Side Story 1.15: Saying Goodbye
Goodbyes are perhaps the cruelest words to swallow, especially when they're carved in stone by death itself. One moment you have someone by your side—laughing at shared jokes, arguing over trivial matters, breathing the same air—and the next, they're gone forever, leaving only echoes in the spaces they once filled.
With Christopher's recent death weighing heavy on their hearts from the battle they'd barely survived, the villagers found themselves drowning in collective grief. The atmosphere around their home had plummeted to an all-time low, suffocating in its intensity. Even their lingering injuries felt more excruciating now, as if the pain fed on their sorrow. Physical wounds may heal and form scars that fade with time, but the emotional devastation remains buried deep within, festering like an infection that never quite clears.
Everyone retreated into themselves, creating invisible barriers that no words could breach. Conversations died before they began. Some refused to eat, their appetite stolen by grief. This was especially true for those who had been slow to recover from their injuries—awakening to find their world forever changed, Christopher's absence a gaping wound in the fabric of their community.
August bore the heaviest burden of all. The young leader's mind had shattered under the crushing weight of guilt, each fragment cutting deeper than any blade ever could. His decision—his choice—had led to the death of one of their own. The responsibility sat on his shoulders like a mountain, threatening to bury him alive.
Now he carried wounds that ran deeper than any physical injury. No scars remained on his body; his SYSTEM and natural healing prowess had meticulously erased every trace of their hard-won battle. But what good were healed bones and mended flesh when his soul bled freely?
They had achieved victory, but at what devastating cost? The question haunted him, an endless loop of torment.
He found himself trapped in a prison of regret, where "what ifs" and "should haves" echoed endlessly through his fractured mind. Each thought was a fresh knife wound, each memory a reminder of his failure.
Yet even as his mind crumbled, his body moved with mechanical precision, driven by instincts carved deep into his very being. He exercised with hollow determination, hunted without passion, foraged without purpose, and tended their farms with empty hands. His body performed the motions of living while his consciousness remained elsewhere—occupied by burden, scarred by loss, and paralyzed by fear.
He wasn't truly functioning at all. None of them were.
But August knew that soon he would need to make a decision—one that would fundamentally reshape their daily existence. While the others slowly began their journey toward healing, he couldn't bear this crushing responsibility alone.
Some goodbyes would prove necessary in the days to come. But perhaps, just perhaps, they wouldn't be forever.