I was resting under the tree a few meters from my house when my father suddenly woke me up. At that moment, I noticed a dense plume of smoke covering the horizon. It was coming from the village, spreading rapidly. In the distance, trees began to burn, engulfed by furious flames rising high into the air as screams grew louder and louder. The red of the fire mixed with the last rays of the setting sun, creating an apocalyptic scene.
"What's happening?" I whispered, disoriented by both the dream I had just woken from and the destruction unfolding before me.
"Son, we have to go!" my father shouted urgently, grabbing me by the waist and carrying me toward the house. The roar of the flames and the cries were getting closer and closer.
As I looked back, I watched the smoke and flames advancing. Slowly, fear began to grip me, tightening around my chest.
We entered the house. The first thing my father did was rush to my mother's room, where we found her sitting, her face tense.
"What's going on, Elmer?" my mother asked, visibly nervous.
"I don't know, but it's chaos out there. We need to leave, now. Naára, Kaini, grab everything necessary, quickly!" my father yelled. I ran to my room while Naára headed to hers, and my father focused on gathering essentials for my mother.
My mind was a tangled web of terror. It was as if a war had broken out outside. The fear of something terrible happening made my skin crawl, and the only solace was knowing the danger was still at some distance—for now.
Once we had gathered the essentials, we left the house. My mother and Naára were visibly nervous, their hands trembling and their breathing quick. They were trying to control the fear overtaking them.
"We need to take a safe path," said Elmer firmly.
The situation was especially difficult for my mother. Her advanced pregnancy made it hard for her to move quickly, and we all had to help to prevent any accidents.
"I don't… I don't know if I can keep going," my mother said with a groan, holding her belly. "My stomach hurts."
"Alright, we'll go slowly," my father said, trying to stay calm. "This way."
He led us down a path I had never seen before. It skirted the village entrance and seemed like an alternative route, far from the chaos and flames. Although the path was longer, in an emergency like this, it was the safest option. It led us closer to my uncle's house, offering a secure detour.
As we moved forward, my uncle's house came into view. My father shouted his brother's name with all the strength and desperation he could muster.
"Brother! Brother!" His voice echoed with anguish, but silence was the only response. "No… he's not here," he murmured, fear beginning to show in his eyes. My uncle was the only one who could help us. As a swordsman, he had always protected the village and its inhabitants.
"They've abandoned us… They left us," my mother whispered, still wincing from the pain of her pregnancy.
"No, he wouldn't do that," my father replied firmly. "He wouldn't leave me alone." His gaze grew distant for a moment, lost in memories.
When we entered the house, darkness and emptiness surrounded us. No one was there, but the signs of recent activity were clear. The fire had been extinguished not long ago; the faint smell of smoke and the still-warm ashes confirmed someone had been there recently.
"Damn it!" my father yelled, frustrated.
"Sir, we need to keep going," said Naára, visibly distressed while supporting my mother. Her usual cold demeanor had completely vanished.
My father stood still for a moment, searching the house as if trying to find something to give him assurance. Each passing second heightened the tension for him, Naára, my mother, and me. In the end, after leaving everything disheveled, he decided to move on.
"Alright, let's go," he said, attempting to show confidence, though his nerves and the sweat on his forehead betrayed his worry. He held a sword in his right hand while firmly gripping my mother with the other. "This way," he added, guiding us.
We moved slowly, ensuring my mother didn't overexert herself. After a while, we reached a small clearing. From there, the village was clearly visible, and the echoes of screams—both from adults and children—still filled the air, enveloping us in the tragedy and chaos that seemed endless.
As we crossed the large mound of dirt, we finally reached the village's surface level. In the distance, I could make out Rina's house, particularly near the edge of the village. Though it wasn't entirely visible, I noticed several people gathered in front of it.
"Father… Father," I whispered softly, trying not to make too much noise.
"What?!" he snapped, stopping abruptly and turning to me, his face tense.
"Look, over there," I said, pointing toward Rina's house.
We both directed our gazes toward that spot. Suddenly, we heard shouts and voices calling a name—my uncle's name. My father's eyes lit up momentarily, reflecting something akin to hope, a faint illusion that gave him strength.
"Stay here, hide in the bushes. Naára, please take care of her and my son. I won't be long; I'm going for my brother," my father said in a firm, almost solemn tone as he adjusted the sword in his hand and prepared to run toward Rina's house.
As he left, I found myself unable to stay put. The anxiety and fear pounding in my chest were unbearable; my mother's embrace, attempting to hold me back, felt like chains. I needed to do something. On impulse, I slipped from her arms and escaped her frightened gaze.
"I… I'll go to Rina," I murmured to myself, determined, before charging forward.
I ran, stumbling over crops in the field. My feet sank into the mud in some places, sticking to my shoes and nearly causing me to lose balance. Fear and urgency drove me, but my mother's desperate cries reached me, mingling with the sound of my hurried steps. It was then my father noticed me. Turning back, he saw my mother's despair and the recklessness in my eyes.
"Son! Son!" my mother shouted. I paused for a second, turning to see her trying to move toward me from the ground, with Naára firmly holding her back. Her desperation pained me, but I felt I couldn't turn back.
I'll be back soon, Mom. Just a moment, I thought to myself, trying to convince myself.
With every step, I repeated that I just wanted to help. Rina had been my friend, and the thought of doing nothing filled me with helplessness. My father's shouts came soon after.
"What are you doing here, son?! Go back!" he yelled, still running.
I ignored his words, determined to do one thing.
