The forest fire roared behind him. The valley breeze was carrying the smoke to follow behind Caedus. The fire was spreading faster, chasing him like he was being hunted by it. It was fast. Faster than he originally thought, but that would be better for him. The larger the fire, the easier it would be for him and his grandfather to escape.
He kept up his pace, desperately weaving through the trees. 'I need to catch up to the other two before they get back to the river.'
Despite it being dark Caedus had a good idea where he was going since he had been hunting and exploring these woods for what seemed like his whole life.
Then he heard it off in the distance behind him. Barely over the roar and crackling of the fire were shouts of confusion. Knowing how close the shouts sounded behind him sent shivers down Caedus' spine. 'I guess I was pretty close to getting caught.'
Caedus' ran harder then he had ever run before. His legs ached. His lungs felt like they were on fire. His heart was pounding like a drum in his chest. But he had to keep moving. He had to keep running. The smoke was burning his eyes, but he couldn't afford to slow down. He needed to get to his grandfather.
Suddenly, Caedus spotted two familiar silhouettes quickly darting ahead of him. They weren't nearly moving as fast as he but it was enough for him to know they were running away from the orange glow of the fire that was snapping at Caedus' heels.
"There they are," he muttered through ragged breaths. Exhaustion was gnawing at him, but he forced himself to keep moving.
Summoning what strength he had left, Caedus dashed forward, closing the distance in seconds.
"Damn it, did Keith do something moronic? Why the hell is there a forest-"
Before the cultist could finish his complaint to his comrade, Caedus brought the hilt of his hunting knife crashing down on the man's skull with all the strength his arms allowed.
*crunch*
The sickening sound was followed by the man collapsing like a sack of potatoes. His body rolled lifelessly with the momentum.
"Jim!" The other shouted; panic was evident in his tone. He barely looked over his shoulder before seeing Caedus descend upon him.
Quickly and effectively, Caedus went for the neck, just like he did with Keith, and lodged his knife into his esophagus. Silencing him mid-breath.
Gasping for air, Caedus quickly removed his knife from the man's throat.
The smoke was getting thicker now. Caedus could almost feel the heat of the fire. There was no time to hesitate and admire his kill. Forcing his weary legs to move, he pushed forward into a run again, continuing his desperate attempt to reach his grandfather.
Caedus' vision was blurred as sweat and smoke stung his eyes. Each breath hurt. But he kept pushing. The roar of the fire wasn't as distant as it was before. He could feel the heat stinging his skin. It was a lot louder than Caedus would have imagined. Looking back from where he ran from, it looked like the world was ending. The fire consumed everything.
A pang of guilt twisted in his chest at the sight of his home burning, but he crushed it down. Survival was all that mattered now. The village was far enough from the blaze that its people could still escape. The wind was at his back, driving the fire in his wake, not toward them.
Then he heard it. A maniacal laugh that gave him goosebumps, coming from ahead of him.
Bursting through the last line of trees, Caedus stumbled onto the riverbank. Three bodies lay sprawled in the sand, blood pooling black beneath the pale moonlight. His chest clenched as his eyes scanned them. None was Jorah. None was Paul. Relief, sharp and fleeting, flickered through him.
"You fucking bastard!" A voice snarled from the water in the river.
*splash*
Caedus whipped his head in the direction of the noise. He saw a man with brown robes, kneeling and holding something under water. The moon gave the man a sinister look as he held something down. It was Paul.
'God damnit, where's Grandpa?!'
*splash*
Another splash sounded, and Caedus saw it. An arm and a leg came up from the water and seemed to desperately claw at the air.
Without a second thought, Caedus leapt into action.
"PAUL!" Caedus shouted with all his might, his voice echoing across the water. He dashed forward.
Paul turned his head, startled. He shot to his feet to defend himself, but Caedus didn't pause. Seeing there was no visible weapon in Paul's hands, he steeled himself, ready to reap another life.
At this point, Caedus looked quite scary himself. He might not have a crazed aura like Paul, but he was covered in soot and blood, making it look like he just crawled out of a battlefield. A terrifying sight that was accentuated in the moonlight and the orange glow in the distance.
Seizing the moment, Jorah burst forth out of the water, gasping for air.
Jorah didn't hesitate. He kicked out, causing Paul to lose his balance on the slippery, moss-covered rocks and tumble into the water. Jorah rolled over and pinned him, holding him down.
Paul struggled violently beneath Jorah, cold water splashing in all directions as his arms and legs thrashed in desperation. Caedus couldn't see Paul's face under the water, but if he were to imagine it, it would probably be a look of panic and rage.
Jorah's grip was unyielding. Clenching his teeth, he roared furiously while putting more force into holding Paul underwater. His arms were shaking violently, holding Paul under the water. Whether it was shaking from anger or fatigue or both, Caedus didn't put much thought into it. He knew his night was almost over. He was exhausted, but he still had to leave the valley. The valley was still on fire, but he just couldn't stop watching the perpetrator of his long night slowly stop thrashing underwater.
Caedus had a tired look in his eyes. He didn't show much emotion seeing this man suffer and die in this painful way.
After what felt like an eternity, Paul stopped struggling. Jorah didn't move, his arms still locked, holding Paul under the water.
Caedus approached his grandfather, his voice steady but urgent.
"Grandpa. We have to go."
