Venge

Ch 8

Ezra's POV: 

The wind dances around us, its playful whispers tousling our hair as we stand together atop the familiar mountain peak. Its cool touch offers a fleeting respite from the weight of our burdens, a gentle reminder of simpler times.

In the soft laughter that spills from her lips, I find a fleeting echo of a long-forgotten melody, a cherished memory of moments shared in this sacred place. Here, on this precipice overlooking the world below, we once sought refuge in each other's company, finding solace amidst the chaos of life.

Together, we'd spend countless hours tracing shapes in the billowing clouds, collecting vibrant flowers, and marveling at the intricate beauty of nature's creations. Oh, Mother, how I long for those carefree days, for the warmth of your presence beside me.

But then darkness descended upon our lives like a shroud, shattering our idyllic existence in an instant. I wish I could have been stronger and shielded you from the horrors lurking in the shadows. But I was just a child, powerless to protect you from the storm ravaging our lives.

I remember the day everything changed with painful clarity. Bursting into your room, eager to share another adventure, I was met with a sight that would haunt me forever. Your lifeless form hung before me, a cruel testament to the cruelty of fate. It was the day my world crumbled, the day I realized I couldn't save you.

And now, as I stand here once more, the echoes of that loss reverberate in my soul. History threatens to repeat itself as Aya walks a path perilously similar to yours. The sight of blood stains the air, a grim reminder of the fragility of life and the inevitability of fate.

Dear Mother, if only I could turn back time if only I could rewrite the script of our lives. But such wishes are but whispers carried away on the wind, lost to the unforgiving currents of time. All I can do is carry your memory with me, a beacon of light in the darkness that surrounds me.

Now I sit in our favourite spot as I think about all this. The cool wind hits my face but it's not as playful anymore. It seems all the colour has been washed out. Someone has painted this picture gray and now it may be like this forever. 

Aya, your story remains a mystery to me, but I trust that you have your reasons for your actions. Yet, amidst this tempest of emotions, there stands Lily, a beacon of innocence in the midst of chaos. She's just a little girl, undeserving of the turmoil that surrounds her. Lily never had the opportunity to forge a bond with our mother, robbed of that chance before she even had the opportunity to grasp it. That's why, to her, the number of mothers mattered little; she was simply grateful to have one at all.

As the sun dips below the horizon, casting the world in hues of amber and gold, I find myself drawn back to reality, the weight of my memories heavy upon my shoulders. With a sigh, I push myself to my feet, the crunch of gravel beneath my boots a stark reminder of the present moment.

Turning away from the mountain peak, I cast a final glance over my shoulder, the fading light painting the landscape in a soft, ethereal glow. Then, with a determined stride, I set off down the winding path, my thoughts consumed by the events that have unfolded and the challenges that lie ahead.

As I approach the infirmary, the soft glow of lamplight spills from the windows, casting long shadows across the path. With a steady hand, I push open the door, the scent of antiseptic mingling with the faint aroma of herbs and potions that permeate the air.

Inside, the room is quiet, save for the soft murmur of voices and the occasional shuffle of footsteps. Aya lies motionless upon the bed, her eyes closed in peaceful slumber, her features softened by the gentle glow of the lamplight.