Darkness.
Not night — something deeper. Still. Without edges or sound.
I woke on something cold that wasn't earth. My body didn't ache. It didn't even feel alive.
For a moment, I thought maybe I hadn't survived after all.
Then I saw them.
A faint light shimmered ahead — soft, white, endless. From it stretched a road glowing like starlight drawn into a single line. And on that road… people walked.
My people.
My parents. The elders. The children. Every face I'd known, every voice that had fallen silent in the fire.
They moved without sound, eyes fixed forward. No grief. No fear. Just peace — the kind you never see in the living world.
"Mother!"
My voice cracked through the stillness, but none of them turned.
I ran toward them. The closer I got, the further they seemed. The road bent, stretched — always just beyond reach.
"Please!" I shouted. "Wait! It's me!"
Nothing.
They were close enough to touch, yet when I reached out, my hand slipped through air. Their shapes wavered like mist disturbed by breath.
"Father…"
He didn't even flinch.
I dropped to my knees, staring as the light swallowed them one by one. The road dimmed, and the glow faded until only the dark was left — and me.
Then, behind me, a voice whispered.
Not kind. Not cruel. Just certain.
"You cannot follow the dead, child of ruin."
The air turned cold.
"As death follows you."
I didn't move at first. The words hung there — heavier than the dark.
Then the cold began to breathe. Not around me. Inside me.
My fingers twitched, reaching for warmth that wasn't there. My pulse felt wrong — slow, echoing, like it was beating from somewhere else.
Maybe this is what the dead feel when they remember life.
I looked down. The ground beneath me rippled — not solid, not void — and for a heartbeat, I saw faces in it. The ones I'd just lost, drifting below like reflections in black water.
"Why me…" The words slipped out, barely sound at all. Not a question. A confession.
Silence stretched, heavy enough to press against my ribs. The kind that made you think even the world was holding its breath.
Then it came — soft, steady, almost human.
"Because somebody had to."
No thunder. No divine weight. Just truth — bare and cruel in its simplicity.
A laugh broke out before I could stop it, hollow and cracked halfway through. "Because somebody had to? What a joke." I spat into the dark. "Is my life a joke to you all?"
Maybe it was.
After all, why would gods care for human life?
The faint voice that had flickered before stirred again, weak as a dying heartbeat. And something reached toward me, brushed my face with warmth that almost felt human — then faded, leaving only the dark and the cold buried under my skin.
I exhaled, breath shaking. "Then what am I now? A puppet of some god or deity?"
No answer came like before.
Just the silence again. Waiting. Watching.
It was like they were waiting for me to realize it on my own.
And then, as if my purpose there was done, the darkness pulled me out.
The world came back in pieces. First, the smell — smoke, ash, charred wood. Then the heat, low and relentless, pressing against my skin.
I opened my eyes. The sun was still shining, as though the carnage of yesterday had never happened. The village lay in ruins around me. Houses reduced to ash, the ground blackened and scarred.
I rolled onto my side, expecting pain, expecting blood — but there was none. My body was whole. Every wound and scar from the fight was gone. It was as if the world had laid a hand over me and erased the damage.
It had happened once before — when I first received the blessing. I'd been burning alive, and then suddenly… the flames, the pain, the wounds — all gone. I hadn't thought much about it then. I was too busy trying not to die.
But now, lying in the silence of what was left, I could only think one thing: It was incredible… and terrifying.
Not only could I summon the dead — I could heal from wounds that should've killed me. By the next day, or after some time, my body always returned to what it was before.
But what good was power without anyone to guide it?
I had lost everything. Everyone.
In this world, I was no one — with nowhere left to go.
All I had were memories… once the most precious things I had, now nothing but pain wearing familiar faces.
I spent the rest of the day digging graves. One for each of them — my parents, the elders, the children. Some of the little ones hadn't come back from the dead the first time. My parents hadn't. The children hadn't. They were gone, truly gone. I didn't mark their names. I didn't need to. The soil already knew who slept beneath it.
I knelt by my parents' graves, the shovel heavy in my hands. "I… I'm sorry," I whispered, voice breaking. "I couldn't save you. I couldn't save anyone."
My fingers dug into the dirt, clenching it like I could somehow hold onto them. "You didn't deserve this. None of you did. None of you…" My throat tightened. The words caught in my chest, and I swallowed hard against the lump that threatened to choke me.
All around me, the air felt heavier. The shadows of the dead I had summoned yesterday were gone. They had returned to their rest — still, final, silent. I couldn't call them back. Maybe they would rise if they had regrets. Maybe if their hatred still burned. But my parents, the children… they were gone beyond reach. Even my power, the one that had obeyed my will so easily before, would not answer now.
By the time the last mound was done, the sun had dipped low. I stood there for a while, watching the smoke drift where our roofs used to be. "This… this is all that's left," I murmured, voice almost lost to the wind. "All these ashes, and nothing of you remains. Not even a laugh. Not even a hand to hold."
The silence felt wrong — too big for one person to carry. Every memory was a blade pressing against my chest.
Staying here would only keep the wound open. Every step, every breath would drag me back to the fire.
So, when the ashes turned gold in the dying sunlight, I turned my back on the village.
No farewell. No promise to return.
Just the road, the dead behind me, and whatever waited beyond the smoke.
Even now, as I walked, I felt the weight of those I couldn't bring back pressing down on me. Perhaps one day, if they had regrets, if their hatred was strong enough, they might answer my call. But for now… for now they were gone. Truly gone.