I curse you to die!
Perhaps, this is the beginning. A dark sky, black clouds, fire, and blood. With an empty mind, even animals would seem more dignified at that time.
The sky was black without stars. The presence of the full moon was outshone by fire, becoming a witness to events that would soon sink into the archives of oaths.
There is no harm in remembering too, is there?
"I curse you to die!" screamed the father of two children, going wild, shrill—perhaps nirvana itself screamed at its echo. "I curse you to die, along with your comrades—die over and over. Dying once would never be enough for you. Die with this land, then again and again. I pray you are rejected by nirvana." He pulled his two innocent daughters into his arms as they asked what was happening. Embers began to pile upon his broad back.
"Anna, Enne… Father is fine. Forgive Father, so don't cry—only, Father's girls must sleep. Sleep long and soundly, for the night is late. Remember how to sleep?"
The two children glanced at each other, looking at their father with sorrow before singing with trembling voices.
Good night, sleep tight,
under the moonlight
Good night, sleep tight
until morning comes
The fire was like a tsunami. Everything had melted away. The forest was gone. The grasslands had turned to dust. The huts and remaining houses were nothing but skeletons. One day, this day would be known as "The Day of Regret".
Good night, sleep tight,
under the moonlight
Good night, sleep tight
until morning comes
"Mother… wake up, Mother!" whispered the little boy—almost screaming before a form whose shape was no longer clear. A body that had long been crushed beneath a massive wooden beam. The smell of smoke had fused with pools of crimson.
Yet not a single person running paid heed to the child's cries. Everything passed by. In the face of reality, humans looked like insects before a frog.
"EVERYONE TO THE LAKE!"
"IT'S USELESS TO GO TO THE LAKE! THIS IS NATURAL FIRE!"
Crying everywhere. "Forgive me—no, forgive them—forgive us—forgive me—forgive you—forgive me—no, forgive me… WHAT DID I EVEN DO WRONG?! THAT YOU SO BLATANTLY BURN MY HOUSE WITH THIS FIRE?! I CURSE YOU TO DIE—" screamed the woman, sitting in the middle of the grassland, waiting for the sea to drown her. A blast of fire struck her from above, leaving behind a trail of cool hatred full of an inexplicable sense of forgiveness. Ah, the woman was a remaining skeleton.
Running with burned hands. Running with crippled legs. The body was hot, and death felt like the best choice amid all the confusion.
Howls of pleading, as though an immensely elusive wrong had already passed. They did not blame themselves or anything else in their howling. There was no use in running, avoiding, or hiding—but stubbornness seeped in to do all that was useless.
Good night, good night,
I love you, good night
Good night, good night,
I love you, good night…
"I curse you to die!"
I beg you—anything—play anything—just please, don't repeat this one…!
"Why can't I…"
Faintly it was heard from the sky. Thunder roared, yet no rain followed. Only a storm greeted the expansive red sea parading like the greeting of waves.
Behind the darkness of ashen smoke, behind the gloom of the sky that night, behind masks of sweetness and betrayal—someone stood at the highest point of the sky, blaming himself with a calm, bowed face. Call him the Light.
"Say it!"
The Light's face showed little care for the cries of apology that sang, ran, hundreds of meters below his feet. Only a faint slip of lifeless regret remained.
After several plumes of smoke, someone far before him stood floating, expression flat. Call him the Darkness.
"Why can't I…" Not long after, a glimmer of light pierced the fog, forming a pommel, a grip, quillons, and then the blade in his right hand.
Hot wind blew; the hair of the Light and the Darkness fluttered. The smoke that flared made already-vague faces even more indistinct.
"Why can't I do this?" the Light spoke again, his voice trembling. His head bowed downward, not looking at the Darkness.
In the end, is the end truly unchangeable?
The Darkness surged forward at lightning speed, creating a thunderous roar rivaling the storm. Their powers collided, held back by brilliant light. Enduring pain atop the sky created music and melody that adorned the blaze of dancing flames.
Holding back the light felt hot, painful, blinding. The Darkness was thrown and parried again and again without expression. Amid countless clashes against the light, the Darkness spoke, "You have lost your mind.
"Wake up!"
STOP SHOWING THESE DAMN MEMORIES IN MY MIND!
Today, rain fell.
Sheets of rain kept pouring from morning until evening. Gray clouds gave the sky no chance to offer a hint of blue. Gloomy and dark.
An old man lay weak in one of the hospital rooms. His body thin and wrinkled. There was no one else—only him. He was alone. The heavy rain made his heart even more chaotic.
This hospital was large and busy, yet to him it felt utterly empty. Quiet, lonely—so silent it felt to remain in the room. This dusk felt like night.
The sound of lightning and thunder echoed—rumbling. The turbulent wind felt as though it was right by his ear. Ears once accustomed to noise and the warmth of togetherness now had none of it left. Truly like someone about to drown just by looking at him.
In silence, he listened to the rhythm of raindrops outside the window. Strange—he seemed to enjoy it so much. Wasn't this sound something that used to annoy him deeply?
His chest was tight; it was so hard and heavy to lift his head. Dizzy—his body was truly exhausted. Sweat flowed all over him. Somehow that sweat felt cold. His skin grew pale. His vision blurred further.
How much time had he spent in this room? How long since his family last came to visit? And when was the last time he saw the sun? There was no one to accompany him.
Only lying still, waiting for something uncertain—stretched out on the bed, unable to do anything. What made him feel warmth seemed to be seized by time. He could not blame anyone, not even himself.
Until the moment finally came. Something that felt as though it had been awaited for years. Though the air grew colder and the rain poured harder. Petrichor spread beyond the walls. A line of a smile formed on his wrinkled face.
This feeling was magical—indeed strange. It spread through his body and mind. Like a warm touch, tightly gripping the palm of his cooling hand. Old feelings seemed to mix with longed-for tenderness.
He smiled. Weakly, both hands stroked the black cord that was always in his grasp. Holding the cord that looped like a bracelet, his face full of hope.
"I… believe… let us… meet again."
A voice for a vow, a voice for hope. A voice for being.
He spoke it trembling and halting. Finished. Tightness—yet he could no longer shed tears. Those tears had long since dried.
An old vow. An ancient vow. A simple vow that sounded nonsensical and childish. The dream of seeing an ending we made together seemed about to be fulfilled. Yes—toward a future without false smiles.
Happiness—that was what he felt before his eyes closed tightly.
May it truly be so..
Pray for Loka.