"A Late Awakening"

Leo's eyelids fluttered open, and he found himself on a stretcher, being carried away from the ruins of Besen by two soldiers.

"Hmm... Where am I...?" He tried to sit up but felt nauseous as his head throbbed. He felt the world spin as he regained his memories of the terrible days before, causing his mind to reel. "Ahhh..." he grunted.

He didn't recognize the faces around him. Everything was a blur. Then he saw him. A sturdy man, his hand resting reassuringly on Leo's arm, his uniquely designed helmet glinting in the dawn light. Their gazes locked, and Leo's heart pounded. A spark of recognition lit the man's eyes, along with a flicker of hope.

Roland remained at Leo's side, desperate to ask him what happened, but he could see the boy was in no condition to talk.

"Easy there, lad. We're the good guys. We pulled you out of that pit. You're safe now. You can trust us. Rest." Roland said softly, his voice rough with exhaustion but tinged with a strange mix of relief and sorrow.

Leo closed his eyes, the knot of tension in his stomach loosening slightly. Safe... for now, at least. But the images, the screams, still echoed in his mind. 

He remained lost in thought, the weight of what he'd been through slowly receding, granting him a sliver of respite. Fear and death had haunted him for days.

A question persistently gnawed at him, forcing its way to the forefront. He had to know. A deep longing rose within: He needed to know if his mother's body had been found. He yearned to honor her memory; to say a final, heartbreaking farewell. 

But his voice was hoarse, his body ravaged by hunger and fatigue, yet he desperately tried to convey his need to know about his mother.

With trembling hands, Leo unclasped the golden necklace, his heart heavy with the grief he knew the portrait would evoke. He offered it to Roland. 

Intrigued, Roland accepted the pendant and scrutinized it. He carefully opened a tiny locket attached to the chain, revealing a miniature portrait of a young Leah in a beautiful gown.

Roland's face drained of color as he recognized the woman in the portrait. After a moment, he regained his composure, but his gaze, as it snapped back to Leo, was filled with a complex mix of emotions: pity, guilt, and a flicker of fear.

"Where did you get this pendant, lad?" Roland demanded, his voice strained, his eyes searching Leo's for answers.

Leo strained to speak, his voice barely a whisper: "My mother... she gave it to me before... before it all happened."

"Halt!" Captain Roland roared, his voice cutting through the somber air. The two stretcher-bearers halted abruptly.

Roland quickly instructed two guards, who were stationed a short distance away, to wrap Leah's body in a shroud or any available cloth, stipulating that under no circumstances should the body be exposed. He watched them for a moment, his jaw clenched, then turned back to Leo, his expression unreadable.

"She's badly decomposed. She and the boy deserve some dignity," he explained quietly to the departing guards, more to himself than to them.

Roland returned to those carrying Leo, kneeling beside the stretcher. He lowered his voice, almost to a whisper. He leaned in, his gaze intense. "What you've heard here stays here. I presume you value your lives and the well-being of your families. Forget everything." 

His words, though soft, carried the weight of a mountain, a silent threat that hung heavy in the air.

Turning his attention back to Leo, he continued, "Listen carefully, son. We need your testimony. In light of your miraculous survival, we will ensure your mother receives a burial near the tranquil trees of Mount Lichtwelt—the most peaceful resting place she could have. It's a place reserved for heroes, and your mother... she was a hero."

Leo, his throat tight with unshed tears, could only manage a small nod.

Once he was settled in the wagon, they were ready to depart. The weight of his recent experiences pressed down on him like an unbearable burden, threatening to crush his spirit.

A persistent wave of dizziness threatened to overwhelm him, and yet, even as he lay there, drifting in and out of consciousness, he watched the passing scenery blur by.

Soon, he spotted the graves of the villagers lining the edge of the lake ravine, about fifteen meters from the road.

The soldiers had created simple memorials of stacked stones, marking each grave with a small six-pointed wooden star. To further identify the deceased, they had placed personal belongings found with each victim beside their respective stars.

A single, fragile thought flickered in Leo's mind: "I did it, Mother..." But it was quickly extinguished by a fresh wave of agony. He saw his father's grave, and on it, Noah's familiar straw hat impaled on the wooden marker. 

Two graves away, the soldiers carefully surrounded a small grave with stones. Beside the wooden star lay a battered plushie, and the only thought that crossed Leo's mind was...

"Lenny"...!

A numbing cold spread through Leo's chest, the world fading away, reality dissolving into a dreamlike haze. One question echoed in his mind. 

"Why?"

Standing beside Leo, Roland suddenly noticed a faint, rhythmic pulse of light emanating from the boy's nape.

"A late awakening?" Roland thought, his heart pounding with sudden, inexplicable apprehension.

_____________________________________________

Leo regained consciousness, sitting on his blanket in front of the window. The room was small, dimly lit but clean. The air smelled of stale sweat, dust, and something else... something faint but sickeningly familiar: the coppery tang of blood. It clung to his clothes, to his skin... 

Though not truly there, it was a phantom reminder of the horrors he had witnessed.

Fragments of his past flickered: faces, screams, his mom's suffering and death, the deep of the reservoir. Mia's plushie beside a small grave. His father's hat... 

Fury boiled up, twisting his gut, demanding release.

Dawn had broken. His head throbbed, but the pain was nothing compared to the fire inside him; a new resolve hardened within him, born of rage. He shook, trying to contain the storm.

He was looking at the pendant, trying to control himself with his mother's portrait.

But he could not.

The usually mechanical and somber Leonard was gradually being consumed by anger.

He wanted to scream; to destroy everything. But only a whisper escaped through his lips:

"Bastards…!" His almost inaudible voice trembled while he clenched a fist.