06

Crimson blood seeped into the soot-covered dirt beneath the kneeling man, pooling around his battered form in the heart of a desolated battlefield. The air was thick with the acrid stench of smoke rising from the mountains of corpses that stretched as far as the eye could see. Dark, ominous clouds churned above, casting a suffocating pall over the ruined land. A single drop of rain fell, splashing onto the man's bruised and bloodied face, mingling with the rivulets of crimson that trickled down his skin.

He knelt there, trembling, as if the weight of the world was crushing him into the ground. His breaths came in ragged, desperate gasps, each one a struggle against the pain tearing through his body. His vision blurred, and for a moment, he thought he was already slipping away into the darkness that beckoned from the edges of his consciousness.

"I'm... sorry," the man choked out, his voice barely a whisper. Blood bubbled up from his lips as he spoke, the taste of iron overwhelming him. With a monumental effort, he lifted his head, forcing himself to meet the gaze of the figure standing before him. The effort was too much, and his vision wavered again, but he refused to let go, not yet.

The figure leaned in closer, their voice soft but firm. "No, don't be sorry. You did all you could, Aristellus."

Aristellus's breath hitched, and he coughed violently, spitting more blood onto the ground. "This... was our best attempt, and yet..." His voice broke, and for a moment, the pain in his chest was nothing compared to the agony in his heart. "I... was too stubborn. I didn't trust anyone. I didn't save anyone. I thought... I'd be enough. But... I... was just scared... scared to trust... scared to try."

He could feel it now—the gaze of the woman hidden in the shadows, her presence a harbinger of death. It was as if her very existence was pulling him down into the abyss. The figure before him, sensing the encroaching end, reached out in a final attempt to heal him, but Aristellus slapped their hand away with what little strength he had left.

"Don't... waste your magic on me," he rasped, his voice barely audible over the sound of the rain that had begun to fall steadily around them.

"But you'll die," the figure protested, their voice trembling with the weight of unspoken grief.

"I know." Aristellus's words were a resigned whisper, his breaths growing shallower with each passing moment. The blood was filling his lungs now, choking him, but he forced his hand to move. With trembling fingers, he pierced his own chest, letting the blood flow out in a desperate bid to keep breathing for just a little longer. "This... attempt is a failure, Gaia. Healing me... means nothing."

Gaia could do nothing but watch as Aristellus's body gave out, his strength finally spent. He collapsed onto the blood-soaked ground, the rain mixing with the crimson pool around him. His dark-purple eyes, with their golden centers, stared unseeing at the sky, a sad smile tugging at his bloodied lips. With the last of his strength, he reached out towards the heavens, as if seeking solace in the storm that raged above.

"I... really am sorry, Gaia," he whispered, his voice fading with each word.

Gaia knelt beside him, tears streaming down her face as she placed a trembling hand over his eyes, gently closing them. "You did enough, Aristellus," she whispered, her voice breaking. "It was me who didn't do enough. Next time, when we meet again... I promise. That time, will be different."

---

The boy's chest heaved as he jolted awake, gasping for air as if he'd been drowning in the darkness. His heart thundered in his ears, the sound almost deafening in the oppressive silence that surrounded him. Disoriented, he blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of the dim, shadowy world around him.

He found himself sprawled on the cold stone floor of what seemed to be the remnants of a once-grand church. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and decay, the silence broken only by the occasional distant drip of water echoing through the vast chamber. Above him, a faint glimmer of light struggled to penetrate the gloom, filtering down through a jagged hole in the ceiling far above. The light was weak, swallowed almost entirely by the darkness that filled the ancient ruin.

The boy winced as he pushed himself up, his side throbbing with pain. His hand instinctively went to his ribs, and he was relieved to find no bones broken, though his body ached all over. As he took in his surroundings, he realized he was in what remained of the church's nave. The once-majestic rows of pews were now nothing more than decaying wood and dust, their skeletal remains scattered across the floor. At the far end of the room, the altar was crumbling, the statues of forgotten deities shattered and lying in pieces at its base.

The murals on the walls, which must have once depicted scenes of reverence and faith, were now barely recognizable. Time and neglect had rendered them ghostly images, their colors faded to near invisibility. The stained-glass windows that had once filled the church with vibrant light were now shattered, their jagged remnants framing the oppressive darkness beyond.

A shiver ran down the boy's spine, not just from the cold but from the overwhelming sense of desolation that seemed to seep from the very walls of the place. The air was heavy, almost suffocating, as if the ruin itself was mourning the loss of its former glory.

Gingerly, the boy got to his feet, his legs trembling slightly as he steadied himself. His eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light, revealing more details of the ruin. The floor was littered with debris, broken stones, and twisted roots that had forced their way through the cracks in the ancient masonry. Vines climbed the walls, their leaves dark and almost black in the gloom.

The boy took a cautious step forward, the sound of his footfall echoing eerily in the vast, empty space. His instincts screamed at him to stay silent, to move carefully, as if the very air around him was waiting to pounce. The silence was unnerving, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't alone. His eyes darted around, searching for any sign of movement, but all he saw were shadows shifting in the darkness.

As he approached the crumbling altar, a faint glimmer caught his eye. Intrigued, he moved closer and saw a small, ornate pendant lying amidst the rubble. Its silver chain gleamed faintly in the dim light, and the boy hesitated for a moment before reaching out to pick it up. The cool metal felt reassuring in his hand, the pendant shaped like a crescent moon, intricately detailed with patterns that seemed impossibly delicate for something so old.

"I have found you." A gentle voice, filled with warmth, echoed deep within the boy's mind. Before he could react, a brilliant flash of light erupted, chasing away the darkness that clung to the ancient ruins. When the light faded, a figure stood before him—a woman wearing a dress made of light, her presence radiant and ethereal. Her eyes, ever-changing and filled with an infinite depth of affection, relief, and guilt, gazed at the boy through her transparent, rainbow-colored hair.

The boy stared in awe, unable to speak, as the woman's warm smile slowly spread across her face. The sense of desolation that had suffocated the ruin moments before was gone, replaced by a feeling of calm and peace. The boy didn't know who she was, but in that moment, he felt as if he had known her his entire life.