Raizen walked through the forest, devastated. His cloak dragged behind him, weighed down not by mud or morning dew, but by the sheer gravity of loss.
The air was heavy with silence, every step echoing louder than it should.
His gaze was dull, unfocused. He walked in a trance, not fully believing that they were gone.
Ricardo and Lira—the only true parent figures he'd ever had in his life—were now nothing more than memory, charred and reduced to flesh that barely resembled humanity.
His steps faltered. He stumbled, his legs giving out as he slumped down beside a gnarled old tree.
He leaned his back against it, feeling the rough bark dig into his cloak. With a tired grunt, he raised his hand to swipe his hair from his face.
He froze mid-way. His hand—shaking, bloodied—caught the light through the leaves.
Blood. So much blood.
He stared.
Willed it away.
Rubbed it across his tunic.
But it didn't vanish. It only spread further.
The stains had sunk in. Into his clothes. Into his skin. Maybe even into his soul.
The forest was silent. Too silent. No chirping birds, no rustling leaves. Just Raizen's occasional heavy breathing and the far-off creaks of ancient wood.
Kezess—his ever-present inner voice, the shadow of a former life—didn't interrupt. No sneering. No snide remarks. Only quiet. And that, somehow, made it worse.
Raizen remained there, slumped, for hours. The sun dipped low, painting the forest floor in long golden shadows.
Day melted into evening. Then dusk. The world went on turning. But he didn't.
Finally, as the last hints of light disappeared from the treetops, Raizen stood. He dusted himself off with mechanical movements, blinking slowly, like a machine coming back online. He froze mid-motion.
Kezess broke the silence. "Where have you planned to go now? To Marvin?"
Raizen didn't reply. His mouth opened, then closed again.
"Th-then what? Tell him that I couldn't save his parents, even though I could? That their bodies were reduced to lumps of flesh?"
Kezess didn't answer.
The silence that followed was not cold. It was cracked, unstable.
"Then... what will you do now?" Kezess finally asked, quieter this time.
Raizen looked up at the darkening sky. The stars were starting to peek through the branches.
"I... don't know. At the very least, I have to keep on living... somehow."
There was bitterness in his voice, a faint undercurrent of broken laughter.
He smiled. Not because he was happy, but because he remembered.
Ricardo's voice echoed in his mind, clear as if the man were standing beside him:
"Every life is precious, and so is yours, even if someone's gone... life keeps on moving. The greatest tribute to them would be to live your own life to its fullest. There are many astonishing aspects of life. You should experience as much as you can."
The words lingered.
Kezess stirred again. "Will Ryan and Sylvia be fine?"
Raizen scoffed. "Since when have you been interested in the wellbeing of 'humans'?"
But his tone softened. "Anyway... they should be fine. The only person liable to become their benefactor now is Countess Viola Thiolan... She's rather kind. At least compared to their deceased mother."
"You won't visit them?" Kezess prodded.
"No. Not now. They should be fine without me," Raizen said quietly.
He looked ahead. The road forked.
Two paths. One dappled with moonlight, the trees gentle and sparse. The other—dark, surrounded by ancient, towering elderwood trees. The left path looked like it hadn't been touched in years.
Raizen didn't hesitate. He took the left.
Each step crunched with leaves and broken twigs. The forest seemed to watch him, trees leaning in, like witnesses to his solitude. The wind picked up.
Then—a tremor.
Before he could react, the earth cracked beneath him. The forest floor crumbled, swallowing him into the darkness.
Raizen fell. Hard. The descent ended with a dusty crash.
He coughed, blinking away the dust.
He was meters below the surface, in a cavernous underground dungeon.
Cracks stretched across the stone walls, and stalactites loomed overhead, looking ready to fall at the slightest disturbance.
He heard a snarl.
His instincts kicked in. He leapt aside just in time to avoid a massive dog-like creature that slammed into a jagged wall spike. Blood splattered.
But more came. Dozens. He turned, surrounded.
Kezess whispered in a particularly annoying manner, "I think I know what you're going to be doing now."
Raizen sighed, exasperated. "Really now!"
Then they lunged.
---
Meanwhile, at the Helios Estate...
"So you're saying the manor just collapsed? Without reason?" Countess Viola Thiolan asked, her voice cold and sharp.
"C-Countess! I am telling the truth! Why won't you be-believe me!?" the butler cried, his face pale, lips trembling.
"Tone. Down. Your. Voice." Viola snapped, her words slicing through the air.
The butler flinched.
She turned to a maid. "Where are the children?"
The maid, too frightened to meet her eyes, simply pointed to a nearby room.
Viola turned and entered.
She was tall for a woman, graceful yet commanding. Her short platinum-blonde hair framed her defined face. Her navy-blue pupils gleamed even in the dim candlelight. She wore a plain black dress, long and elegant, paired with a white coat with a frilled collar. She was beautiful—in a distant, cold way.
As she stepped into the room, she paused.
There they were.
Ryan was lying on the floor, asleep, a small Sylvia curled up atop him like a kitten. The scene was peaceful in a way the rest of the estate was not.
Viola walked in slowly, her steps muted. Gently, she lifted Sylvia and placed her on the room's lone bed. She picked up a blanket to place over Ryan.
Just then, he stirred.
"Auntie Viola?" Ryan asked sleepily, eyes blinking open.
Viola looked at him.
She didn't smile. Didn't speak. But something softened in her expression.
"Hmm..." she hummed quietly, brushing a lock of hair from Ryan's forehead.
Outside the room, the night continued. But inside that little space, under flickering lamplight, a fragile, precious stillness took root.