The morning light filtered weakly through the wooden shutters, soft against the scars of Kael's nightmares. His body ached with every breath, but the ache in his chest was far heavier. The small ring lay heavy in his palm, a tangible link to the mother he had just lost.
He whispered to himself, voice trembling:
"Why… why did I survive? Why her… and not me?"
"You should eat something," a voice said, firm yet calm.
Kael flinched at the sound and slowly turned his head. For the first time, he looked at the old man who had been sitting quietly in the shadows. His face was lined with age, but his eyes were sharp, observant, and kind. Though he carried the weight of authority, there was no cruelty in his gaze.
"I… I don't feel like eating," Kael whispered, his throat tight.
The man's tone grew firmer, almost harsh. "Are you going to waste your mother's sacrifice by doing nothing? Sit here and let your life slip away? You have much more to live for, child."
Kael's fingers clenched the ring, knuckles white. "But… I couldn't protect anyone. My family… they were… ripped apart right in front of me. I'm the only survivor. Why… why did you save me?"
The old man's expression softened slightly, but his voice remained steady. "Kael, you were saved by chance."
Kael's eyes widened. "What… what do you mean?"
The chief, took a deep breath. "A group of mercenaries was patrolling the area when they saw your village in flames. They witnessed the dragon flying away and went to investigate. Two of them were sent ahead to Kaljun village, while I sent five of my own villagers as scouts to assess the damage and look for survivors."
Kael swallowed hard, trying to grasp the words. "And… they found me?"
"Yes," Eldrun continued. "The scouts saw the remains of the villagers… the dead beasts… the destruction left behind. Among the ruins, one of the mercenaries was carrying you out of what was left of your home. You were unconscious, barely breathing. He handed you to one of the scouts and said: 'Bring this boy back to Kaljun. Make sure he lives.' And that is how you survived."
Kael's chest tightened. "By… chance?" His voice trembled. "That's why I'm alive?"
"Yes," Chief said gently. "It was chance, nothing more. And now you are alive, Kael, and that is all that matters."
Kael's gaze fell to the ring in his hand, tears streaming freely. "And… you… you took me in."
Chief nodded. "I did. Because you are alive now, it is my responsibility to see that you recover. Eat, heal, and grow stronger. You honor your mother not by giving in to despair, but by living. That is what you owe her—and yourself."
Kael's chest heaved. The raw ache of loss pressed against his heart, yet a faint ember of resolve flickered. "I… I'll try," he whispered, voice fragile but determined.
Chief placed a steady hand on his shoulder. "Good. Tomorrow, you will take your first steps again. Slowly. Step by step. And when the time comes, you will train. You will survive, Kael. That is the first step in honoring your mother."
Kael nodded slowly, tightening his grip on the ring. Outside, faint sounds of Kiljun stirred—the laughter of children, the murmuring of villagers, the steady strike of a blacksmith's hammer. Life went on, relentless yet persistent.
Kael understood something vital for the first time since that night: he must endure. He must survive. And one day, he would return—not as the helpless boy who watched his world burn, but as someone capable of confronting the darkness that had taken everything from him.