It was obvious, though. His eyes of emptiness enchanted me. Who would not be able to see those open eyes of emptiness and not feel driven towards them? That is how he collected us all into this new world. We all wanted to be the one to understand the emptiness and surpass it. We all wanted to be the one to bring meaning to the boy’s empty world.

But we had all failed, had we not? He still lived in a niche of his own, casting himself away from the community he had created. Nobody could break through his rigid core and embrace the innocence of the boy. He did not want us. We had failed.

But then why did Ember know of the boy’s whereabouts? I had spent four years wandering the new world without knowing where the presence of the boy resided, yet Ember knew in a moment’s time where the boy had always hid. Had Ember surpassed the rigid core? Why was Ember and his poetic riddles mean more to the boy than what I had to offer?

What did I have to offer?

As I raced throughout the wilderness I began to hear the sound of another wanderer. Assuming nobody new had entered our new world, I knew the sound had to belong to Maple or Thunder. Due to that, I slowed my pace to an idle walk and began to analyze my surroundings.

Suddenly silence creeped up on me and I felt lost as I searched for the source of the original sound. Then, without a single spoken word, the sharp tip of an arrow flew past my eyes, leaving my bangs to mess in the gentle wind that had been created. Instantly the arrow stabbed into the maple tree adjacent to where I stood.

“Sagitta mea, ostendit non metus.” Whispered the dark voice of Maple as he wrapped around the maple tree and placed his scarred right hand upon the trunk of the arrow.

“Translation?” I questioned as I looked into Maple’s dark, brave cedar eyes.

“To you: my arrow has no fear. However, direct translation follows: my wound is incurable, he showed no fear.” Maple hummed. His eyes then glided towards the sky while he released the arrow from the maple’s trunk. “Death isn’t to be feared, but life is to be enjoyed.” He grinned as the arrow’s trunk snapped under the pressure of Maple’s grasp.

“You’re starting to sound like Ember.” I stated with annoyance; however, Maple’s latin riddles deeply enchanted me similar to how the boy’s eyes enticed me.

“Then another: enim vivimus, mox ut aspicimus, non metu vivere. We live for life, we do not live for fear.” Maple stated with a true gleaming grin painted over his face.

Maple had been born into an unfortunate life destined for a premature death. His diagnosis had been muddled in his memory; however, he knew his whole life was destined for an abrupt end. A single trigger, which he had no knowledge of, would medically murder him. In addition to the fear of his traumatic end, he suffered a fear of hatred. Specifically, the hatred of his parents.