Imagine A Happy Ending

As i walked deeper into the forest, each step feeling heavier than the last. The weight of what I had learned about my family's curse gnawed at me, pulling me into a spiral of doubt and fear. I had promised myself that I would break the curse, but the more I thought about it, the more uncertain I became. How could a mere boy like me, broken and lost, undo something so ancient and powerful?

The forest around me was suffocating, its silence oppressive. The trees seemed to lean in, their twisted branches reaching out like skeletal hands, casting long shadows that seemed to move with a life of their own. The air felt thick, heavy with the grief that I couldn't escape. It was as though the land itself was mourning, weighed down by the suffering of my ancestors—and now, by my own.

My feet carried me along a narrow, uneven path, the ground slick with wet leaves and fallen branches. The sky above remained perpetually gray, a dull, featureless canvas, as if the heavens themselves had given up on the world. No sun, no stars—just a never-ending stretch of sorrow.

I wasn't sure how long I had been walking when I saw it—an unsettling symbol etched into the earth. It was a circle of bones, surrounded by animal skulls, their hollow eyes staring back at me like remnants of forgotten souls. The markings were unmistakable. These were the signs of the mercenaries who had destroyed my home, the ones who roamed the land like predators, marking their territory with the remains of the creatures they had killed.

I hesitated, feeling a cold shiver crawl down my spine. The air seemed to thicken, as though the very atmosphere was waiting for something to happen.

"Stay alert, Kael," I muttered to myself. My voice was hoarse, my words barely more than a whisper in the dead silence around me.

Just then, a figure appeared from the shadows ahead—a child, no older than I was. The boy's face was thin, his clothes ragged and torn, his eyes wide with fear. He seemed to appear out of nowhere, his presence unnerving in its suddenness.

"Are you lost too?" I asked, taking a cautious step toward him.

The boy nodded quickly, his voice trembling. "Yes… I've seen the mercenaries. They're everywhere. They've taken everything."

My heart twisted at the mention of the mercenaries. I had to find the ruins of my village, and perhaps this boy could guide me. "Can you lead me to the village?" I asked, desperate for answers. "I need to know what happened there. Please."

The boy's eyes flickered with something—fear, or perhaps hope. He nodded again. "I know where they took it. Follow me. But… be careful. It's not safe."

I didn't hesitate. I followed the boy through the dense underbrush, my mind still reeling from everything I had learned. The path seemed to twist and turn unnaturally, as if the very forest itself was trying to confuse me. The strange symbols on the ground were becoming more frequent, more elaborate, and I felt the unease in my chest growing stronger with each step.

The deeper we went, the darker the forest became. The trees grew closer, their gnarled branches twisting together to block out the already faint light. The air felt heavy, oppressive—like something was watching us, something that thrived in the shadows.

And then, we reached a clearing. It was small, surrounded by the same eerie symbols I had seen before. But this time, there were bodies—three of them, hanging from ropes, their eyes wide and staring, their mouths open in silent screams. The scene was enough to make my stomach twist in horror, but it wasn't the bodies that caught my attention. It was the trap.

The boy stopped in his tracks, his expression changing from fear to something darker. "I'm sorry," he whispered, barely audible. "I didn't mean to lead you here."

Before I could react, the ground beneath me shifted. The earth seemed to give way, and in an instant, I was falling—trapped in a net, suspended above the ground, struggling to free myself.

"Help!" I shouted, but the boy stood still, his eyes cold and empty, watching from the shadows.

Then, there was movement. A group of mercenaries appeared, their faces grim and menacing. They were wearing tattered, bloodstained clothes, but each one wore a trophy from a different village—a necklace made from the teeth of the dead, a bracelet woven from the hair of their victims. One of them stepped forward, grinning as he looked up at me, trapped in the net.

"Well, well," the mercenary said, his voice low and mocking. "What have we here? A little rat caught in our trap. You shouldn't have come, boy."

My heart pounded in my chest. I struggled, trying to free myself, but the net held fast. The mercenaries circled around me, laughing cruelly.

"Should we finish him off now?" one of them sneered.

The boy—who I had thought was my ally—watched, expressionless. His lips barely moved as he spoke, his voice distant. "Do it."

The mercenary who had spoken earlier looked to the boy, a confused expression crossing his face. "You want us to kill him?"

The boy's cold gaze flicked over to me, and for a brief moment, I saw something in his eyes—something that made my blood run cold. "Yes," the boy said, his voice flat. "He doesn't belong here."

The mercenaries chuckled and raised their weapons.

"No!" I screamed, struggling harder to break free. "Please, don't!"

But it was too late. In an instant, the boy moved, pulling out a dagger, and before I could even process what was happening, the boy lunged forward. His target was the mercenary leader, but instead of striking him, the boy turned the blade on himself, slashing his throat in a swift, final motion.

I watched in horror as the boy collapsed to the ground, blood pooling around him. His final breath came in a gurgled gasp, and his body went still.

The mercenaries stood still for a moment, confused by the boy's sudden suicide. But then, their laughter returned, cruel and mocking.

"Well, that's one less to worry about," the leader said, turning back to me. "Now, where were we?"

The words echoed in my mind as the world around me seemed to slow, the weight of what had just happened sinking in. I had witnessed death up close for the first time. Not just the body, but the agony—the soul leaving the body. It was more than just the boy's life slipping away. It was the reality of a world without mercy, a world where life meant nothing.

My breath came in ragged gasps as I struggled to hold back tears. The boy's blood stained the ground, and for a long moment, I could do nothing but stare at it, my mind numb with shock.

Then, with a roar, I broke free of the net. My hands were shaking, my vision blurred by tears, but I didn't care. I had to get away. I had to escape.

The mercenaries didn't chase me. They were too busy mocking the boy's death, too engrossed in their cruelty. I didn't look back as I ran, the path before me a blur of shadows and grief.

For the first time in my life, I truly understood what it meant to be lost.