The excitement in the village was palpable. Moshi buzzed with life, both young and old elated, their faces shining with bright, joyful smiles. Everywhere, households were busy—sweeping, decorating, and preparing for the festival with thorough cleanups. It was that time of year that filled everyone with joy, a time when the villagers gathered as one to tell tales of history, to recall with pride the deeds of their ancestors that had made Moshi so prosperous.
Laughter echoed in the air as two children, full of energy, darted between the villagers. "Wait for me, Lain!" a small voice called out. Lain, an eight-year-old girl, glanced over her shoulder at her younger brother, Eddy. The six-year-old struggled to keep up, his tiny frame no match for her quick strides. She stopped abruptly, her laughter dying in her throat as her wide eyes fixed on something ahead.
"Eddy," she whispered, her voice trembling.
"What is it?" Eddy asked, coming to a stop beside her, his excitement fading at the sight of his sister's frozen expression.
"Look!" Lain pointed toward the forest path.
Eddy squinted in the direction of her gaze. A group of hunters was emerging from the trees, but something was wrong. They weren't singing their usual victorious songs. Instead, they walked in grim silence.
"That's strange," Eddy muttered, his brow furrowed.
Lain's eyes narrowed as she focused beyond the group. Two figures were being carried—no, dragged—by the burly men. They weren't game, but… covered in blood?
Realization hit her like a cold gust of wind. She grabbed Eddy's hand and bolted toward the village, her heart pounding in her chest. The urgency in her movements filled Eddy with fear as he struggled to keep up, his small feet barely touching the ground as Lain dragged him along. His breaths came in sharp, uneven gasps as they hurtled toward the village square.
When they reached the village, Lain, breathless and wild-eyed, screamed, "The hunters are back!"
Villagers turned to one another, confused. It was too early for their return, but they smiled nonetheless, anticipating a celebration. However, Lain's next words shattered their hopeful mood. In a low, solemn voice, she added, "I think they lost someone."
Gasps rippled through the crowd. The joy that had filled the air moments before drained from their faces. No one had ever died during the festival, not in living memory.
The vibrant atmosphere that had been filled with laughter and excitement shifted into something darker. Whispers of dread passed through the throngs of people, each exchange tinged with anxiety. Faces turned pale, eyes wide with unspoken fears. Even the smallest children, who usually ran about carefree, felt the tension, sensing that something was terribly wrong.
Word spread quickly, and soon the entire village converged at the center, their hearts heavy with dread. They gathered in silence, watching as the hunters, flanked by a sea of anxious faces, approached with their grim cargo.
Zoni, the village head, stood at the front, his face dark with concern. He raised a hand, and the murmuring crowd fell silent. "Step forward," he commanded.
The hunters obeyed, laying the two figures gently on the ground. There were sharp intakes of breath as the crowd recognized them.
"It's the Esmonds," someone whispered. "What happened?"
The whispers grew louder as the villagers strained to see the horror before them. Blood soaked through the clothes of the once-proud couple, staining the ground beneath them. The silence that followed was suffocating, a collective gasp of disbelief hanging in the air like a cloud. These were not supposed to be the victims. They were the ones who raised the strange child with resilience in the face of a village's cold eyes. They had been the ones who made it work, despite everything.
At that moment, a boy in the crowd, recognizing the figures, turned on his heel and ran, panic spurring him forward. His feet pounded against the dirt as he reached a house on the far side of the village. Desperate, he banged on the door until it opened.
"Lauren! Open up!" Ryan's voice trembled with urgency, his fist slamming against the wood.
The door remained tightly shut.
"Lauren!" he shouted again, banging harder. This time, the door creaked open slightly, revealing a shadowed figure.
Ryan didn't wait for an invitation. He burst through the entrance, grabbing Lauren's wrist without explanation.
"Ryan, what's going on—?"
"There's no time!" he cut her off, his breath quick, eyes wide with terror. "You need to come—now!"
They ran together, the wind whipping across their faces, dust swirling in their wake. Lauren's heart raced, fear gnawing at her insides, a growing sense of dread overtaking her. She felt Ryan's fingers digging into her wrist, his grip unyielding, as though he feared she might slip away at any moment. He pushed through the gathering crowd, pulling her to the front.
Lauren stopped, breathless, her wide eyes scanning the scene. Something was wrong. There was no game, no triumphant return. Her confusion deepened until her gaze fell on the two figures lying at the center of the square.
One lay utterly still, while the other struggled weakly, eyes searching the crowd. The moment those eyes met hers, Lauren's breath caught in her throat. Her mother smiled faintly through the pain, the corners of her mouth barely lifting, but enough for Lauren to recognize it. A smile of recognition—of love, even now.
Lauren's mind struggled to process what was happening. Her chest tightened, her vision blurred by the sudden flood of tears. She took a shaky step forward, staggering as the weight of realization crushed her. The crowd parted, allowing her passage, though she barely noticed them. Her whole world had narrowed to the broken, bleeding figure of her mother.
Lauren dropped to her knees beside her. She tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come. Her voice failed her, lost in a choking sob. She reached out, her fingers trembling as they brushed her mother's cold cheek. The chill that washed over her was unlike anything she had ever felt before.
"Mami!" she screamed, her voice raw with anguish.
Her gaze fell on the still figure beside her mother. It was her father. A ragged gasp escaped her lips. "Dada?"
Lauren tried to move toward him, but her mother's hand clutched her dress, holding her back. She looked down at her mother, still weeping uncontrollably. Melinda's hand reached up, trembling, to touch Lauren's face. She motioned for Lauren to come closer.
"I'm sorry, Ren love," Melinda whispered, her voice barely audible.
"No, Mami, don't talk. Save your strength. You'll be fine—I'll get the healer," Lauren said, her voice rising in desperation. She turned to the crowd, her eyes blazing. "Someone get the healer! Don't just stand there—help!"
But no one moved. They all watched her with pity, their faces a reflection of the truth Lauren refused to accept. Ryan's sorrowful eyes met hers, and in that moment, the reality struck her like a blow.
Her mother was leaving.
"No, no, no," Lauren whimpered, clutching her mother's hand. "You promised... you promised you'd stay with me."
Tears streamed down her cheeks as Melinda, her breathing labored, whispered, "It's okay, Ren. You'll be fine. I broke my promise, but even when I'm gone, I'll be with you. Dada and I will always be with you."
Her voice cracked with pain, but she pressed on. "Listen closely, Lauren. No matter what happens, don't ever venture into the forest. There's something there—your father died protecting me. I've held on just to tell you this. Until you're twenty, resist the temptation, Ren. Please, promise me."
"I promise," Lauren sobbed, clutching her mother's hand tightly.
Melinda reached into her pocket, pulling out a locket, the same deep color as Lauren's eyes. She placed it in her daughter's hand, her grip weakening. "Keep it safe, Ren. When you're lost or sad, hold onto it. Be one with it. Do you hear me?"
Lauren nodded, too overcome with emotion to speak. She held the locket tightly, just as she held her mother's fading hand.
Melinda smiled weakly, her voice barely a whisper. "I love you."
"I love you, Mami," Lauren cried. But Melinda's hand grew limp and cold in hers.
Lauren shook her. "Mami? Mami, don't leave me. Please, don't leave me. Mami!"
Her cries echoed through the village square, the once-joyous day now drenched in sorrow. The villagers looked on, their hearts heavy with despair. The vibrant festival had turned to ash, and Lauren, only ten years old, had been left to face the world utterly alone.