Beneath the Weight

The room felt dull, empty, and grey. Evryn sat in silence, hollow inside, as if all his emotions had faded except for sorrow.

Mira's hand was still in his, her warmth lingering even as the life within her had slipped away. He just stared at their hands, unsure of what to do.

This was the second time someone close to him had died—and he had failed again. Failed to protect her, to be there for her. Now, she lay motionless in this bed, gone.

Since that tragic day long ago, Evryn had vowed to never let anyone he cared for die alone again. He would hold onto their memories, even if the world forgot them.

He wanted to cry, but he couldn't. The grief sat heavy in his chest, suffocating yet silent.

He sat there, still holding her hand, lost in the stillness.

Then, slowly, he rose to his feet. He didn't want to let go, but he forced himself to. Gently, he placed her hands together over her chest, folding them as if she were simply asleep.

Taking the blanket, he pulled it over her body, wrapping her as if to shield her from the cold.

Then, without hesitation, he lifted her into his arms, carrying her like a sleeping princess.

The wooden floor creaked beneath his steps as he approached the door. Reaching out with his left hand, he turned the knob and stepped out into the hallway.

Two people stood nearby, lost in quiet conversation.

At first, they barely noticed him.

"Hey, you need to—" One of them started, but his voice trailed off when he saw the body wrapped in Evryn's arms.

Evryn walked past them without a word. They didn't try to stop him. They only watched.

He descended the stairs, each step creaking under his weight.

The moment he reached the bottom, the entire room fell silent. Dozens of eyes turned toward him.

It pissed him off—how they all just stared at him. But at the same time, he understood.

It wasn't every day someone carried a lifeless body through the inn.

Not that it mattered to him anymore.

He didn't care about their stares.

He just didn't want to leave her.

Without sparing anyone a glance, he made his way toward the front doors, stepping outside without looking back.

The sun shone brightly, almost mockingly, as if the world hadn't just been reduced to ruin. The wind blew fast, carrying with it the thick scent of ash and burnt wood.

To his left, where the village once stood—full of life, full of voices—now lay only charred remains. The wind carried the scent of destruction in his direction, stirring his hair.

Stepping off the porch onto the dirt pathway, the cold soil met the soles of his feet, sending a tingling sensation up his legs.

He turned left, heading into the ruined village.

As he walked past crumbled buildings and half-standing remnants of homes, memories rushed back—how he had run through these streets, desperate, searching for her while flames swallowed everything.

Then he passed the well. Somehow, it still stood untouched, unscathed. It was almost comforting, seeing it there—one small piece of the past that hadn't been lost.

But his feet didn't stop.

Before long, he stood before what remained of Mira's coffee shop.

Slowly, gently, he lowered her body to the ground, careful not to hurt her—even though she was already gone.

His eyes drifted to the rubble. By some stroke of luck, a shovel lay there, half-buried in the ruins. It had survived.

Carefully, he stepped into the wreckage, moving over shattered glass and broken beams, mindful of where he placed his feet.

Reaching down, he grasped the shovel's handle, pulling it free from the debris. Then, with quiet resolve, he returned to Mira's side and lifted her once more.

Carrying her behind the destroyed shop, he laid her down once again.

Then, gripping the shovel, he began to dig.

He didn't know if this was what she would have wanted.

But from the way she spoke of this place, the way she enjoyed it, he knew it was the closest thing to home she had.

So, this was the best place for her to rest.

After a while, he had dug a deep enough hole to lay her body in. He stepped back into the ruined coffee shop, searching for wooden planks that were still intact.

It took some time, but he found a few. Picking them up, he walked back to the hole he had dug and jumped down.

He laid the planks down evenly, then took two more and pressed them into the dirt on either side, ensuring they stayed upright.

Climbing out, he carefully lifted Mira's body once more, then descended back into the grave.

Gently, he laid her covered form in the small wooden casket he had built.

With slow, deliberate movements, he took the last three planks and placed them over her.

He climbed out again and began shoveling the dirt back in, his hands steady but his chest heavy.

Time passed. The grave was sealed. The freshly packed dirt stood out against the ground, an undeniable sign of loss.

His eyes lingered on it for a long moment before he noticed a wooden pole nearby.

Walking over, he picked it up and returned to the grave, driving it firmly into the ground—a marker, a silent declaration that she had lived.

Sweat dripped down his face, soaking into his bandages. His feet, bare and dirtied from rubble and dust, ached with exhaustion.

A deep sigh escaped him as he stared at the grave.

Mira was gone. But she wouldn't be forgotten.

At least not by him.

***

Evryn made his way back to the inn, his steps steady but weighed down by everything that had happened.

As he approached, Helaine stood outside, her hand resting on her hip while the other swung loosely by her side. Her expression was a mix of frustration and impatience. But, despite the tension in the air, a small warmth spread in Evryn's chest. It felt good to see someone alive, someone he was starting to care about.

After Mira's passing, he realized something important. It didn't matter how long he'd known these people—what mattered was how they treated one another, how they made him feel. Someone could make an enormous impact in a single day, simply by being kind and real. That's what Mira had done for him, and it was what his friends—Helaine, Razek, and the others—were starting to do too.

A small smirk tugged at his lips. Well, damn, mira. I guess you really were right…

Suddenly, a loud voice broke through his thoughts. "Evryn! Didn't I say I'd do something to you if you left the room? Now guess what!"

Razek giggled mischievously, clearly enjoying the drama unfolding in front of him, like a child watching a sibling about to get an earful from their mom.

Evryn didn't respond. He just kept walking toward Helaine, who was now standing right in front of him.

"I bandaged you up, took care of you, and looked after you… and this is how you repay me!" Helaine's fist tightened as if she was ready to punch him.

Before she could act, Evryn pulled her into a tight hug. Her body stiffened in surprise, and her eyes widened.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice soft but sincere.

For a moment, Helaine froze, then softened. She hugged him back, her tension dissolving. "You're welcome," she said, a small smile playing on her lips.

"Aww, Helly being sweet to Evryn," Razek teased, making a mock "girly" pose, clearly trying to get under Helaine's skin.

Helaine pulled back from Evryn with a small glare, then turned to Razek. "Razek, I'm so tired of you!" she snapped.

"Uh-oh! Okay, okay, I'm sorry!" Razek threw his hands up in mock surrender, then turned to Evryn with wide eyes. "Help me, Evryn!"

Evryn, still holding his side from Helaine's hit, looked over at them, a smile tugging at his lips. The warmth of their playful banter brought a sense of peace. It was nice to have these two by his side. Along with Cyrus, they were all he needed right now.