Cire and Aira continued their routine in the following hours, working tirelessly to finish the chores. Aira took Cire to the market at noon, the most challenging part of their day. Bargaining for the best prices requires wit and resilience. Some miners glanced at Cire, but he had grown used to the unwanted attention. Aira, however, used her charm to their advantage, alternating between a warm smile and a piercing, soul-stripping gaze that made even the most brutal men lower their prices.
"Let's go back home," she said, gently caressing Cire's hair. "Oh, by the way, next week it's your birthday. I'll make you a meat pie, darling."
"There's no need, Mom. I'll gladly eat whatever," Cire replied with a small smile, though he was all too aware of the value of meat.
As they approached their house, a deafening explosion shattered the air, echoing throughout the village.
"What was that…?" Aira's voice was tense. Before she could finish, a miner ran by, shouting, "There's been an explosion in the mines! Run!"
Without hesitation, Aira gripped Cire's wheelchair and hurried toward their home. Explosions weren't uncommon in the mines—an accidental spark could ignite a pocket of gas, trapping or killing miners in an instant. But the aftermath was often worse. The Empire's supervisors would descend on the village, bringing chaos and punishment.
Cire's mind raced. He knew this was a coal mine, but something always felt off about it. Why were the Emperor's supervisors constantly monitoring the miners? Why did they seem more interested in the workers than the coal?
"Cire! Son!" Aira's voice snapped him back to reality. She crouched in front of him, gripping his shoulders. "Listen to me. Stay in your room. There's a chance of an avalanche. You know what to do."
He nodded, fear flickering in his eyes. But his thoughts betrayed him: What about Dad? Todd? Sergei? Please, someone, bring them home.
Aira left quickly, heading toward the supervisor's post to get news. Minutes passed, then hours. The light outside began to dim, and anxiety gnawed at Cire's chest. Fear, hope, and despair fought for dominance. Determined not to succumb, he decided to act. Rolling his wheelchair out of the house, he was greeted by an eerie silence.
Nothing.
No voices, no movement. Just an oppressive, suffocating stillness. As he approached the supervisor's post, he passed houses with dim lights and hushed whispers inside. No one dared step outside.
Why? His chest tightened with dread.
When he finally reached the post, it was deserted. The tension mounted until he heard angry voices nearby.
"Liam Regis, hand me the shard now!"
"Here you go," a weary voice replied. "I didn't know it was valuable to the Empire. I just wanted to give it to my son for his birthday. Please, let my family go."
Cire's heart raced as he followed the voices to the central square. When he arrived, the scene stopped him cold. Twenty miners lay on the ground, drowning in pools of their blood. He gasped, a sob escaping his lips before he could stop it.
One of the supervisors turned, spotting him at the square's edge. "What do we have here?"
"Cire! What are you doing here? Go back to the house!" his father, Liam, shouted, his voice desperate.
"Cire, please, leave!" his brothers, Todd and Sergei, chimed in, panic etched on their faces.
Cire ignored them, his gaze drawn to a figure crumpled on the ground. "Mom?" His voice trembled. "Mom!"
Aira was barely conscious, her body battered and bloodied. She managed a weak smile. "I'm fine, darling. Just leave—"
Before she could finish, one of the supervisors smirked, drawing a blade and slitting her throat.
"NOOOOO!" Liam and the brothers screamed in unison. Cire's blood turned to ice.
This isn't real. This can't be happening. I'm dreaming. This has to be a dream.
He was frozen in place, unable to move, unable to think. The lead supervisor spoke coldly: "Witnesses? Get rid of them. And take the shard."
The supervisors advanced. Sergei and Todd moved to shield their father, but Liam stepped forward, throwing himself at the leader. A brutal punch to his stomach sent him sprawling, and the snap of his arm breaking filled the air.
Liam looked at Sergei, his face a mask of pain. "Protect your brothers. It's your duty now."
Sergei caught a piece of cloth Liam threw and sprinted toward Cire. Two supervisors blocked his path, but Todd stepped in, buying them precious seconds.
"Run, Sergei! Run!"
Reaching Cire, Sergei scooped him up from the wheelchair and ran as fast as his legs could carry him. Tears streamed down his face as he cursed the world. "No one's coming to help us. No one!"
They arrived at the entrance of an abandoned tunnel. Sergei paused, panting, and gently set Cire against a rock. Peering into the darkness, he noticed a massive hole. Picking up a stone, he threw it down, waiting for a faint splash.
The sound brought a bitter laugh from his lips. "Of course. The old gas pocket."
Voices echoed in the distance. "They're here," Sergei whispered. He crouched in front of Cire, gripping his shoulders tightly.
"Listen to me, little brother. I'll stall them and come back for you, I promise."
Cire's eyes filled with tears. 'He's lying. He won't come back.'
"Don't cry, Cire," Sergei said, forcing a smile. "You're the reason we fight. The reason we push forward. I love you." He hugged Cire tightly, slipping something into his hand. "Take this. Happy 12th birthday, Cire Regis."
Before Cire could respond, Sergei lifted him and tossed him into the hole. The fall seemed endless, his screams swallowed by the darkness.
Then came the explosion—a deafening roar that shook the mountain, the village, and Cire's heart. The world as he knew it was gone.