The fire burned for hours.
Even from deep within the forest, Vernon could see the glow through the trees with the smoke reaching for the heavens..
The soft orange pulse that rose and fell like a dying heartbeat. Bruce lay curled against him, exhausted from crying. Derek sat only a few steps away, his back to them, toward the distant blaze as if his soul were still standing in the ruins.
No one spoke.
Words would have felt like lies.
Eventually, the forest quieted, leaving only crackling embers, whispering leaves, and the small uneven breaths of a boy who had cried himself empty.
Bruce shifted, breaking the silence with a weak voice.
"Brother..? is Mom.. really gone"
Vernon tried to swallow the lump in his throat that was being kept in place by what felt like barbed wire.
Before he could answer, Derek lifted his head.
his voice came out hoarse, roughened by smoke and grief.
"...Yes."
Bruce's small fingers clenched Vernon's sleeve until his knuckles whitened.
Vernon looked at his father- really looked. Almost didn't recognize him.
Derek had always felt unshakeable, an oak tree towering above every storm.
Tonight.. He looked like what remained after a storm.. Stripped, battered, hollowed out.
"Your mother..." Derek started, then stopped. He tried again. "She knew they'd kill us all
if she didn't hold them back. She... she chose who she could save."
It was the truth.
But it broke whatever fragile balance they had left.
Bruce started sobbing again - quieter this time, like his body was too drained to do more. Vernon wrapped his arms around him and let him cry into his chest.
Derek's shoulder trembled.
Not from fear or from the cold.
But from the grief.
He turned away suddenly, pressing a hand to his mouth as if trying to stop himself from making a sound. His entire body shook.
Vernon had never seen his father cry.
Not once.
He didn't think it was possible.
But there he was, breaking apart in the dark where he thought no one could see.
Vernon felt a sharp pain inside his chest. Not physical. Deeper.
"Father..." he tried to say out loud but came out as a whisper.
Derek stiffened, wiping at his eyes quickly before facing them again - forcing steadiness into his voice.
"We cannot stay here." he said, stumbling while getting up. "Those people...probably wont stop here.."
Vernon clenched his fists whilst trying to find the strength to get up.
He remembered the masked figures.
Their movements.
Their precision.
The dark fluid that oozed from their hands like poison.
"Who are they?" Vernon asked quietly.
Derek's jaw tightened
"...People who once called themselves scholars. The same ones who helped your mother with her research."
Bruce looked up, confused through tears. "Why would they hurt her?"
Derek had hesitated.
Because it's easier to kill a mind than compete with it.
"...Because they wanted the power." Derek finally said after a long pause. "And your mother refused to give it to them."
The forest fell silent again.
Vernon stared at the glowing horizon, feeling the heat even from here- The heat of a home turned to cinders. The satchel of his mother's research sat heavy against his side.
He placed his hand over it.
"Father," Vernon whispered. "What do we do now?"
Derek breathed out slowly.
"We survive. We wait. And one day... when you two are strong enough..."
His eyes hardened- not with rage, but with something colder.
"...we make sure your mother's death was not in vain."
Vernon felt Bruce tremble against him.
"That's.. Revenge, isn't it? mom... read a story for me about it before.." Bruce whispered with a weak broken voice.
The word hung in the air.
Derek knelt before them both, Placing a hand on each of their shoulders.
"No," he said softly.
"This is our justice."
Vernon didn't know if that was true.
But he understood one thing
Tonight, something had changed inside of him, a void that he had never felt before formed.
A door had closed.
A new one opened. Dark, heavy, and waiting.
He looked at Bruce.. eyes swollen, face streaked with tears - and wiped his little brother's cheek gently.
"Bruce... we'll get through this." Vernon stated.
"How?" Bruce asked.
Vernon tightened his grip on his hand.
"Together. Like Mom wanted."
Bruce held his breath, then nodded.
It wasn't courage.
It was survival.
Derek stood, lifting his pack. "We move."
They traveled under moonlight, weaving through the forest as the burning wreckage faded behind them. Vernon kept pace beside Derek, carrying Bruce on his back when his brother's legs gave out.
Hours passed.
When dawn finally broke, pale light spilled across a clearing - and Vernon saw it.
The last remnant of their home.
A single wooden beam, charred black, had been thrown far from the main ruin during the explosion. Something was carved into it.
Vernon stepped closer.
It was a message.
Two words, etched by hand in their mother's familiar script:
"Protect them."
Vernon's throat tightened so sharply he nearly choked on the air.
Bruce reached for the beam shakily. "Mom... left this?"
Derek's expression shattered for a moment - just a moment.
Then he turned away, voice low.
"She trusted us. We won't fail her."
Vernon pressed his hand against the burned wood.
He didn't pray.
He didn't whisper goodbye.
He didn't even cry.
He simply breathed out a single promise:
"...We'll protect each other. I swear it."
Bruce placed his hand over Vernon's.
Then Derek laid his hand over theirs.
Three hands.
One vow.
The vow that would shape the rest of their lives.
The vow that would turn survivors into something that wont forgive even the innocent.
And boys into something far, far darker.