Enaeya

05 - Whispers of Hope

The subtle gurgle of the mystic spring was the only sound that accompanied me as I sat, knees drawn tightly to my chest, buried within the emerald embrace of the ancient forest. The air was laced with the fragrance of blossoming wildflowers and the soft, yielding warmth of spring. But there was no comfort to be found in such beauty; not for me. I only saw the reflection of the past rippling on the shimmering surface of the water before me, pale and distorted, just as my memories had grown over time.

When I first met Damian, I never imagined that he would become the love of my life. He was kind at heart, a comedian, and always had countless unpredictable methods of making me feel like the most important person in the world. We shared our dreams and fears, our hopes and disappointments, and everything in between. Damian was the foundation that lifted me up whenever I fell into a state of sadness, he was my rock, my confidant, my everything.

But all of that changed because of what happened that day.

Damian and I had always dreamed of a peaceful life together where we're able to enjoy each other's presence in comfort. I remember nights under starlit skies, evoking visions of what life would be like after the chaos settled. We scattered hopes and dreams across the forest like seeds, dancing and laughing as we imagined a life unmarred by horrors. But when the town fell under siege, with it, my dreams turned to smoke, knowing I had left my lover behind instead of leaving with him.

The memory cut deep, sharper than any claws the monsters had possessed. They had slashed through our homes, their grotesque forms cloaked in shadows, twisting and writhing as they laid waste to lives. It has subjected me to absolute fear, especially knowing that Damian was left alone in that horrible place.

I still remember the nightmare I had about him where the flowers caught flames, spreading like wildfire, and blending together in a symphony of dread. And I still can't forget the way he looked at me with sorrowful eyes as he slowly burned into ashes. "Why did you leave me to die?" he had asked me in that dream, and I wish I could peel away that hellish memory, but it clings to me like a shroud. Because even in that dream, I ran away from him, just like how I left him behind in reality, and it felt like I had betrayed him.

Could I truly consider survival if it meant leaving my love behind?

Do I even deserve to live?

I was lost in these thoughts when I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the liquid crystal of the spring; a face hollowed out by grief, a mere echo of the vibrant young man I had once been. The water rippled, distorting my features, but that didn't mask the torment etched in the lines of my forehead or the sorrow trapped in my eyes.

From a distance, I could see my mother and the other survivors, their voices barely breaking the tranquil mood, scuffling and murmuring as they set up a makeshift camp. How ironic it was that I had survived the massacre only to turn my back on the very chance of survival. I craved isolation, a sanctuary of sorrow, a place where I could dive deep into the burden of guilt without being pulled back to the surface by the light of life.

I closed my eyes and visualized Damian, his playful smile softened by the black strands that fell over his brow. He used to tease me about how serious I could be, but now the thought drew only despair. I remember the way we would sit by the river bank under the starry night, fingers entwined, promising each other that the world would stay at bay, that our love would remain unscathed.

How hollow those promises sounded now.

The forest felt sentient, cradling me within its verdant arms, but I was devoid of solace. I heard the hushed laughter of the survivors nearby, their voices growing hushed as they shared memories; perhaps of lost loved ones, perhaps of fleeting joy amidst the ruins. Each guffaw became a dagger, each moment of reprieve felt like salt in the wound. My heart, a tumult of remorse, guided my thoughts to the impossible - the desire to change the past.