Did you know that trees never truly die of old age? These silent giants are the longest-living organisms on Earth, standing as witnesses to centuries of history. One ancient tree, a bristlecone pine, is believed to be over 4,000 years old.
It's fascinating to think—are trees, in a sense, nature's closest example of immortality? Their mysterious resilience and timeless longevity leave us wondering—do they exist beyond the reach of time, holding secrets we may never understand?
How many tragedies have they silently witnessed? How many versions of history have they seen unfold? How many different lives, stories, and fates have passed. How many wars have raged beneath their branches, the ground trembling with the march of soldiers and the cries of the fallen?
Is what's happening now just another version of what these trees have already witnessed? Could this moment—this fleeting life— end in something as small as a shard of glass from a war-torn world?
---
"Is it true that it has already stopped, Mother?" I whisper, my voice barely audible over the distant echoes of chaos.
The coldness of her hand makes my entire body shiver.
I hold her and my sister tightly as smoke fills the air, thick and suffocating. Our house no longer has a roof—just broken walls and a sky that offers no mercy.
My mother doesn't say anything—only my sister's cries fill the space, fragile and broken.
She clutches a half-empty bottle filled with murky liquid, her shivering hands struggling to guide it to our mother's lips. But Mother barely moves, her breath shallow, her body cold.
"Mother! Please drink this, Mother." My sister's shaking voice trembles through the smoke-filled air.
At the sound, my mother's eyes flutter open, dull and unfocused.
"Save it… Mel," she whispers, her voice barely more than a breath.
Her hand slowly slips from mine. Panic surges through me as I grab it again, clutching it desperately, shaking her with everything I have.
"Mother! No, please wake up!"
Her body slumps in my arms, the last warmth fading as she grows colder, heavier.
I can't see Mel's expression—my vision is blurred, drowned in tears—but I can hear her. Her cries, raw and uncontrollable, cut through the air, each sob a plea, each shout a desperate denial.
Somehow, Mel slips from my embrace, trying to get up—but before she can, she collapses, passing out.
Shock jolts through me as I quickly wipe my tears away. Gently, I lay my mother down and crawl toward my sister.
"Mel? Melisa?" My voice wavers as I shake her, my hands trembling.
Even in the blurry, smoke-filled room, I can still see the faint rise and fall of her chest. She's breathing.
Cough, cough.
The smoke finally reaches me, burning my throat, clawing at my lungs.
Realizing I need to do something, I force myself to take in my surroundings.
Our broken furniture, shattered and scattered—the remains of what the Ansaas soldiers destroyed. The roof, blown apart by the relentless rain of grenades. The fire, still smoldering from the neighboring houses, waiting to spread.
I push myself up, legs unsteady, and move toward the window. Slowly, carefully, I open it just enough to see outside, scanning the streets, searching for any sign that the soldiers have left my town.
That's when I realize just how loud everything is.
Cries, screams, desperate shouts—voices filled with panic and pain. The clash of people fighting, the thunderous tremors of countless feet running, stumbling. The ground itself feels like it's shaking beneath the weight of chaos.
My vision is swallowed by shades of grey and red—the smoke, the blood, the remnants of a town drowning in destruction.
"Brother... it hurts."
I whip around. Melisa is awake, her face twisted in pain. She lifts her shirt slightly, revealing a deep purple bruise spreading across her waist. My breath catches. I rush to her side.
"When did you—cough—get this, Mel?!" I kneel in front of her, panic tightening my chest.
"At the hall... when everyone was pushing each other. I—cough—tried to help Father, but they pushed me too." Her voice is weak, her expression strained with pain.
I force myself to stay calm.
"It's okay. It's okay. I'll find you a healing potion."
Without wasting a second, I crawl toward my mother, my hands trembling. But as I reach for the bottle, my heart sinks—the potion Melisa had been holding has already spilled when she passed out.
"Haha... I spilled it?" Melisa lets out a weak laugh before lying back down, wincing in pain.
I freeze, kneeling between her and Mother, my mind blank, my body shaking. I clutch my hands into fists, holding back my tears.