Jorah finally looked up. His eyes were red, and tears were flowing down his cheeks.
"You brat... Why did you come back? And I am guessing that was you?" Jorah gestured to the fire engulfing the forest behind Caedus.
"Yeah. It was. There were other hunting parties, so I probably would have been caught if I kept going," Caedus admitted.
"I see… I guess it's fine then…" Jorah straightened with a grimace. Caedus' gaze fell to his grandfather's abdomen, and saw the blood-soaked gash marring his side.
"Grandpa! You're wounded!" Caedus exclaimed.
Jorah didn't respond and just walked toward Caedus. He had a sad and resigned smile on his face. He stumbled, almost falling over.
Without hesitation, Caedus moved closer, slipping an arm around Jorah's shoulders to steady him. Together, they made their way back toward the riverbank, the roar of the fire echoing behind them.
"Caedus," Jorah grunted, his voice strained from the exhaustion and pain.
"Don't say it, Grandpa." Caedus hissed his eyes sharp and urgent..
He quickly lowered his grandfather to the ground. The smoke from the nearing fire didn't sting his eyes anymore, and a gentle breeze reached him, giving him a breath of fresh air. It felt so soothing to him. He just wanted to rest, but he didn't falter. Sprinting toward the fallen cultists, Caedus tore a section of their robes that had remained untouched by blood, the fabric rough against his palms.
He dashed back to his resting grandfather. "Put pressure on it!" he ordered, handing Jorah a bunched-up ball of cloth.
Jorah winced but obeyed silently, his fingers trembling as he pressed against the wound. Caedus wrapped the remaining cloth tightly around his grandfather's midsection, fashioning a makeshift bandage as the smoke curled around them again, drowning the fresh air he had for a moment.
"Can you move Grandpa?" Caedus didn't look at Jorah when he asked this. He was incredibly anxious, so he glanced around him to be sure there was no danger besides the fire.
"If you help me. Maybe." Jorah said quietly. His voice was weak now.
Caedus looked at his grandfather in the face for the first time in what seemed like forever. He looked tired. He looked pale, and he looked like he was in pain. Yet beneath it all, Caedus saw something else etched into those tired features. Satisfaction.
Caedus rose, pulling his grandfather up with him. He slipped an arm firmly around Jorah's back, steadying his grandfather's faltering steps. And he began to walk in the direction opposite to the fire.
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Caedus didn't know how far he carried his grandfather. It seemed like hours before the fire was far enough behind him for him to rest. At last, the ground began to rise beneath his boots. He pressed on, dragging himself and his grandfather up the slope until they reached the crest of a hill.
There, he stopped. From the top of the hill, with his limp grandfather along side him, he overlooked the valley behind him. It was stretched out before him in its entirety. The once orange, red, and yellow forest was charred. With scattered fires littering the forest.
"Grandpa… we made it out," Caedus murmured, relief breaking through his exhaustion. He nearly collapsed as he lowered Jorah to the ground.
"Caedus." Jorah's voice was weaker then before, barely a whisper now.
"Grandpa, rest. I'll find you food and be right back," Caedus said quickly, forcing himself to stand.
"Caedus—listen!" Jorah rasped, his words cut off by a fit of coughing.
"Please. Grandpa." Caedus' voice cracked raw with emotion and desperation. Deep down he knew what was coming, yet he clung to hope, clung to the man he had fought so hard to save.
With what little strength he had left, Jorah gripped Caedus' wrist. His voice was hoarse, each word carrying the weight of his soul.
Caedus accepted the force his grandfather was exerting and knelt next to him. His shoulders were trembling and his cheeks began to feel hot from the tears rolling down his face.
"Aren't you proud of this old man? We avenged your parents. I can leave this world at peace… knowing your father and mother can finally rest. Now just live for yourself. Don't let my death dictate your life."
"Grandpa, I-"
"Stop." Jorah interrupted weakly. "Don't live your life for the sake of others. Be your own man. I lived a full life and you have grown up to be a fine young man. Promise me you will leave the valley. I am sure the Hollowed Earth cult probably won't exist after today."
Caedus' hands trembled as he held his grandfather closer. "I promise…" His voice cracked under the weight of grief.
A faint and weak smile crept across Jorah's face. "Good. Now let me rest… you damn brat… It's time for me to see… my son and daughter-in-law again…"
His hand, that Caedus was holding, slackened and for a long, heavy moment, Caedus felt the warmth slowly fade from his grandfathers body. His chest rose and fell on last time before becoming still.
Caedus fell back from his kneeling position. He silently stared at the valley from atop the hill where his grandfather said his last words to him. The valley was charred. A gentle breeze again swept up his hair, carrying ash and scattered leaves. The once, vibrant forest lay in ruin, smoldering and silent. An uncanny stillness stretched across the valley, a stark contrast to the chaos of the night. Caedus sat there for a long moment, taking in the devastation he had wrought upon his home, before a raw, anguished wail tore from his chest.
Caedus cried for a long while before his strength gave out and he passed out from exhaustion.
"Poor little Violetshade." A soft, feminine voice carried by the wind spoke sweetly and gently to the unconscious Caedus. "You are the last of you're family. Carry on the legacy proudly. Iridia will need you in the future."
As the words faded, a black orb materialized above Caedus, pulling him into its depths. His unconscious body vanished, leaving only his grandfather's still form and his ruined home behind.