Heat. Smoke. Blood.
The air reeked of iron and burnt wood, thick and suffocating as it clung to the ruins of the village. Ash fell like snow, coating the shattered remnants of homes, the lifeless bodies strewn across the ground, the dying embers of what once was.
Somewhere amidst the destruction, a small figure lay beneath a collapsed beam.
Asiro’s body screamed in agony. His limbs refused to move, his breath came in ragged, shallow gasps, and his face… his face burned. No, not just burned. Something was wrong. Something was missing.
His hands trembled as they crawled upward, fingers dragging across his cheeks, up toward his forehead… only to sink into raw, empty sockets where his eyes once were.
Pain surged through his skull, sharp and unbearable, as if hot needles were burrowing into his head. His stomach churned, bile rising in his throat, but he forced it down, choking on his own ragged breath. He couldn’t stop. Not now.
“M-Mother…” His voice was barely a whisper, cracked and hoarse.
She was here. She had to be. She wouldn’t leave him.
He pressed his palms against the rubble above him, pushing with whatever strength he had left. The beam barely budged. His body was weak… too weak… but he couldn’t stay here. If he stayed, he would die. If he stayed, he would never see her again.
With a strained, shaking breath, he forced himself to move.
His fingers scraped against the debris, nails cracking against splintered wood as he dragged himself forward inch by inch. Every motion sent fresh agony tearing through his body, his ribs stabbing at his lungs, his legs screaming in protest. But the pain didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except finding her.
The world around him was a blur of sounds and sensations, distorted and fractured. The crackle of burning timber. The distant groans of shifting wreckage. Somewhere, a single bird cawed… a sound too ordinary, too normal amidst the devastation.
His breath hitched as his palm pressed against something wet.
Blood.
The scent of it was thick, overwhelming, drowning his senses in copper and decay. He recoiled, his body convulsing with nausea, but he forced himself to keep going.
One arm forward. Then the other.
His body dragged itself through the ruin, blind, broken, and bleeding. His hands found cloth, torn and scorched. A body. He reached forward hesitantly, fingers trailing over cold, unmoving flesh. The shape was wrong. Too big. Too heavy. Not her.
He pulled away, heart pounding, panic creeping into his chest like a living thing. He had to find her.
A cough wracked his body, raw and painful, and the taste of blood filled his mouth. He couldn’t breathe. His lungs felt like they were collapsing, crushed beneath the weight of his injuries, his exhaustion, his fear.
He wasn’t going to make it.
No.
He clenched his teeth, pressing his forehead against the ground, forcing himself to focus. He somehow survived this long. He could survive a little longer.
He crawled forward, each movement more agonizing than the last, but then…
A sound.
Faint. Weak.
A breath.
His heart nearly stopped.
“…Mom?”
No response.
His hands scrambled forward, frantically searching, fingers trembling as they grasped at whatever they could reach. Cloth. Skin. Hair. Warmth.
She was there.
His breath came in shuddering gasps as he felt her, his hands shaking violently as they roamed over her body. She was hurt. Badly. Her ribs barely rose and fell beneath his fingertips, her skin too cold, her heartbeat...
He pressed his ear against her chest.
Faint. So faint.
Blood burned at the edges of his ruined eyes, slipping down his bloodstained cheeks. “Please… wake up…”
A slow inhale. Shallow. Weak. But there.
Then… her hand. It moved. Just barely.
“Asiro…”
His breath caught. Relief and terror tangled in his chest, suffocating him.
“I’m here,” he whispered, gripping her hand desperately, as if holding her tightly enough would stop her from slipping away. “I found you. I… ”
Her fingers curled, weakly, around his. Not enough strength to hold on, but enough to try.
She exhaled, a broken sound, barely a voice. “…My sweet boy…”
Something inside him cracked. “Don’t talk like that,” he choked out, shaking his head, his body trembling. “You’ll be okay. I’ll get help, I… ”
She shushed him softly, her fingers twitching against his own. “No more… tears…”
But how could he not cry?
There was barely any warmth left in her fingers.
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Asiro gripped her hand as tightly as he could, as if holding on would stop her from slipping away. His whole body trembled. His chest heaved, but there wasn’t enough air. His face was wet, his breath coming in short, gasping sobs.
“Mom…” His voice cracked. “Please… please don’t leave me.”
Her lips trembled, parted slightly as she fought to take in another breath. The effort alone looked painful. Every second dragged, her body clinging desperately to life... but Asiro could feel it. The way her hand was slipping from his. The way her fingers twitched but didn’t grip.
The way her life was fading.
“No,” he gasped. “No, you… You can’t… You can’t… ”
She shushed him softly, her lips barely moving. “Asiro…”
Her voice was so faint. So weak.
He pressed his forehead against her arm, squeezing his eyes shut... his empty, ruined sockets burned, but it was nothing compared to the pain inside his chest. It clawed at his ribs, crushed his lungs, threatened to drown him in the sheer weight of it all.
Why?
Why was this happening?
Why was he the only one left?
Why did she have to die?
A sob ripped through his throat. His hands trembled as he held onto her, gripping her wrist so hard he thought he might break it, but she still felt so… fragile.
She shouldn’t be like this.
She was strong. She was kind. She was supposed to live.
Her hand twitched again, weakly. His breath hitched when he felt her move, her fingers barely brushing against his wrist. But instead of gripping him, she pressed against his skin… right above his veins, as if searching for something.
A pulse.
A life.
His life.
A sudden warmth spread from her fingertips.
Asiro tensed. The warmth seeped into his skin, pulsing, flowing like a slow river, sinking into his blood, wrapping around his bones. It was weak at first. Faint. But then…
Light.
