A star fading away

Echoes of Ossian

I held his small, now lifeless body close to mine for what felt like an eternity, my mind unable to fully grasp the reality of what had just happened. His warmth was fading, slipping through my fingers like sand, and yet, I couldn't bring myself to let go. His face, still soft and peaceful in death, haunted me with the innocence he'd never get to fulfill.

My heart ached, a dull, suffocating pain that made each breath feel heavier than the last. How had I failed him? How had I let this happen? The answers eluded me, and with each passing second, the weight of my loss grew heavier.

The world around me seemed to blur, my vision foggy, and the ground beneath me felt unsteady, like it could crumble at any moment. But I couldn't move. I couldn't leave him. I just… needed a moment. A moment that felt endless.

Time passed without meaning. His body grew cold in my arms, but I couldn't bring myself to accept it. The bond we shared, the love we had—was that all it amounted to in the end? A fleeting memory?

I whispered his name over and over, my voice trembling with a desperation I couldn't control, but there was no answer. No response. Only the oppressive silence of loss.

Tears fell freely, mixing with the rain that began to pour. The storm outside matched the chaos within me, but nothing could bring him back. Nothing could undo the moment I had failed him.

I called out his name again and again, my voice breaking as I gently shook him, desperate for any sign that he might wake up. But there was nothing. No breath. No flutter of his eyelids. He was gone, and I couldn't bring myself to accept it.

Time seemed to stretch on forever as I sat there, clutching him to my chest, hoping for a miracle that never came. The pain was unbearable. My hands trembled as I held him, his little body so cold in my arms. It was as if the world had stopped moving around us, leaving me trapped in a nightmare of my own making.

The rain began to fall, its icy droplets a cruel contrast to the warmth of my grief. It cut through me, biting and harsh, yet somehow, it felt less cold than the emptiness inside. I didn't know how long I had been there—minutes? Hours? Days? Everything was a blur, the world spinning around me while I remained motionless, frozen in my sorrow.

The realization hit me like a slap to the face. I was alone now, and nothing could change that. His peaceful smile, frozen on his face, haunted me. It was as though he had drifted off into a slumber, free from pain, free from everything. But I couldn't join him in that peace. Not yet.

I stumbled to my feet, my legs unsteady as I carried him back to the mansion. The weight of his small body seemed to drag me down, but I refused to let go. I couldn't.

As I reached the mansion's door, the storm outside felt like a reflection of the storm within me. The air was thick with tension as the head of the family and a group of elders rushed toward me. They tore him from my arms with cold hands, and I couldn't comprehend the frantic words they shouted at me. Their faces were contorted with rage, and their hands gripped me by my collar, shaking me violently.

But all I could do was stare at his face—his peaceful, serene face.

My mind was numb. I couldn't process what was happening, couldn't hear anything but the pounding of my own heart. I couldn't focus on the anger in their voices, nor the venom in their eyes. All I could think of was him.

Finally, I turned my gaze away, meeting the eyes of my father. The hatred there was palpable, but as our eyes locked, something unsettling happened—his eyes gleamed with a satisfaction I couldn't quite place. It wasn't just hatred; it was a deep, quiet pleasure, a subtle, almost imperceptible grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. It was as if he had been waiting for this moment, savoring it, knowing all along what the outcome would be.

That realization hit me like a cold wave. In that instant, I understood. He didn't want them to see me as the victim. No, he wanted them to see me as something else. Someone responsible for the tragedy that had unfolded. Someone guilty. He wanted them to blame me.

It was his plan all along.

He had manipulated everything. Every move, every step that had led me here. All of it had been a carefully orchestrated scheme to turn the world against me, to make me the villain in their eyes, from the moment he had me to train to protect him to our escape. The cold grin on his face was the confirmation of that—he had won, and I had walked right into it, oblivious to his true intentions. 

The suffocating weight of betrayal pressed down on me, making it hard to breathe. How could I have been so blind? How had I missed it? 

It was obvious now that he knew. He had been waiting patiently for this moment all along. The sense of betrayal that flooded through me was suffocating, but at the same time, there was an unsettling clarity. We had never truly been free from him. 

His manipulations, his machinations—everything had been set in motion long before our escape. Every move, every false hope we clung to, was part of his plan. He had been watching, waiting for the precise moment to strike. Our fleeting taste of freedom had been nothing more than an illusion, a brief respite before the inevitable consequence of his actions.

The realization crashed over me like a tidal wave. We had thought we had outrun him, that we had slipped through his grasp. But we were fools. He had always known where we would go, what we would do. He had foreseen it all, from the very beginning. 

It was as if we were pawns in his game, trapped in an endless cycle, never truly escaping his reach. Even now, as I stood before him, I realized with a hollow sense of dread that no matter how far we ran, no matter how hard we tried, we could have never been free. 

His eyes—those cold, calculating eyes—only reaffirmed what I already knew. We were never truly free. We had only been biding our time, waiting for the moment when he would reel us back in.

Just like that he could get rid of us both. 

His plan had always been to make me a monster in the eyes of those who mattered most, to isolate me, to strip me of everything. And now, here I was, trapped in his web of lies, with no way to escape. 

I felt the anger rise within me—sharp and consuming—but it quickly dulled, replaced by an overwhelming sense of despair. It wasn't just my own life he had shattered. It was everything. Everything I had ever believed in. And as I stood there, facing my father's unspoken victory, I realized that I was all alone . Again. 

My eyes fell on her—his mother. Her frail form rushed toward me, her face twisted in desperation. "My son…" she cried, reaching out to me, her hands trembling as she clutched my shoulders. "What did you do to him? What happened to my child?"

I wanted to scream. I wanted to tell her everything, to explain that I hadn't wanted this, that I hadn't meant for it to happen. But my voice wouldn't come. I couldn't speak.

She shook me violently, her tears staining my clothes, her voice cracking with the weight of her grief. "I should have never trusted you… What have you done?" Her words were like knives, cutting through me with every syllable. And then, in a moment of raw anguish, she dropped to her knees, cradling her son's lifeless form against her chest. She whispered his name over and over, but I couldn't help her. I couldn't do anything.

I watched, numb, as she wept.

Was he always this small?

Her expression was no longer that of the cold, distant woman I had always known. The walls she had built around herself had shattered, and for the first time, I saw her as a mother—utterly broken and lost.

I remembered the rare moments when she allowed her smile to shine. When I'd caught her gaze while holding her son in my arms beneath the tree while he slept pacefully. Her smile was beautiful—like a rare, precious thing. She had only ever smiled for him, and I envied him for it.

Now, her smile was gone, replaced by a grief that I couldn't undo.

"I… I couldn't… I couldn't save him… I am in hell," I whispered, my voice cracking under the weight of everything I couldn't change. The tears that had been threatening to spill over finally fell, and I was lost in a flood of sorrow. I was drowning in the realization that I had failed him. I had failed both of them.

And now, there was nothing left but the silence.