The moons came and went, but in Lycaon's world, time had stood still since that fateful night.
He had become a part of the fringes of the Labyrinthos Forest. A lurking phantom, a wounded beast that even other animals avoided. He lived, if this flickering existence could be called living.
Hunger was just a mechanical contraction in an empty stomach. He used his calloused, broken-nailed fingers to dig through the damp earth under a rotten log to find a few earthworms, then put them in his mouth and chewed impassively. They had no taste, just like the dewdrops he licked from leaves each morning, just like the bitter roots he had to chew until his jaw ached. He ate only so that this body would not collapse.
His clothes were just filthy rags, clinging to his flesh. The left half of his face was a lumpy, contracted mass of burn scars, making his left eye seem permanently squinted in a perpetual grimace of pain. His broken leg had healed crookedly, making every step an agony. His eyes were empty, a bleak grey.
Occasionally, a sudden stimulus would drag him back to hell. A sunbeam piercing through the leaves would recall the fire. The sharp crack of a dry branch would become the sound of a shattering roof beam. The images, sounds, and smells would flood back, but he would not scream. He would just sit motionless, his body tensed, enduring the torment of memory until it passed.
One cold, drizzly night, the loneliness and the pain, both physical and mental, reached a breaking point. He sat by a stream, looking at his reflection in the water—a monster. Death appeared as a sweet release, a way to end this earthly nightmare. He wanted to be reunited with them.
He slowly stepped into the icy water, letting it swallow him.
But in that very moment, Lyra's cry from that horrific night echoed in his head, so clearly he thought it was right beside him. "Big brother, save me!"
He suddenly realized. If he died, her cries would die with him. The memory of his father, his mother, of Aella, of Lyra... would vanish forever. There would be no one left in this world who knew they had ever existed, had ever loved, and had been so cruelly taken away.
He didn't live for revenge; his will was broken. He lived "not to forget." He was the last witness, the living tomb of his entire family. He had to keep breathing, just to keep their memory from being erased from the world.
He staggered out of the water, collapsed onto the muddy bank, curled up, and wept without a sound.
After finding a reason to exist, however tragic, he continued his aimless life. One day, he wandered into some old ruins and witnessed a girl surrounded by a group of hungry, aggressive wanderers.
He intended to walk away. But then he saw one of the wanderers snatch a small wooden bird from the girl's neck and throw it to the ground. "Useless thing!" the man roared, then raised his foot, about to crush it.
In that instant, the image of Lyra's straw doll, the image of his family's destruction... exploded in his mind.
The protective instinct of an older brother, though buried under layers of ash, rose again. He charged. His attack was swift and brutal. He was a beast, not a warrior. He used a sharp-edged rock he found in the rubble, aiming for the most vital points to end the threat.
When it was all over, he returned to his soulless state. He intended to leave.
"Wait..."
The girl's voice, faint and trembling, called out. He spun around, his eyes flashing with a savage look.
The girl, though terrified, still recognized that he too was a victim. She saw the blood seeping from his old wounds. The compassion of a fellow survivor overcame her fear. She tore a strip of cloth from her old dress.
She approached cautiously. When Lycaon growled like a wounded animal, she stopped. She just stood there, holding out the clean piece of cloth toward him. A simple, wordless gesture, yet it held pure care.
Lycaon froze.
For the first time in a long, long time, an emotion other than pain and emptiness—a flicker of surprise, of disbelief—crept into his deadened mind.
In his grey, bleak world, a speck of color suddenly appeared.