A soft, green glow flickered against the backs of his eyelids.
His body flinched, a strange tingling crawling over his skin. The warmth became something else. Something deeper. It filled his chest, rushing through his veins, winding around his heart, threading through the marrow of his bones. His breath hitched… his exhaustion, his pain, his burning, searing wounds… everything faded for a brief, fragile moment.
And then…
A spark.
A sudden, sharp pulse of power.
It struck him like a wave crashing against the shore, surging through every inch of his broken body. A strangled gasp tore from his throat as he convulsed, his fingers digging into his mother’s arm. His body arched against the ruined ground, a force pulling something out of him… no, into him… ripping through his veins, burning, filling, changing…
And then…
He saw.
A flicker. A flash.
Shapes. Motion. Color.
For the first time since the attack, since the agony of his world being torn away… he could see.
The light was blinding. Blurry. Overwhelming. Everything was shifting, pulsing, unstable, but it was there.
His mind reeled, his senses screaming, but before he could make sense of anything, his gaze locked onto her.
His mother.
Her body was glowing.
Faint tendrils of emerald light curled from her skin, wisps of energy leaking into the air like mist. It was beautiful, but wrong. So, so wrong.
Because it was leaving her.
Asiro’s stomach twisted.
She was giving it to him.
“No,” he rasped. His hands shot forward, grabbing her arms, trying to stop whatever was happening. “No, stop! Don’t… don’t do this!”
She only smiled. Soft. Sad.
There was so much warmth in her expression. So much love. But behind it… so much pain.
“Asiro,” she whispered.
He shook his head violently. “No! Please! You… You can’t… ”
Her fingers brushed his cheek.
Her touch was warm.
Then… she exhaled.
A slow, shuddering breath.
The light flickered. The warmth thinned.
Her hand slipped.
And Asiro felt it.
Her last breath.
Her final heartbeat.
The last thread of life that had held her together snapped.
Her body went still.
The light faded.
The warmth vanished.
And suddenly, Asiro was alone.
The silence that followed was deafening.
His mind refused to process it.
One second.
That was all it took.
One second, and she was gone.
His fingers trembled as they hovered over her face. Her eyes… so kind, so gentle, always so full of love… stared past him, empty.
Her chest didn’t rise.
Her lips didn’t move.
She was cold.
So, so cold.
And then, finally…
Asiro screamed.
After what felt like a lifetime.
Asiro’s fingers twitch.
His body is heavy. So, so heavy.
The cold seeps into his bones, the lingering warmth of his mother’s touch fading too quickly, slipping away like water through his fingers. His breath shudders as he stares down at her still face, the last embers of the green light flickering against the ruins of his world.
His mind refuses to process it.
She was here. She was alive. She was...
She was.
He swallows, but his throat is raw, scraped hollow by cries he doesn’t remember making. His chest tightens, lungs struggling to pull in air that suddenly feels too thin. His body trembles, the weight of everything pressing down on him, suffocating him.
She’s gone.
He wants to scream, but no sound comes. His lips part, but there’s nothing left inside him to give.
The last of the green light shimmers softly, flickering like a dying flame before fading into the dark.
And with it, something inside Asiro cracks.
His hands slip from hers. His arms feel too weak to hold on. His body, still raw from the brutal transfer of life energy, feels as if it no longer belongs to him. The ground tilts beneath him, the wreckage of his home blurring into meaningless shapes.
His head spins. His limbs feel sluggish, his breath uneven. The rush of strength he felt is gone, drained, leaving behind only exhaustion.
His vision sways. His breath shallows. His muscles slacken.
The edges darken. His knees buckle.
He crumples beside her.
The impact barely registers. The world feels distant, muted, like he’s floating somewhere outside of himself. The scent of blood, of fire, of death, lingers in the air, thick and suffocating. His fingers curl weakly against the dirt, but there’s no power left in them.
His heartbeat pounds in his ears, slower now. Weaker. His body is shutting down.
He wants to fight it. But should he?
What’s the point?
The world is gone. His mother is gone.
Why is he still here?
A single tear slips down his cheek, hot against his freezing skin. He barely feels it.
His eyes flutter shut.
The last thing he sees is his mother’s peaceful face, untouched by the ruin around her.
Then... darkness.
…
The village lay in silence.
Ash drifted lazily through the air, settling over the corpses, the broken homes, the smoldering wreckage of what was once a thriving place. Fires crackled softly in the distance, their light barely flickering in the thick, suffocating smoke. The stench of burnt wood, flesh, and blood clung to the air like a curse, stagnant and unmoving.
And amidst the ruin, a boy lay still.
His body was curled beside another… a woman, motionless, her features peaceful in death. Her outstretched hand, pale and lifeless, had once held his, but now it rested limply against the ground. There was no warmth left between them.
Then, footsteps.
Soft at first, barely audible beneath the gentle collapse of charred beams and distant embers. But they grew louder, steadier, breaking the eerie silence of the ruins.
Two figures moved through the wreckage, their forms shifting in the darkness. They stepped carefully, boots crushing burnt wood and shattered stone beneath them. The taller of the two walked ahead, his posture stiff, movements precise, his sharp gaze scanning the destruction. The second followed closely behind, smaller, their presence quieter but no less deliberate.
They stopped at the edge of the ruins, eyes drawn to the dying light that had guided them here.
The taller one exhaled, his breath a slow, measured sound in the stillness. His gaze fell upon the boy, studying the way he lay motionless, the rise and fall of his chest, the way his small hand remained just inches from the woman’s lifeless fingers.
He crouched, brushing his fingertips against the blood-streaked ground. It was still warm. The destruction had happened recently.
“He’s alive,” the smaller one murmured.