Papa always said the forest remembers everything.
It remembers kindness, remembers blood, remembers footsteps that were never meant to walk it.
But today… today it remembered death.
The predators had already dragged the dead Slayer away. I didn't bother looking.
Let the wolves and ravens tear his corpse apart because he honestly deserved worse.
I didn't go back home to rest. I didn't need sleep. Not yet. I went for a shovel.
Papa's body was still out there. Alone. And I wasn't leaving him in the forest another night.
As I walked, the air felt heavy—like the world was holding its breath, waiting for something to break.
The afternoon light was dim under the thick clouds, and the smell of earth carried memories I didn't ask for.
George and Trevor were leading me to where they last saw him.
Something in me… something dark and stubborn… told me to find Aunt Geni's remains first.
With my own feet and eyes, I searched.
The path curved between the old trees, roots twisting like veins under the soil. And then, I found the place where Papa's cabin used to stand.
Or what was left of it.
The whole clearing was burned black. The earth still looked wounded. Charred wood poked out of the ground like bones. The smell was faint now, but I remembered when the smoke rose so high the sky turned red.
Aunt Geni blew the place apart.
She lured Zefar to the bomb Papa hid under the cabin's doorstep. She stood right next to it, knowing exactly what would happen. She could've lived.
She should've grabbed me, taken my hand, and run to join the women and kids fleeing our kingdom.
But the moment she heard Papa was dead… something snapped in her. I saw it in her eyes. A fire. A promise.
She wanted to take the King of Slayers to hell with her.
She tried.
And Zefar walked out of the fire anyway.
Her sacrifice…
was supposed to protect me.
But he survived.
Making it feel like she died for nothing.
I stood in the middle of the burned clearing and swallowed hard. I didn't want to cry. Not here. Not in front of the forest. Not where she stood and chose her fate.
Something glinted under the soot.
I crouched and brushed the ashes aside with my fingers.
A necklace.
Made of hard, polished tortoise shells.
My breath caught in my throat.
I made that for her.
On her birthday.
Just a week ago.
I made it crooked. A little ugly. One shell was bigger than all the others, and the string wasn't tight enough. I joked she'd snap it the moment she sneezed.
But she wore it.
She actually wore it.
My eyes burned. My nose stung. I blinked fast, trying to force the tears back inside me where they belonged.
" Aunt Geni…" I whispered, clutching the necklace so tight the shells dug into my palm. "Why didn't we run?"
The wind didn't answer.
The forest stayed quiet.
And that somehow hurt more.
I stood up, wiped my face with the back of my hand, and kept walking. The shovel felt heavier than it should've. Everything did.
It didn't take long to find Papa.
He was lying exactly where Zefar left him—beneath the fallen branches, near the split-tree that lightning tore apart months ago. His body was cold now, stiff. His eyes were closed. He wore a smile, probably from thinking that the bomb would kill Zefar.
His chest and arms were riddled with small punctures and torn circles—wounds that looked like tiny mouths had bitten through him.
The kind of holes only Slayer
weapons could make. Not sharp. Not clean. Just… violent.
Papa never stood a chance.
For a moment I couldn't move. Or breathe. Or think.
I should've cried.
I should've screamed.
I should've done something.
But my body felt like it belonged to someone else. Someone older. Someone made of stone instead of skin.
I crouched beside him and touched his hand. It was like touching cold bark.
"I found you, Papa," I whispered. "I'm here now. I'm gonna take you home…
You can rest next to Mama."
It took all the strength in my small body, the help of Trevor and a few other wolves to drag him home.
His weight was too much, and I slipped twice on the ground, scraping my knees.
But I didn't stop. Couldn't stop. Every time my arms trembled, I clenched my teeth and pulled harder.
I talked to him while I dragged him.
Not because he could hear me. But because I needed to pretend he could.
"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry I wasn't there," I whispered. "I should've… I could've...
saved you"
Who was I kidding.
I would have failed, if I tried.
By the time I reached Mama's grave, my arms felt like fire and my lungs burned. The world tilted around me, but I kept going.
I dug beside her grave until the soil was soft enough. Every scoop of dirt felt like I was ripping something out of myself.
When the grave was ready, I lowered Papa in.
My hands shook.
My heart hurt.
But I didn't make a sound.
Not yet.
I covered him with soil.
Patting each layer.
Pressing it down.
Making it neat.
Making it right.
When I finished, I didn't know what to say.
What could I say?
That I failed both of them?
That Papa died because of Zefar?
That Aunt Geni died in vain?
Words didn't fit.
So I stood, walked the forest edge, and gathered wildflowers. Red, white, yellow, even some blue ones hiding under the shade.
My hands filled until petals spilled over my fingers.
I placed them gently over the fresh mound of earth.
A blanket of colors.
Something beautiful in a world that wasn't anymore.
And then, when I was done....
My knees gave out.
Thunder cracked so loud the air shook.
Rain began to fall—not a storm, not a flood, just a soft, cold drizzle that felt like the sky pitying me.
I raised my head to the sky and screamed.
And for the first time today…
I cried.
Not like a warrior.
Not like a prince.
Not like a man.
I cried like what I truly was.
A ten-year-old orphan,
who lost everyone loved today.
The rain hid my tears, but not from me.
Not from the forest.
Not from Mama or Papa.
I stayed there, kneeling in the mud, the flowers wilting under the drizzle, the thunder echoing like the my own heartbeat.
And I whispered the only thing I had left in me.
"I don't want to be alone."