As the dawn progressed, Arin saw the village start to slowly change from the only way he'd ever seen it.
A few more of the villagers had awoken by then, and were sitting up weakly, huddled in their beds as healers checked upon their breathing and pulses. They merely listened in shocked silence as they were gradually told of what had befallen their village.
In the meantime, some volunteers had taken over the kitchens of the nearby houses, and thin spires of smoke were starting to rise from the chimneys as they utilized the gathered supplies and prepared light, easily digestible broths and nourishing soups.
A handful of people milled about the area in small groups of two or three, offering their help to anyone who might require it.
For the first time since Arin had seen Silvershade, the village had a breath of life in it.
And that was what made the deaths seem all the more jarring to him.
*
'You... you are savior Rin, aren't you?' asked a faint voice as he walked by some beds, carrying emptied trays away to be washed.
Arin halted his steps, glancing down to meet the dark eyes of a small, thin boy wrapped tightly in his sheets.
The child's face seemed familiar. But where -?
Arin realized with a jolt that he was looking down at one of the young village children he'd briefly met while still within the dream.
The ones whom Lana had taken him along to meet.
The ones who had been waiting in the estate gardens for Elara.
It seemed like an entire lifetime had passed since then, even though it had only been a couple of days in reality.
He'd barely recognized the emaciated face before him as the oldest of the lot; the twelve-year-old Karon, who'd only come along to accompany his younger brother, Kalen.
'Hi, kid,' he mumbled, setting down the trays and walking up to the child. Even before he could fully kneel down by the boy's side, bony arms shot out from underneath the sheets, and grasped at his clothes.
'You are real. I heard them say this past month was all a dream, but... you are real, sir Rin,' Karon said with some difficulty.
'I am, indeed.'
'You are a tower magician. You are a savior.'
'Ah...'
Arin felt too awkward to confirm those words.
The child didn't seem to care. Words kept spilling out of his mouth now.
'You are. You are here, and real, and - and powerful! So, please sir Rin, tell me; where is Kalen?'
Arin didn't say anything.
There was an almost frightening intensity in the small child's dark eyes. His grip on his clothes tightened.
'Please. Please. I see my parents in those beds yonder. They've said that they shall awaken soon. But, I am responsible for looking after my brother. My little brother, whom I cannot find at all. I cannot find Kalen, and no one will tell me where he is!'
Arin remembered the younger brother he spoke of; shy and small, the three-year-old had spent much of the time he'd known him, peering from his hiding spot behind Karon's back.
Kalen been one of the children who'd handed him flowers at the time.
There was a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as he looked at the boy, unable to tear his eyes away from his pleading face.
Arin himself had a younger brother, too. Back in his own world, he too had always seen himself as the one responsible for the younger boy's well-being while growing up.
He wanted to tell Karon he'd help him look, but... something held him back. For some reason, he wasn't quite sure whether it would be right for him to make such a promise.
'Please, sir, you know him. You've seen him! Help me look for him - ugh!' The child's words broke off as he started coughing weakly. At the sound, a nearby healer hurried over to them, immediately kneeling down by the mattress and pressing a hand upon the boy's chest.
Karon gasped once, before his breathing slowly calmed. His eyes fluttered, and his hands fell away from Arin's clothes as he slowly sank back into his bed.
'Please. Where is my little brother...?' he whispered as his eyelids shut. Within moments, the child was asleep.
Arin swallowed. He glanced up at the healer, who was pulling his hand away from the boy's chest.
'Do you -' his voice broke. 'Do you know where... his little brother...?'
The man before him shook his head sadly.
'The youngest of the twenty-one,' was all he said.
*
Arin gritted his teeth.
Even though he knew that the identities of all the deceased had been noted down, he'd finally gathered the courage to take a look underneath the covered mattresses for himself.
It was stupid, and useless. These were all the people he'd failed to save, and there was nothing he could do for them anymore.
Still, he'd made up his mind to at least take a look at their faces. Men and women, young and old. He wanted to commit them to memory.
Maybe his decision was rooted in some futile, yet romantic notion of acknowledging all the existences that had been cruelly cut short, and carrying on that knowledge for as long as he lived.
Or maybe, it had come from a desire to know enough to avoid any more confrontations with the bereaved.
He didn't know, and had decided he didn't want to think too deeply about it either way.
But when he finally steeled himself, and made his way over to the discreet corner where the bodies had been kept, he discovered that they were all gone.