As I got closer to Rina's house, I saw several shadows quickly retreating toward the village. My breath was ragged, my eyes squinting against the dust in the air. The smell of smoke grew stronger, filling my lungs and making me cough.
I watched my father as he ran desperately toward the house, calling out in anguish, "Brother! Brother!" Seeing him rush inside without hesitation, I pushed myself forward, taking my final steps toward the entrance. Exhaustion overwhelmed me; my face was covered in dirt, and my breathing was labored. I approached the house slowly, leaning against the walls to catch my breath.
As I rounded the corner, a pool of blood came into view on the ground. Taking a few more steps, I heard the heart-wrenching sobs of my father. His cries echoed with an intensity I had never seen from him before. In my mind, terrifying images of what could be behind that corner began to form.
Finally, turning the corner, I was met with a scene I never wanted to witness. Bodies lay scattered on the ground, torn apart, and slashed by swords. My eyes widened in horror, unable to process the gruesome spectacle before me. The world seemed to stop, and all I could do was stare, stunned, as my mind struggled to comprehend the brutality I had just discovered.
I felt an indescribable nausea and couldn't stop myself from vomiting on the spot. The faces of the lifeless people seemed frozen in expressions of terror.
My father was kneeling, holding my uncle's body, his torso riddled with deep and precise cuts. My legs trembled as I took hesitant steps toward him. Approaching closer, I looked inside the house and saw my aunt, a child, and another person whose face was unrecognizable, covered in a thick layer of dried blood.
Rina… Rina. Her name echoed in my mind as I stared inside, my vision blurring at the heartbreaking scene before me. My heart insisted it couldn't be true, but my mind forced me to accept the cruel reality.
I stepped inside, feeling the blood-soaked floor seep into my shoes. Everything was destroyed and in disarray—the chaos was as overwhelming as it was terrifying. My steps slowed as the horror consumed me, and finally, my eyes confirmed what I didn't want to believe.
There she was—Rina—lying on the ground. Her lifeless figure was an image I couldn't process. But it wasn't just her. All the women who had been in the house shared the same tragic fate. My uncle, who had clearly tried to protect them to the very end, now lay outside, unable to save them.
"Kaini, we have to go," my father said from behind me, his voice trembling. He ignored the scene, though his red-rimmed eyes and tear-streaked face betrayed his anguish.
I was no longer aware of my surroundings. I was utterly lost in a sea of dark thoughts, trapped by the images of the bodies I had just seen. The worst possible scenarios replayed in my mind, each more cruel than the last. I couldn't stop wondering: What had become of Aziel and Luna?
Seeing I wasn't responding, my father grabbed me and lifted me up, almost as urgently as he had pulled me from my dream. My thoughts were in chaos.
If only I hadn't come here… If only they hadn't entered… I wouldn't be seeing this, I wouldn't be thinking about them this way. My aunt, my uncle, my friend… All of them. They're all dead.
What is happening? I thought as the world around me crumbled into an abyss of horror and confusion.
Those thoughts—those images full of terror—kept running through my mind. But suddenly, like a ray of light piercing the darkness, I heard something coming from the village. A voice, faint yet familiar. It sounded like Rina's. An inexplicable force surged within me, as if my own senses were whispering: Go there.
I broke free from my father's grasp and started running, driven by a desperate illusion that all of this was just a nightmare. That if I reached the village, I would find Rina, Luna, and Aziel alive and well, waiting for me through all this chaos. My heart pounded as I pushed forward, tripping over rocks and branches along the way.
As I entered the village, the charred trees around me stood like spectral figures, their blackened forms dead from the flames. The cacophony that filled the air was deafening—a mixture of screams and cries blending with the roar of the fire. And then, as if the heavens themselves wanted to quell the inferno, it began to rain. Drop by drop, the rain struck the ground, slowly extinguishing the flames.
Behind me, I heard my father shouting desperately: "Son, son, don't go!"
But I kept running, wanting to escape it all, fueled by the hope of finding those I loved. Yet, the familiar sound that had guided me began to fade, swallowed by the noise of the rain.
I felt tired and stopped, coming to terms with the horrifying reality around me. Bodies lay scattered on the ground, the rain forming crimson puddles around them. Horror gripped me, and an impulse made me turn around, searching for my father, yearning to leave this cursed place.
And then I saw him. My father stood there, just as a man in a white suit stabbed him. His pristine attire, now stained with red, blended into the darkness of the night. My father looked at me for an instant, trying to say something. But his words were drowned in silence, only a trickle of blood escaping his lips before he collapsed.
I couldn't believe what I was seeing. The man, the knife still embedded in my father's stomach, made a firm slash, causing my father's entrails to spill onto the ground beside him. Acting purely on instinct, I turned on my heels and started running. My heart froze, and my breath hitched. My thoughts went blank as my legs carried me away, unable to stop.
I ran and ran until my strength almost abandoned me. The rain, growing heavier, mingled with the sweat and blood on my skin. In the distance, I spotted a figure—a trembling shadow clutching their arm. As I got closer, I recognized the child's face. It was Aziel. He stood amidst scattered, massacred bodies. Looking closely, I realized the corpses wore the same white suits as the man who had just killed my father.
I froze, paralyzed, watching him in the middle of that macabre scene. Aziel's gaze was fixed on the bodies at his feet, motionless under the rain. Then, as if sensing my presence—or perhaps my ragged breathing—he lifted his head. A smile spread across his face, familiar yet unsettling. It wasn't a smile of joy or relief. It was simply a smile—a simple, eerie welcome.
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