Daisuke suddenly stopped in his tracks.
From where he stood, he hat his house was shrouded in darkness, and to make the se even more ominous, he spied a flicker of movement—a swift shadow retreating from the frorance of the house.
Daisuke dropped his sack. The fruits aables inside scattered on the ground. His stomach twisted with dread as he bolted toward the house and charged into the bedroom.
Moonlight suffused the cold chamber from the open window. His mother was on the bed, her features bathed in its soft light. And she was breathing.
Still very ed for her well-being, he hurried to her side, his footsteps quid anxious. Suddenly a soft, telltale ch echoed under his shoe, causing him to halt. Bending down, he ied the source of the sound, revealing a small, regur vial with a rounded bottom. A hint of purple liquid g to the interior, marking its ominous nature—a color often associated with poison.
“…”
Daisuke’s heart fell into a state of wild palpitations, panic gripping him as he turned his attention back to his mother. Her cheeks were flushed and her breaths, bored.
Gently, he reached out, brushing her forehead to gauge her fever. Her skin was warm to the touch, and unyielding lines of worry creased his forehead at that realization.
She’s burning up! he thought, a sense of helplessness gnawing at him. “Hang in there! I’ll fete water!”
Before he could make a move, his mother’s frail hand gripped his, her fingers weakly coiling around his wrist.
Her voice, though faint, carried a sense ency as she panted, “It’s too te.”
Daisuke’s heart sank at her words. He saw the struggle in her eyes, the weight of the situatioling heavily upon them both.
“I don’t have much time left,” she whispered, her voice a fragile thread. “…e closer.”
In that moment, time seemed to stand still, and Daisuke bit his lip in anguish. In video games, he always made it his point of duty to have ?antidotes? and other ?potions? stocked in his ?iory?. But, in this world, the power of a pyer had somehow eluded him.
Why? Why was this happening, again?
Daisuke held his mother’s hand, his fingers iwining with hers as they faced aable farewell, the reality of the situation hanging heavy in the air.
“I’m… so sorry… for being so stubborn and stu my ways,” she whispered repentantly. “I’m sorry… I couldn’t… give you the life you deserved.”
Daisuke frowned with a dejected smile. “Why are you speaking in the past tense? I’ll definitely figure something out; we’ll make it past this and work together to turn our lives around.”
The woman gave a wanly smile. “Is there anything… you would like to ask me?”
Daisuke’s eyes widened. He was taken by surprise by the ued question, but he kly what to say. “…What’s your name?”
“Evandria… Evandria Starfrost,” she fessed with a light titter, and then a cough.
“Mom!”
“I’m…I’m fine,” she managed, her voice weak. “But I thought… you would ask a more personal question. Though… I suppose it’s better if my past… fades away along with me. Delving into it… would only cause more harm than good.”
Letting go of his wrist, she gently pced her hand atop his, her eyes softening with affe. Daisuke’s eyes widened in trast, because standing oher side of the bed now—in what looked like a surreal proje—was his biological mother and father. They held each other’s hands, their expressions filled with empathy and passion.
As Evandria spoke, Daisuke felt the heartfelt words resonate as if they were directed from his real-world parents. It wasn’t merely a figment of his imagination; they were undeniably real.
“Thank you for being our son,” Evandria’s voice echoed in a soothing ahereal tohank you for making us the happiest parents in the world. We’re so very proud of who you’ve bee. Your world may seem bleak right now, but we know you will eventually find serenity.
Don’t bme yourself for what’s happened, and for what’s to e; simply persevere. Keep f ahead, and never lose hope. In time, you will find a pce where you truly belong.”
Evandria weakly cupped the side of his face, her long silver hair kissed by moonlight. Daisuke found himself drawn into her deep blue eyes, lost in their depths.
“We love you so much,” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. “We hope that... in time, you will find a love that burns just as brightly and true as ours did for you.”
Evandria smiled softly, then closed her eyes and took a gentle, bored breath, her lips parting slightly to sing a familiar melody.
In shadows deep where dreams may weep,
A cradle of stars, a soul to keep.
Through sorrows vast, the moonlight cast,
Whispers soft, a memory’s grasp.
Hush, my child, the night is kind,
Embrace the echoes left behind.
Stars dan skies, where teardrops lie,
A lulby for a soul to fly.
La-La-La, La-La-La…
“You will… always be my little firefly.”
With that final, heart-wreng utterance, Evandria’s hand slipped away and the gentle glow of the apparitions waned into obscurity. The room, once filled with the presence of those he loved, suddenly turned eerily silent.
Daisuke’s eyes quivered, his very core trembling uhe weight of the moment, his breath ueetering on the edge of hyperventition.
The somber darkness of the bedroom encased him like a shroud. And then, in the midst of his grief, he released a howl that echoed through the night—a mentation woven from the threads of sorrow, anguish that reached beyond the fines of his own pain and into the very soul of the world.
***
Several days had passed since Daisuke had been away m his mother’s passing, and the troop, Brek in particur, grew increasingly impatient for their leader’s return tanize another heist.
They were all gathered by the hideout, sitting around the remnants of a rge bonfire.
“At this rate, we might have to resort to sging for food at the garbage dump again,” someone proposed, the mere idea leaving a sour taste in their mouth.
“…”
“…”
“Ehh~? Do we really have to start doing that again?”
“Isn’t there anything we do?”
“Kinda sucks switg from fresh fruits back to rotten ones.”
“We won’t have to,” Brek decred firmly, capturing everyone’s curious gaze. “We’ll do a food run on our own.”
“…”
“What? But we’ve never gone on a food run without Big Bro before!”
“A-Are we going to be okay?”
“I don’t care, t me in. Anything’s better than going back te!”
“I... I don’t know.”
Brek frowned, his gaze falling to his ched fist. “A few years ago, if I had more food, my little sister wouldn’t have starved to death,” he murmured, his voice tinged with sorrow aermination. “I won’t let that happen to any of my friends.”
“Brek!” Mia interjected, trying to cool the fire his words had evoked. “We’ve never gone on a run without Haxks before. Until he gets back, we could ask the farmers to spare us some food; they’ve just started their harvest.”
“Mia’s right; they owe us big time!”
“We provided them with the seeds for their crops, after all.”
There was an obvious void between those who supported Daisuke and those who sided with Brek. But the Wolfkin didn’t back down.
“Taking from the farmers isn’t enough,” he retorted. “What about everyone else?”
Mia frowned. “You seem tet that oal is to teach the people of the slums about responsibility and taking initiative,” she tered firmly. “We’re not here to spoil them.”
“But until that lesson is learned,” Brek retaliated. “We ’t just let them starve now, we?”
“The slum folk are more resilient than you give them credit for; they’ve been making ends meet long before we started helping them. Besides, my point is that going on a run without Haxks is dangerous.”
“She’s right, Brek!” another voice chimed in. “Haxks is the leader for a reasohe oh the brains that made all this possible!”
“Argh! Haxks! Haxks! Haxks!” Brek pushed to his feet in a rage. “’t you idiots think on your own? Have you ever stopped to think that he may not actually e back? His mom just friggin’ died!”
“…”
“…”
“And what if he ever gets caught on a run?” Brek added, his voice tinged with urgency. “Do we just roll over and die? We have to learn to take charge on our own if that ever happens!”
Mia looked around in dismay. It was clear that Brek’s words had struck a chord; the majority of the troop had rallied around him, eager to follow his lead. Only the scouts who felt the most pressured on the food runs refused to take part.
Fear of monsters & the unknown: 74.8%
