"What are you doing, Aria? What happened to not going back in this kind of weather, and certainly not a sick cart, to save a stranger you do not know?" Aria muttered, hauling the cart she'd tripped over earlier with a pissed look. Heading back toward the farm, her conscience nagged louder. "It's because you know deep down you were being wicked," the voice scolded.
"I should turn back now," she said, half-joking, though her sigh betrayed how often she talked to herself —a lot more than normal people would—an old habit born of loneliness that stretched back to childhood.
The farm loomed dark and eerie, with tall grasses swaying ominously under the hammering rain. Aria could barely see her path, the storm blurring her surroundings. The ground was slick and treacherous, turning every step into a battle. A fool's mission, but one she couldn't abandon.
Remembering father, pulled at her heart, it made her wonder, was this how he had felt? Had he been left in the same condition as this stranger? Abandoned when he needed help the most? The thought clawed at her, each step dredging up memories she'd tried to bury. Somehow, going back made her feel like she was making up for not being there to save her dad even though she hadn't even grown back then.
Before she realized it, she was standing in front of the labyrinthine building. The sight made her hesitate, her resolve wavering. "Should I turn back now?"
"No," her conscience snapped. "You've come too far for that."
Taking a deep breath, she parked the cart and stepped inside. The rain outside roared like a beast, and lightning briefly illuminated the corridor. She navigated the familiar path by memory, her hand trailing along the damp walls.
"What if he's already dead?" a dark thought whispered.
"At least I'll know I tried," she muttered, her voice firm.
Just then something caught her attention causing her to freeze. A room was being lit up with a soft glow, and if she could remember correctly, she was sure it was the room she left the man in.'Is someone with him? Is he awake?' She questioned as doubt crept in. He'd been nearly lifeless before. "Aiya, I doubt that, he was almost on the verge of death before I left. Though I really didn't mean he should be dead, I am innocently stating a fact, Father" she prayed softly.
Cautiously, she approached the room with much hesitation, the thought of retreating teasing her. Finally, she stepped into the room and was rooted to the floor.
The sight was mesmerizing.
The man laid with had his back to the floor, but the room was alive with fireflies. Their soft light danced in defiance of the rainstorm outside, no fireflies could be able to withstand that much rain. It didn't make sense—nothing about this did. But Aria couldn't look away.
Her hand lifted instinctively toward the glowing insects before she snapped out of it. "Focus, Aria. You've got a life to save."
Kneeling beside him, she placed her hand on his chest, hesitating for a moment before pressing down. If she was to save a life, at least it should be one that was still breathing. Proceeding, a faint heartbeat met her palm. Relief washed over her as she checked his pulse. It was there, weak but present and surging from within.
"You're alive," she whispered, she didn't know when she let out a loud chuckle, "your God must have loved you too much."
Determined, she grabbed his arms and tried to pull him up. "Hmph!! Hmpph!!!" she grunted heavily with all her might, his body was far heavier than she'd expected. "Hmph!! Hmpphh!!!" With much pull she barely only managed to lift his torso, with only as much for his trunks. She dropped him back down with a frustrated sigh, collapsing onto the floor.
"You never told me his body was going to be light as a feather, aye?" she sarcastically questioned, heaving heavily like someone who had just finished a marathon.
The rain hadn't stopped, soaking through the broken roof and making everything harder. His stiff, rain-soaked clothes felt like deadweight. She kept trying, but each pull felt like she was the one almost being pulled back towards the body.
Looking up at the relentless downpour, she clenched her fists. If she stayed here any longer, she risked both their lives. Aria knew she had to do the impossible.
Gritting her teeth, she inhaled sharply. Years of bottled-up pain surged through her, memories of her father's bloodied face fueling her resolve, she could feel her heart tightening. With a loud cry, she pulled his body again, her frustration and hurt lending her unexpected strength.
Surprisingly, this time, she was able to drag him to the door.
But the moment Aria paused to rest, pain lanced through her body. She looked down and realized she'd ignored the thorny vines earlier when she had left the man—they were now digging into her skin further. She bit her lip against the sting and forced herself to move.
Driven by desperation, she gripped his arms again and pulled with everything she had. She refused to let herself stop. The stairs were next, every step a fresh ordeal. Her breath came in gasps, her muscles screaming, but she didn't give in.
When they finally reached the cart, she nearly collapsed in relief.
As she straightened up, panting, she looked ahead—and froze.
Her blood ran cold.