Will I lose everyone?
But… it's over, isn't it? So why, even at the very end, does it still feel like we're falling apart?
"Let's go to the hall, Mel—cough—I'm sure they'll help us. I'm sure they have healing potions… right?" My voice wavers as I crawl back to her. She's trembling, her breaths uneven.
"I… I can't move, Brother."
"I'll carry you, Mel. Don't worry."
Carefully, I lift her onto my back. She lets out a pained growl as I stand, her small hands gripping onto my shoulders.
"Mother…" she whispers, her voice barely there.
I swallow hard. "Mother, wait here. I'll come back."
Without looking back, I step forward, carrying Melisa as we make our way toward the hall—nearly a kilometer away.
---
Huff, huff.
The smoky air clogs my throat, each breath harder to take than the last. My legs, once strong, begin to slow, dragging with the weight of Melisa on my back.
I tremble—not just from the strain, but from fear. The fear of an attack, of something worse lurking in the shadows.
"When I heal… I want the berries..." Melisa's voice is faint, but it cuts through the silence.
"From the woods? Sure, sure, I'll get them for you," I reply, forcing a cheerful tone as I grip her leg, tightening my hold to keep her steady. Her voice is barely a whisper.
"Really? Father... said it's dangerous... creatures..."
I pause for a moment, trying to keep calm. "I'm sure they ran away from the loud sounds."
She sighs, her words barely making sense. "Oh... take a... lot for Mother... she can... make jam..."
"Okay, Melisa... okay."
Her mind is fading, slipping into confusion, but I keep moving, knowing I have to get her there. I can't stop. Not now.
Even before she can reply, the ground suddenly trembles, stronger than before.
I freeze, holding Melisa tightly, my heart pounding in my chest. The air is thick with dust and debris. Unfortunately, we're on the side of the town with the tallest buildings. I look up, horrified, seeing the cracks from earlier destruction widen, and the walls begin to crumble.
Panic surges through me. I hurry, running as fast as I can, but the fallen bricks and chunks of cement are too large, too fast to avoid.
And then—
The weight of it all crashes down. Both of us are crushed.
---
My mind spins, the dizziness taking over. I must have passed out for a moment, but when I come to, the crushing reality hits me.
I look back, my eyes wide with terror. There she is—Melisa—her black, wet hair visible beneath a fallen partition of wall. A pool of blood is spreading around her, dark and still.
Tears streak down my face, my hands trembling uncontrollably.
I try to stand, but I can't feel my legs. It's then that I realize: my right leg is crushed beneath the same wall.
With every ounce of strength I have left, I push at the wall, my trembling hands desperate, my body screaming in pain. Finally, I manage to free us—my leg and Mel's head.
I crawl toward her, ignoring the burning pain in my body.
"Mel?... Mel... don't leave me too, please..."
I cradle her head in my lap, feeling her breathless, cold skin against me. There's no reaction. She's still.
---
It ends, but at what cost?
Scraping, shuffling, the cries of agony fill the air, lingering like a heavy mist. With each step, i drag my feet, my body trembling, and I look back—only to see the trail of blood that continues to spill, the wound that refuses to stop bleeding.
"I should've brought a basket... should I get apples too? Father liked apples. I saw the tree the other day... who planted that? Is it still there?" I whisper to myself, the words barely forming as they slip through my lips.
Before I realize it, I'm deep in the forest. The silence surrounds me like a heavy blanket. Maybe I'm right—maybe all the creatures, all the animals, have fled.
I stand still, exhausted, my busted leg dragging with each step. The blood I've left behind is a trail, a path that could lead anyone to find me.
I look ahead, and for a moment, I question my own sanity. There, in front of me, is a massive white tree, its branches reaching out like the arms of an old friend. The plants around it are unlike any I've seen before—unique, vibrant, each bearing fruit. A small pond sits nearby, its water unnaturally green, glowing with an otherworldly hue.
I stagger toward the tree, my body heavy with exhaustion. Without thinking, I collapse beneath its shade, my limbs surrendering to the weight of it all.
Maybe… maybe I should rest here forever.