The sun cast its rays over the rooftops, bathing everything in light—
but the smoke was too thick.
Smoke, rising from one of the very houses touched by sunlight.
Smoke Ruigh had seen from far away.
It made him run.
He ran fast, gasping for air, eyes locked on one thing: his parents' home.
He didn't notice the passersby, the cracks in the pavement,
not even the old man he slammed into.
All he saw was the house.
The burning house.
The house he now stoode before
He trembled as he approached his burning home.
The smoke scorched his throat, making it impossible to breathe — but he kept going.
He stumbled through what was left of the front door, now shattered, and staggered blindly into the hallway.
"Mom? Dad?!" he cried, voice cracking in panic. No answer.
The smoke had already sunk deep into his lungs, clawing at his insides and stinging his eyes.
He dropped to his knees, crawling forward in desperation, trembling with sheer terror.
He dragged himself into the living room — and froze.
There she was.
His mother.
Lying at an unnatural angle, limbs twisted grotesquely, her skull caved in.
Ruigh stared, unable to move.
Piece by piece, the image of her broken body sank into his mind, and his whole frame convulsed.
His eyes widened in horror, and a scream of pure shock burst from his throat—
Then they widened even more.
A spike.
A jagged spike of earth burst through her corpse from below.
A low, quiet laugh echoed through the room. It made his bones shiver.
He raised his head slowly, eyes wide with terror.
A figure loomed before him.
"You're loud, kid," came a whisper, calm but laced with malicious madness.
Ruigh screamed.
He turned and tried to crawl away, but the voice spoke again — almost thoughtfully:
"I told you not to be so loud."
Vines erupted from the floor and walls. They wrapped around his limbs, coiling tighter and tighter until they stole the air from his lungs.
They dragged him closer — closer to the figure, to death, to the end.
Ruigh's mind collapsed in on itself as he was pulled forward, until the figure's face came into view.
A young man. Mid-twenties. Calm. Smiling.
Ruigh's breathing sped up.
(Who is this? Why is he here? Why is this happening?)
"Hello, kid," the man said casually.
"I'm guessing that was your mother I just killed."
His grin widened.
"But trust me — she was worthless. Just like so many others."
"Your father even tried to protect her," he added with a hollow laugh.
"As if her existence meant anything. As if it had value."
Each word was poison, tearing into Ruigh's heart.
He stared at the killer in frozen horror, mouth trembling.
"Why... why...?" he stammered, his voice barely a whisper.
His thoughts spiraled into a void of desperation and disbelief.
He no longer felt the vines, the fire, the collapsing house.
There was only the man —
The man who had destroyed his life.