The air was no longer thick with ash, but the silence that followed bore a heavier weight than any smoke. It was the silence after the screaming. The silence after the fire had eaten its fill.
Tovan and his father moved alone through the forest now, the cries of the villagers lost behind them, swallowed by the woods and whatever nightmare had descended upon their home. Bark scratched their arms, thorns tore their sleeves, but neither stopped. They only breathed harder, the scent of scorched earth still clinging to them.
It should have been a blessing—survival—but it felt like abandonment.
Then they saw him. The elder.
Bent, gray-haired, eyes wide like he'd seen the abyss and found it staring back at him. His robe was torn, stained with earth and blood, but he was alive. Alive and running.
"Elder!" Tovan shouted. "Wait, it's us! You don't need to run!"
But the old man didn't slow. His gait was crooked, frantic. A man running not just from them, but from truth.
"Stay back!" the elder cried, breath ragged, voice sharp with terror. "You should be dead! You should be dead like the rest!"
Tovan faltered. His father did not.
"You coward!" his father bellowed. "What madness do you speak?"
He surged forward, muscles taut with rage and disbelief. Tovan tried to stop him, but the momentum of grief was stronger than his grasp. His father seized a large stone from the ground, raised it, and with a trembling cry, hurled it.
The rock struck the elder's back with a sickening crack.
Yet he didn't fall.
Staggering, the elder pushed on, only to catch his foot against a hidden root. His legs gave way. He collapsed, arms flailing like a broken puppet. He hit the ground hard. Dust rose. The forest returned to silence.
Tovan and his father reached him moments later.
The elder was on his knees, clutching his side, bleeding but conscious. And screaming.
"Stay away!" he gasped, eyes wild. "You don't understand! You were supposed to die!"
Tovan's father grabbed him by the collar, dragged him close.
"What are you saying?!" he growled. "You speak like a madman! We are survivors!"
"Survivors?" the elder laughed. It was a terrible, broken sound. "There are no survivors. Only delayed sacrifices."
"You were the oldest," Tovan said quietly, his voice trembling. "You led the prayers, the offerings. You taught us about Ehlor. You believed the strongest."
The elder stared at them, then shook his head.
"There is no Ehlor," he whispered. "There never was."
The words fell like stone into water, rippling through the forest.
"You lie!" Tovan's father shouted, shaking the old man. "Blasphemy! You say this after all we've lost?!"
But the elder's mind was already crumbling, his thoughts unraveling.
"The prayers, the songs, the rites..." he muttered. "They were rituals, yes. But not for a god. For the Great Divine. The slumbering force beneath the earth. We were its flock. It needed meat. Dreams. Blood. Our village was its altar."
His eyes rolled upward.
"We were never worshippers. We were cattle. Sheep, fattened and fed lies."
His body began to rock as if in mourning, as if chanting his own funeral rites.
"Fated to be slaughtered... fated to be slaughtered... fated to be slaughtered..."
Tovan knelt, numb. The world tilted.
"So everything was a lie," he whispered. "We weren't faithful. We were pawns."
He remembered the faces of his neighbors. The laughter in the market. His sister's hand in his. His mother's warm voice in the kitchen. All just a dream inside a cage.
But his father stood tall.
"No," he said firmly. "No. This is a trial. A test of loyalty. Ehlor is real. This is his challenge to us."
He looked to the sky, fists clenched.
"I will prove my devotion!"
And then he ran.
"Father, wait!" Tovan cried.
But his father was already gone, sprinting through the woods like a man possessed.
Tovan chased after him.
Branches slapped his face, roots clawed his ankles. He saw his father ahead, nearing the edge of the woods. The stone monument of Ehlor stood there, untouched by the destruction. Still and solemn.
Then Tovan tripped.
His body slammed against something soft, yielding. Something cold.
A body.
Tovan froze. Then looked down.
His mother.
Her head was gone. But the dress... the one she wore every festival, sky-blue with embroidered golden leaves...
"No..."
He fell beside her, grabbing the dress, sobbing. The truth was too cruel.
But there was no time.
His father reached the monument and dropped to his knees.
"Ehlor..." he whispered. "I am loyal. I have endured. I believe. I believe!"
He pressed his forehead to the stone, tears mixing with dirt.
"This is your test. I see now. I passed. I believe in you! Save me from this evil!"
And then the forest grew cold.
A shadow fell over him.
A voice spoke.
Calm. Low. Merciless.
"A poor sheep."
Tovan watched from the trees, heart in his throat.
The unknown man emerged.
Still in his torn black coat, face pale, eyes glowing like embers carved in ice.
He raised a finger. The air around Tovan's father shimmered.
The man didn't strike. He didn't need to.
Tovan's father cried out.
His legs withered first.
Like dried roots shriveling into dust.
"I believe in you!" he screamed. "I BELIEVE!"
His arms shrank next. Veins blackened. Flesh peeled. Yet he prayed still, whispering between screams.
The unknown man stepped closer.
Face-to-face now. The man leaned in.
"A poor, loyal sheep," he said again. His voice held no hatred. Only cold indifference.
Tovan's father's eyes widened. He saw the truth. He understood.
There had never been a god to hear him.
His screams turned to silence.
His body turned to dust.
Tovan covered his mouth.
Tears streamed, but his legs stayed rooted. He watched the man. The god? The demon? No... something worse. Something ancient. Unknowable.
The being turned slowly.
Their eyes met.
For a moment, Tovan could not breathe.
Those red eyes saw him. Saw everything.
But they did not move. Did not chase.
The man simply turned away.
Tovan fled.
Through the woods, past his mother, past the elder who now rocked in silence. He ran until the trees thinned. Until the smoke cleared.
He did not stop.
And as he ran, a single vow burned in his chest:
"I will find the truth."
"I will uncover everything that has been buried."
"And I will kill that monster who looked at my father like an insect."
The trees blurred past him.
The silence was behind.
But ahead, the storm was only beginning.