The crunch of gravel beneath my boots slowed as I approached the cabin, the rifle slung over my shoulder and the small toy clutched in my hand. 

The weight of the emberstone in my pocket felt heavier than usual, its warmth barely noticeable through the thick fabric of my pants. 

The familiar outline of the house stood quietly against the fading light, its wooden walls weathered but sturdy. 

My breath hung in the air, each exhale a soft cloud as I climbed the steps to the porch.

I paused for a moment, my hand on the door, the feeling of being home both comforting and strange after everything that had happened. 

With a deep breath, I pushed the door open and stepped inside.

“I’m home.” 

I called softly, the words feeling almost foreign on my tongue after so long.

The warmth I expected wasn’t there. 

Instead, a sickening stench filled the air, thick and suffocating. 

My heart skipped a beat, and dread settled deep in my gut. 

Something was wrong—very wrong.

The moment I stepped inside, my eyes caught sight of her. 

Aime, my sweet little sister, sat by the hearth, her back to me. 

Too still. My heart raced, and my breath caught in my throat. 

My rifle slid off my shoulder, clattering loudly to the floor. I didn’t care.

 I ran toward her, adrenaline surging through my veins.

In my haste, I threw the toy aside with my rifle, the Kaldrith figure tumbling across the wooden floor, forgotten in an instant.

“Aime?” 

I whispered, panic rising in my chest. 

I knelt beside her, my hands trembling as I reached out. 

Her black hair was tangled, her blue eyes wide open, and in her lap lay her wooden dolls—the ones she loved. 

“Aime?”

 My voice cracked. 

I placed a hand on her shoulder, and the second I touched her skin, I recoiled. 

She was ice cold.

“No, no…” 

I muttered, grabbing her small frame, pulling her into my arms. 

Her body was stiff, lifeless, like a fragile doll. 

“Aime, wake up, please…” 

I shook her gently, tears threatening to spill. 

“Please…” 

Her head lolled to the side, her eyes vacant, staring at nothing. 

My chest tightened so painfully I could barely breathe.

The doll I’d brought for her slipped from my fingers, forgotten. 

I clutched her close, rocking her back and forth, desperate for any sign of life, but there was none. 

Just the unbearable cold that clung to her skin.

“Aime, no… no…” 

I whispered, laying her down carefully on the floor, my vision blurring. 

I blinked furiously, refusing to cry. 

I had to hold it together. 

But when I turned, the horror deepened. Ives, my brother, lay crumpled near the doorway.

“Ives!” 

I scrambled over to him, my heart pounding in my ears. 

I grabbed his arm, pulling him toward me. 

He was as cold as Aime, his body stiff, his skin pale.

 “No… no, please…” 

I choked out, shaking him, hoping for some sign, some movement. But there was nothing. 

He was gone.

My breath came out in ragged gasps, but I couldn’t stop. 

My legs barely held me as I forced myself up, stumbling toward my father’s room. 

I shoved the door open, my hand shaking. 

He lay there, motionless, his eyes wide open, staring blankly at the ceiling. 

His skin was the same frozen color.

“Papa…” 

I whispered, my voice barely a breath. 

My knees gave out, and I crumpled to the floor.

Suddenly, a faint sound caught my attention, something rustling. 

I blinked, my tear-filled vision clearing just enough to see movement—small, vile creatures creeping around the bodies. 

Furrots. 

They were feeding on them. 

My heart lurched in horror.

“No!” 

I hissed, my fingers scrambling for my rifle. I grabbed it and squeezed some arcane flux into my hand, twisting the essence into it, making it twice as sharp as I had ever before. 

I loaded it into the chamber, cocking the rifle with shaking hands. 

My breaths were ragged, fury and disgust overtaking the grief for a brief moment.

One of the furrots, a twisted little creature with beady eyes, slunk closer to Aime’s body, its filthy claws ready to tear at her.

“Get the fuck away!” 

I shouted, and pulled the trigger.

The shard fired with a crack, striking the creature dead center. 

It let out a shriek and toppled over, its body twitching. The other furrots screeched and scrambled, darting out of the house in a frenzy, scattering into the snow outside.

I stood there, the echo of the shot ringing in my ears, the rifle heavy in my hands. 

My entire body trembled.

