~ Powers of Nations: A Countryhumans Chronicle

▶Chapter:45◀

The chapter:

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◦•●◉✿ 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑠 ✿◉●•◦

3rd person pov:

The morning light filtered softly through the curtains as Russia and Soviet enjoyed breakfast together. The aroma of freshly brewed tea mingled with the scent of warm pastries, creating a comforting atmosphere in the kitchen. They shared a quiet meal, a rare moment of peace in their tumultuous lives.

As they finished their breakfast, Russia cleared the table and began to tidy up. He glanced over at Soviet, who was finishing his tea with a contented sigh.

“Papa,” Russia said, his voice light with the hope of a pleasant morning, “it’s a beautiful day outside. Would you like to join me in the garden?”

Soviet looked up with a warm smile, reaching over to gently squeeze Russia’s hand. “I’ll come out to join you in a bit,” he replied. “Go ahead and enjoy the garden. I’ll follow soon.”

Russia nodded, his heart lifting at the promise of shared time. He stood and cleared the remaining dishes, then made his way to the garden. The garden was a sanctuary of tranquility, a place where the vibrant colors of blooming flowers and the soft hum of bees provided a soothing contrast to the challenges of life.

Russia spent the next few hours tending to the plants, finding solace in the rhythm of gardening. He was lost in his work, the sun warming his back as he carefully pruned and watered the flowers. The garden, which had always been a shared haven, now felt a touch lonely without Soviet’s presence beside him.

As the sun reached its zenith, Russia looked toward the house, expecting to see Soviet coming out to join him. But when time passed and his father did not appear, unease began to creep into his heart. He wiped his hands on a cloth and headed back inside, calling out, “папа? Are you coming?”

The house was eerily silent as Russia searched through the rooms. His calls grew more frantic as he moved from room to room, his heart racing with anxiety. “папа! Where are you?”

When he reached Soviet’s room, he was met with a sight that made his breath catch in his throat. Soviet lay motionless on the bed, an unnatural stillness hanging in the air. Russia’s heart pounded as he rushed to his father’s side, shaking him urgently. “папа! Wake up! Please!”

But Soviet did not stir. Russia touched Soviet’s cold skin, his world collapsing around him as he realized the harsh truth. Soviet was gone. The pain was overwhelming, and Russia felt as though his very soul was being torn apart. His skin began to change, the colors shifting in a distressing mimicry of the Russian flag- red, blue and white-, a physical manifestation of his emotional turmoil. The sensation was like searing pain, as if his skin were burning under the weight of his grief and the loss he felt.

Despair washed over him as he sank to his knees beside the bed. His cries of anguish filled the room, a raw and heartbreaking sound. He tried to calm himself, reaching out to gently close Soviet’s eyes. The finality of the gesture only deepened his sorrow.

Wandering through the house, Russia was surrounded by memories of happier times. The once-comforting spaces now seemed hollow and filled with echoes of the past. He found solace in the ushanka Soviet had given him, a tangible connection to his father. He put on the hat, feeling its weight as a symbol of the bond they had shared.

Gathering his resolve, Russia called for the men who had served Soviet. “Please, I need your help,” he said with a steady voice, despite the tears that threatened to fall. The men arrived and respectfully carried Soviet’s body, their presence a small comfort amidst the grief.

As Russia prepared for the next day’s events, he wore the ushanka as a tribute to his father, its colors a poignant reminder of Soviet’s legacy. With his siblings' arrival pending, Russia faced the uncertain future with a mix of hope and sorrow, determined to honor Soviet’s memory and embrace the new chapter of his life.

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End of chapter...

That was so short-

Soviet is DEAD.