The final hour

The one that come before

Cale's gaze lingered on the empty wine bottles scattered before him, his trembling hand reaching for yet another sip of the bitter liquid. He couldn't pinpoint the exact moment when his reliance on alcohol had begun, but it had been a constant companion for far too long. It was the eve of his departure from this world, this life, and this family. He let out a deep, melancholic sigh.

As he stared out of the window, a blanket of stars shimmered above, casting their ethereal glow upon the world below. It was a breathtakingly beautiful night, but all Cale could recall were the memories of death, the haunting images of blood-soaked landscapes, and the suffocating clouds of smoke that had choked his past.

Cale released another heavy sigh, his heart weighed down by the burden of his existence. He slowly rose from his seat and made his way to the balcony door. With a heavy heart, he pushed it open and stepped out onto the balcony, overlooking the tranquil Henituse County below. At just 18 years old, he found himself estranged from his own people, an outcast in his own right.

The isolation and despair that clung to him were unbearable, yet he had grown accustomed to the pain. It was fine, he thought, as he stood alone on that balcony, a solitary figure under the starry night sky, drowning in a sea of sorrow.

Cale's sigh deepened as he gazed at the moon, its cold, distant light mirroring the emptiness within him. Once, in the northeastern part of the Roan Kingdom, within the Henituse Territory, there existed a red-haired child, a living embodiment of beauty, intelligence, and charm that rivaled his mother's. He basked in the love of his doting parents, who cherished him beyond measure. The people of the territory and their loyal servants adored him as well. He was a radiant, joyous presence, like the sun itself, illuminating the lives of all who knew him. His magnetic charisma drew people to him like moths to a flame.
But that child, the shining sun of yesteryear, was no more. The warmth in his heart had long since been extinguished, replaced by a relentless darkness that consumed his very essence. The memories of happier days now felt like a cruel joke, mocking him from the depths of his despair.
Cale, the once-beloved child, stood alone under the moon's cold gaze, a stark contrast to the radiant boy he had once been. The weight of his own existence pressed down upon him, and his loneliness was a constant companion in the desolate night.

Cale's past was filled with simple pleasures and stolen moments of childhood mischief. He had a penchant for sneaking into the kitchen, hoping to pilfer cookies and sweets, only to be thwarted by Ron, the ever-watchful butler, or his son. Amidst his playful antics, he cherished the anticipation of spending time with his family, and his smile could outshine even the brightest star.
But the light in Cale's life was extinguished on a fateful day. A day that began with relentless raindrops, each tear from the heavens a harbinger of sorrow. In his eighth year, his mother, Jour, ventured to Harris Village for a simple errand. It was just the flu—a mere cold, or so they thought. Yet, it proved enough to snuff out her fragile flame.
Jour, though often frail, had always held herself with a determined strength, her back straight, and her spirit unyielding. Her sudden demise shattered the tranquility of the county. Their beloved countess had been taken from them, leaving a void that no amount of mourning could fill. Deruth, her grief-stricken husband, couldn't bear to face the sight of his lifeless wife and succumbed to his sorrow.
Amidst the somber rain and the scent of fading sweets, Cale stood in numb shock. His expression, once bright as the starry sky, had dulled to a lifeless, empty gaze. The world had lost its luster, and the rain that had once been a gentle friend now seemed to weep in tandem with his heart, mourning the loss of a beloved mother and a stolen childhood innocence.

Cale clung to the haunting echo of his mother's final words, which had been imprinted deep within his soul: "You must survive whatever happens. Survive anything, and happiness will follow. Survive and be content."

Each tear that flowed down his cheek was a reminder of a terrible memory of the agony that had engulfed his life. He felt the weight of her unmet longing, the agony of his own existence, and the crushing responsibility of surviving in a world devoid of happiness. The tears were no longer just beads of grief; they were rivulets of unyielding misery, a waterfall of despair that threatened to drown him in the never-ending storm of his existence.

Jour's funeral had come and gone, a grand display of insincere condolences from people across the kingdom. They wore fake smiles and offered hollow kindness, driven by their ulterior motives to position their own daughters and sisters as the next countess. Meanwhile, Deruth and Cale, the forsaken duo, stood in solitude before her casket. Deruth's anguished cries reverberated through the air, his pain too deep to conceal. Cale, the young child, held his father's trembling hand, trying to be the pillar of strength he thought his father needed.
"Father, it's okay. I am still here," young Cale whispered, enfolding his grieving father in his feeble embrace. His own tears welled up, but he fought to suppress them, bearing the weight of his own grief while consoling his beloved parent.
The day of Jour's burial arrived, and Cale remained a statue, devoid of emotion.