy below. The world moved on, uncaring of the lives lost or the love destroyed, leaving nothing but silence where once there had been hope.