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Year 95, Month 1, Day 5, Time 5:30pm
Location: mountain (Kisrad)
The snow was still falling—slowly this time, as if it were silently observing what was happening.
Lucan took a step back, his heart pounding wildly, his eyes fixed on the face of his younger brother.
"Tharos…?"
He repeated the name softly, as if the letters struggled to find their way to his ears.
"What's wrong? What happened? Answer me!"
But Tharos didn't respond.
He stood there, his face bearing the mark of a burned hand, and his eyes… void of any expression.
No fear, no shock, no pain.
As if he no longer recognized the person standing before him.
As if he had forgotten… everything.
The mist swirled around him, the cold biting the air, but Tharos didn't move.
Even the shivering that had plagued him moments earlier… had vanished.
Lucan stepped closer cautiously, his hand trembling as he reached for his brother.
"Please… say something. This isn't the time for jokes."
Finally, Tharos slowly tilted his head and looked at Lucan.
But his gaze was strange… hazy… as if something else was watching through his eyes.
He spoke in a tone devoid of any warmth:
"…Lucan?"
Lucan nodded quickly, hope flickering in his eyes.
"Yes! It's me! I'm here, Tharos!"
Tharos gently placed his hand on Lucan's face, slowly… as if it were the last time he'd confirm that his brother was real… that he still existed.
Then he collapsed.
His tears poured out all at once, with a strange warmth that defied the freezing air—as if his sorrow itself resisted the cold.
He began to sob… and didn't stop.
His face was a portrait of heartbreak—his trembling eyes, the choked voice, the hand still resting on his brother's cheek.
And Lucan… stood frozen, stunned by the sight of his brother, who had just moments ago resembled a walking corpse.
"What happened to you?"
"What did you see?"
His voice was full of despair… and fear.
But Tharos didn't answer.
As if tears were the only language left to him.
Lucan felt a heavy weight drop onto his chest.
Something deeper than fear.
Guilt.
He should've known.
He shouldn't have let Tharos go alone for a piece of bread.
They shouldn't have climbed the mountain in the first place.
But he didn't know…
He didn't know the mountain hid more than just rocks and fog.
Because the townspeople, despite their ignorance, hadn't lied when they said:
"No one climbs up there."
Not because the path was hard.
Not because the snow was thick.
But because something… unnamed… lurks there.
Something forgotten… An hour passed, and the snow kept falling mercilessly, covering the ground and erasing every footprint.
Lucan sat beside his brother inside the cave, holding him in silence, his voice gone from calling his name too much.
He looked at Tharos, who had finally calmed down—no longer crying, but also… no longer himself.
Tharos now sat in silence, unmoving, eyes wide open, his face blank, with no sign of tears or any emotion.
He looked like an empty puppet.
Lucan couldn't believe what he was seeing. He gently shook his brother's shoulders and whispered:
"Tharos… I'm here… it's me, Lucan…"
But Tharos didn't respond, didn't blink, didn't even flinch.
Lucan swallowed hard, his heart racing, feeling like each passing second was dragging his brother further into darkness.
He whispered fearfully:
"What did you see out there? Who did this to you?"
No reply.
Lucan turned toward the thick fog surrounding them like a wall and remembered Johan's words:
"If you see something move… don't move. Don't make a sound. And don't forget the red button."
But Tharos no longer had the device… the creature had taken it.
Lucan knelt, searching his brother's pockets with trembling hands, his heart thundering like war drums.
He pulled out everything… a piece of cloth, leftover food, a folded map… but the device wasn't there.
Lucan froze.
"Impossible…" he muttered, staring at the tightly sealed pocket where Tharos had personally stored the device.
He closed his eyes for a moment, his mind racing, as if trying to survive through thinking alone. Then he murmured almost audibly:
"Either it fell… which is highly unlikely… or something took it."
He looked at his brother again, at the burn mark on his face… it wasn't just heat. It was a mark.
A mark that someone—or something—had touched him… and left behind a trace that could never be erased.
True fear began to creep into Lucan's chest.
"Did he see it? But Johan said we wouldn't find it here…"
At that moment, Lucan was drowning in a whirlwind of questions, mentally replaying everything since the start of their journey.
Everything was falling apart in his mind, collapsing silently under the weight of a truth he wasn't ready to face.
"But I was supposed to be the one…"
Lucan stopped suddenly. The words caught in his throat. He didn't want to finish the sentence. As if something inside him was trying to stop him from admitting it—or from facing a truth too big to speak aloud.
He looked at Tharos, a long, conflicted gaze. Then he spoke in a broken voice:
"I don't know what to say to you, Tharos…"
"We were supposed to finish the mission and go home. Heal him. Then rest from all of this."
He smiled faintly—a smile more like grief than humor—and said:
"But you're an idiot… I know that."
He let out a short, weak laugh that cracked halfway through.
"Do you know, Tharos…" he added after a heavy silence, "I'm going to leave you here."
His words echoed in the cave, as if the very walls refused to believe what they heard.
He took a step back, then muttered, turning his face away:
"If only you hadn't taken it, Tharos…"
Lucan stood up slowly, as if exhaustion had paralyzed his soul, then turned his back to his brother and walked away.
The fog was thick this time, as if the mountain itself wanted to swallow him whole.
Each step he took wove an ending—one he didn't know whether it was the end of the road… or the end of the bond between him and Tharos.
And with the last glimpse of him disappearing into the white,
Tharos remained seated inside the cave, silent. His eyes wide open, staring into an unbearable void.
His hands still resting on his lap…