The three continued walking through the mess that had once been their village. The streets were painted with blood, the air thick with ash and grief. Bodies lay scattered — some covered, some not.
The closer they got to the market, the heavier the smell became. Burnt wood. Iron. Death.
After a while, small stalls came into view — or what was left of them. The tables were overturned, fruit baskets crushed, fabric stands burned down to their poles. But amid all the ruin, there were people. Dozens of them.
The stalls weren't selling anything now — they were covered with the injured, wrapped in torn clothes and treated by trembling hands. In the center of it all was an old woman, her gray hair tied loosely, giving quick instructions to the villagers as she cleaned wounds.
Nova's eyes softened when he saw her. Even in this horror, something inside him eased — a faint flicker of warmth.
"Old lady Maela!" Nova called, rushing forward.
She turned at the familiar voice. Her eyes widened, and for a heartbeat, the wrinkles on her face lifted with relief. Then she dropped everything she was holding and ran to them.
"Nova! Mira! Oh—oh, thank the heavens!" She pulled the three into a trembling embrace. "I was so worried… I thought I lost you too…"
Haru smiled weakly. "Thanks for worrying about us, Maela."
When she pulled back, she scanned the three of them quickly, then frowned. "Where are the others. Where are Riku and Tama?"
Nova looked down. "Tama's fine. He's by the oak tree. But Riku…" His voice cracked. "Riku didn't make it."
Maela's lips parted in shock. Her hand flew to her mouth as tears filled her eyes. "No… that sweet boy… he was just a child…"
Nova took a deep breath. "He didn't just die. He saved people. A lot of them. He gave everything he had."
Maela bit her lip as he heard this, but the tears still slipped through.
"Miss Maela," Nova said, voice firm despite the ache in his throat. "Garil told me my father was injured — that you were treating those who got hurt. Please, do you know where he is?"
The moment he asked, Maela froze. The look in her eyes changed — not surprise, not fear, but a deep, quiet sorrow. The kind that said she already knew what he didn't.
"…Come with me," she finally said. Her voice was small. Tired.
They followed her through the crowd. The further they went, the quieter it got. The cries of the wounded faded, replaced by an awful stillness.
Then Maela stopped in front of a small shop — or what remained of one. Its signboard had fallen, and the windows were shattered. Inside, rows of bodies lay covered in sheets. Dozens. Maybe more.
Mira's hand tightened around Nova's. Her eyes darted across the room, fear creeping into every breath.
Nova felt his stomach twist. He didn't need to ask. He already knew.
"Brother…" Mira whispered, voice trembling. "What… what is this place…?"
Maela stepped forward. Her hands shook as she reached for one of the covered bodies near the corner.
Nova's throat went dry. He quickly placed a hand over Mira's eyes. "Don't look," he said softly. "Keep your eyes closed, Mira."
"Brother! Tell me!" Mira started crying, struggling against his grip. "Please! What's there?! Sob… Is father alive?! Please tell me he's alive!"
Nova couldn't answer. He couldn't even breathe. His chest felt like it was being crushed from the inside.
Maela hesitated, then with a trembling hand, pulled the sheet back.
Beneath it was a man — still, pale, covered in blood. His body was lined with countless cuts, each one deep enough to show how hard he had fought. His face was calm, but his eyes were half open, as if he hadn't finished what he wanted to say.
Nova's lips trembled. His vision blurred, his throat tight and heavy, refusing to let any sound out.
Haru lowered his head. He didn't cry — but the grief in his eyes said enough.
Maela's voice came weak and uneven. "He… he was hunting for work near the forest. Said he'd bring food before sunset. But then he saw the smoke, heard the screams… He didn't hesitate. He ran straight here."
Nova stood still. Completely still.
"He fought, Nova. He fought hard," Maela continued. "He and a few hunters tried to push the demons back — give others a chance to escape. He saved more people than I can count… but they were too strong. Even after getting cut over and over, he didn't stop. He… he didn't stop until his body couldn't move anymore."
Mira's sobs grew louder, echoing through the shop. Nova kept holding her, pressing her head against his chest, not letting her see.
"I tried my best to save him," Maela whispered. "I really did… but it was too late."
Silence fell.
For a long moment, no one spoke. Only Mira's cries filled the room.
Then Maela took a shaky breath. "Before he passed, he said something… He wanted me to tell you, Nova. He said there's something beneath the table at home. Something he left for you."
Nova kept starting at his father's body, his lips shaking and tightly shut, as if trying to stop himself from screaming.
"He also said… not to hate them for hiding it. And to forgive them. And to keep taking care of Mira."
Nova's expression didn't change. The words didn't sink in — not fully. He thought maybe it was just about the coins they'd hidden before. Forgiveness… maybe for leaving them behind.
But the moment Maela said "his dying words", something inside him shattered.
He clenched his fists. His breath broke. His knees weakened.
Even his father… just like his mother… had wanted to speak with him before dying.
Nova's chest heaved as he bit down hard on his lip, trying to stop the sound rising in his throat. His eyes burned, the tears pressing against the edges.
Then one slipped out. Just one tear, rolling slowly down his left cheek.
That was all it took.
He dropped to his knees, clutching Mira tightly as the dam inside him broke.
"Why…" His voice cracked. "Why did you have to go too…?"
He cried — loud, raw, and endless. Mira buried her face into his chest, her tiny hands clutching his shirt as her sobs joined his.
Maela stood there silently, her own tears falling as she watched the two cling to each other — the last pieces of a family shattered by fate.
The world outside continued to burn.
But inside that little shop, beneath the weight of silence and grief — two hearts broke together, for the man who fought till his last breath.