Chapter 8 - The Aftermath

Aric's body screamed in protest as he dragged himself toward the wreckage of what was once his home. Every step sent waves of pain through his battered form, but he pushed forward, driven by sheer willpower and the raging storm of emotions within him.

The once-cosy hut, now a shattered ruin, stood like a grim reminder of his failure to protect what mattered most.

He stumbled over the splintered remains of the door, nearly collapsing as he reached the threshold. The air inside was thick with the acrid smell of burnt wood and smoke, mingling with the lingering scent of herbs that had once filled the small space.

The woman had torn through the place with brutal efficiency, leaving almost nothing behind.

Aric's breath came in ragged gasps as he searched the debris, his hands shaking from pain and fury. His vision blurred, but he forced himself to focus, to find anything that could help him survive this moment.

Every movement was agony, each step a battle against the darkness threatening to pull him under.

His eyes landed on a small, partially charred roll of cloth lying amidst the wreckage. It was the only thing left untouched by the woman's malicious hand—a scrap of what used to be his bandages.

With trembling hands, Aric reached for it, his fingers clumsy and stiff. The cloth was rough against his skin, singed at the edges, but it was better than nothing.

He slumped against the wall, his back scraping against the jagged wood as he tried to catch his breath. The world swam around him, a haze of pain and disorientation, but he couldn't afford to pass out. Not now. Not with Vire in danger. 

His hands shook as he fumbled with the cloth, tearing it into strips as best he could. The edges were uneven, the fabric stiff from the heat, but it would have to do.

Gritting his teeth, he pressed the makeshift bandages against his wounds, the pain almost blinding as the rough material scraped over torn flesh.

A low growl escaped his lips, a sound born of pain and the burning rage that twisted within him. His eyes, once clear and sharp, were now darkened with anger, swirling with the madness that had taken root in his heart. The betrayal he had suffered, the loss of Vire—it was too much to bear.

With clumsy hands, Aric wrapped the cloth around his torso, binding the deepest of his wounds as best he could. His breath hitched with every movement, each twist of the bandage sending fresh stabs of agony through him.

Sweat dripped down his face, mingling with the blood that stained his skin, but he didn't stop. He couldn't stop.

As he worked, his thoughts spiralled into a dark abyss, his mind replaying the events that had led to this moment.

The woman's cold eyes as she took Vire, the way she had so effortlessly destroyed everything he had built. It was as if she had known exactly how to break him, how to take from him the one thing that mattered most.

And now, with nothing left but his fury and his pain, Aric's mind clung to a single, twisted thought: revenge.

He would find her. He would make her pay for what she had done. No matter the cost, no matter the sacrifice, he would bring Vire back.

The last strip of cloth was tied off, the makeshift bandage pulling tight against his wounds. Aric leaned back, his breath coming in shallow, pained gasps. His body was a patchwork of injuries, each one a reminder of his failure.

But his mind—his mind was sharper than ever, honed by the agony and the madness that consumed him.

His eyes, now swirling with a dangerous mix of rage and despair, scanned the remains of the hut. She had taken nearly everything—his supplies, his tools, even the herbs he had painstakingly gathered. All that was left were the memories of what had been, and the searing rage that had taken their place.

Aric forced himself to stand, his legs trembling beneath him. The world tilted for a moment, but he steadied himself against the wall, drawing on the well of fury that fueled him. His wounds were hastily patched, his body weakened, but his resolve had never been stronger.

He would find her. He would find Vire.

And when he did, he would make her regret ever crossing him.