The Wind and the Solitude

The wind slashed across the desolate fields, carrying the scent of burnt earth mixed with something older—a memory of death. Lucas walked in silence, each step sinking into stagnant dust, as if he were marching over the ashes of time.

The world around him was an endless twilight. No color. No music. Only a worn-out horizon where even the light seemed to have given up.

He no longer knew how many days had passed. Perhaps months. Perhaps just accumulated delirium. Time, like pain, had become background noise.

"The farther I walk, the less I recognize myself..."

The night's cold came like a reminder of what he had lost. And still, he kept walking. For the promise. For the bracelet. For her.

The Ghost Village

When the landscape changed, it was like crossing an invisible threshold.

The ruined town rose among the hills, with crooked buildings and windows like hollow eye sockets. There was no color, no scent. Only the silence of those who had long since stopped asking for help.

Lucas stopped. His heart tightened for no apparent reason. Or perhaps for all of them.

He had walked through destroyed villages before. There were always rats, wind, the broken shards of voices in the air. But here... there was nothing. Not even the illusion of presence.

A subtle movement snapped him out of his inertia. In an alleyway, a small figure. A child.

Fragile. Pale. Eyes lost in the void.

Lucas took a hesitant step. Something inside him trembled. Clara. It was like looking at the echo of his daughter.

But then, a shadow leapt from the dark and grabbed the girl, pulling her into a broken house. A man.

His eyes locked with Lucas's for a second.

"Stay away from her!" the man's voice trembled. "You... you're the demon from the south!"

Lucas froze.

He was about to answer. Deny it. But the dried blood on his clothes, the weight of his presence, the echo of what he had done... all of it screamed before he could.

The man disappeared, and the door slammed shut.

Lucas remained there. Silent. The wind passed through him as if he wasn't even there.

"I'm not a monster..."

But even he didn't believe it. Something inside him twisted. For a moment, the Abyss brushed against his shoulder like an old friend.

A shadow flickered behind him. Quick. Almost playful.

Lucas turned. Nothing.

Only the void.

The Fire in the Forest

The forest didn't feel alive. It was a graveyard of trees that still breathed.

Branches like claws. Trunks like twisted faces. Light barely pierced through, and when it did, it was cold.

Lucas walked in silence, eyes tired, body heavy. But the smell of smoke reached him before he saw it.

Smoke... and burnt wood.

A clearing. And a fire.

There, sitting by the flames, an old man. Rags, long beard, eyes burning like live embers.

Lucas stopped.

Something felt wrong.

"May I... sit?"

The old man stirred the fire with a stick. Silent.

Then he nodded with a barely noticeable gesture.

Lucas sat down.

He offered a piece of dry bread. The old man accepted without a word. Just chewed it, like someone remembering the taste of time.

The fire crackled between them.

"The pain that guides you is the same that condemns you..." said the old man, staring into the flames.

Lucas closed his eyes.

"My daughter... she was taken from me."

The words came out broken. More a sob than a sound. The old man just listened. He didn't judge. He didn't offer comfort.

"I did things..." Lucas continued, "things I can't even justify. But if it's the price to go back..."

The old man cut him off:

"And if, when you return, she no longer recognizes you?"

Lucas stayed silent.

The old man smiled, but it was a twisted smile, like that of someone who lost everything and laughs at his own ruin.

"I once carried that burden. Thought I could conquer the world. Thought I could come back with enough power to turn back time. But time... time is the worst enemy."

He shoved the stick deeper into the coals. The flames rose as if they heard him.

Lucas murmured:

"What price is left to pay?"

The old man replied without looking at him:

"The more you desire... the more the Abyss shapes you. Until one day, you look in the mirror and see no one at all."

Lucas leaned forward.

"I'm willing."

The old man chuckled. A dry sound, almost a whisper.

"You don't need to be. The path has already accepted you."

A gust of wind swept through the clearing.

The flames danced.

Lucas blinked.

The old man was gone.

Only the fire remained. And the shadows around it, motionless, seemed to listen to his every thought.