I turned away from Aime, from Ives, from the frozen emptiness that surrounded me, but it didn’t matter. Their faces lingered in my mind, haunting me. 

I clenched my jaw, trying to steady myself, to push away the rising tide of nausea. 

But my stomach churned violently, twisting and heaving as if it couldn’t bear the reality of the scene before me.

Suddenly, it erupted out of me, the bile rising fast and burning my throat as I doubled over. 

I barely made it to the side before it spilled onto the floor, a bitter reminder of my utter despair. 

I retched again, my body convulsing as sobs tore from my chest.

I fell back against the wall, the cold wood grounding me momentarily as I gasped for air. 

My hands trembled violently, and I fought to regain control, but the memories played on repeat—Aime’s laughter, Ives’ teasing grin, my father’s comforting embrace. 

Each thought crashed over me like a wave, dragging me deeper into despair.

With trembling hands, I gathered Aime’s small body into my arms, holding her against my chest as if I could somehow warm her back to life. 

The weight of her stillness was unbearable, a crushing reminder of everything. 

I pressed my face into her hair, inhaling the faint scent of her innocence, but it was tainted now with the chill of death.

Sobs wracked my body, raw and guttural, echoing off the walls of our home. 

I held her tighter, wishing I could shield her from this cruel reality, wishing I could turn back time.

But time was an unforgiving force, and I was powerless against it.

Then, with a surge of grief so profound it felt as if my heart might burst, I let out a scream that practically tore my throat open.

“I’m so sorry…I'm so…so..so…sorry…”

My cries faded into the silence, leaving only the echo of my sorrow in the air. 

I felt as if I were in a nightmare from which I couldn’t wake, but I had to move. 

I had to know. 

With shaky legs, I forced myself to stand and stumbled toward my father’s room.

As I pushed open the door, the dim light revealed a scene that struck me cold again. 

My father lay on the bed, his face ashen and lifeless. 

My heart ached anew, but something caught my eye. 

On the table next to his bed lay a letter, neatly folded.

With trembling fingers, I reached for it, the paper feeling both foreign and familiar in my grasp. 

Without thinking, I stuffed the letter into my pocket.

I knew I had to get outside, to breathe, to escape the suffocating darkness within those walls. 

Cradling Aime’s small body in my arms, I pushed through the door, the cold wind biting at my skin as my cloak whipped around me.

Gently, I laid Aime down on the ground, my heart heavy as I stepped back to look at her one last time. 

The stark white of the snow contrasted sharply with the deep sorrow in my chest. 

I knelt beside her and reached for the delicate hair clip, the one adorned with tiny crystals that sparkled even in the dim light. 

Carefully, I unclipped it from her hair, my fingers trembling as I placed it in my own.

With a deep breath, I dropped to my knees, claws of despair digging into the frozen earth as I began to claw at the ground, desperately trying to create a grave for my little sister. 

Each scrape of my fingers against the hard ground sending pain shooting through me, but I didn’t care. 

I had to do this.

Hours passed as I dug, my fingers numb and raw, the wind howling around me as I clawed at the dirt.

Aime’s grave slowly took shape, and with each scoop of dirt, I felt more of my hope slipping away. 

I was still clawing at the earth when I realized Aime wasn’t the only one lost; Ives lay cold and still in the other grave, and soon after, I placed my father in the last one, all of them taken from me in a blink of an eye.

When I finally finished, I gathered a few sticks, pushing them into the snow to mark their graves. 

I couldn’t bear to leave Aime’s toy behind, so I gently placed it on top of her grave, a small token of love for the sister I had failed to protect.

As I stepped back, emptiness flooded through me, and the weight of sorrow and despair pressed down harder than ever. I felt hollow, as if my heart had been ripped from my chest, and a bitter blame gnawed at my insides. 

I took a shuddering breath, fighting the urge to scream into the howling winds.

 Before leaving the grave, I reached down, my fingers brushing against the cold, smooth surface of the Kaldrith toy. 

With the toy clutched tightly in my hand, I turned away from the makeshift graves, the wind biting at my skin and tugging at my cloak. 

Each step felt heavy, the weight of my loss urging me to stay, to wallow in my grief, but I knew I had to keep moving. 

“Ryu…”