Lucius staggered, each step sending sharp waves of pain through his injured leg. Blood dripped from his wounds, staining the ground beneath him, His vision blurred as he forced himself onward, toward the cave where his mother's lifeless body lay.
A sharp sting of pain brought his focus back to the path ahead. His breath came in ragged bursts, and his steps faltered. He spotted an old wooden cart by the side of the path, overturned and half-burnt from the pirate raid. Next to it, a shovel lay buried in the dirt.
His heart clenched.
Lucius bent down, grabbing the shovel with trembling hands. It was heavy, or maybe it was just that his body was drained, worn beyond its limits. He dragged the shovel behind him, its metal edge scraping against the earth as he made his way back to the cave.
Once he reached the small clearing near the cave, Lucius stood still, staring at the ground. His eyes stung with unshed tears.
With shaky hands, he pressed the shovel into the earth. The soil was hard and unyielding, Each thrust of the shovel sent waves of pain through his injured leg, but Lucius grit his teeth and kept digging. Sweat mixed with the dirt on his face, and his breath became labored as the grave slowly took shape.
Finally, when the grave was deep enough, Lucius leaned on the shovel, his body trembling from exhaustion. He wiped his brow with a dirty sleeve, casting one final glance toward the cave.
Dragging his feet, Lucius gathered several large leaves from nearby trees, using them to line the grave with the same care his mother had once shown him. The leaves rustled softly in the still air as he placed them at the bottom, their deep green contrasting with the dark soil beneath.
It was time.
Lucius stood over his mother's body, his breath catching in his throat. Her face was still, peaceful even, as if she was merely asleep. But the blood on her head and the lifelessness in her eyes told him the truth.
"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…" Lucius whispered, his voice breaking as he knelt beside her. He gently lifted her body, his small arms struggling under her weight. Every movement sent sharp pains through his injured leg.
He placed her gently on the bed of leaves, arranging her as if she were just resting, as if she could wake at any moment. His hands lingered on her for a moment longer, shaking uncontrollably. Tears brimmed in his eyes, but he fought to keep them from falling.
Before covering her, he hesitated, staring down at her face for one final time.
"Goodbye, Mom…" His voice cracked, barely more than a whisper.
He covered her with more of the large leaves, layer by layer, until she was hidden from sight. The silence around him was deafening, broken only by the soft rustling of the leaves as he worked. Lucius stood there for what felt like an eternity, staring down at the grave, his heart aching.
With a deep breath, Lucius picked up the shovel again. His body screamed in protest, but he ignored the pain. Slowly, he began to cover the grave with soil,
Finally, the last bit of dirt fell into place, the grave sealed.
Lucius sank to his knees, clutching the shovel tightly as silent sobs wracked his small body. Tears streamed down his face, mixing with the dirt and blood, but no sound escaped his lips. He had promised himself he wouldn't cry—not yet. But now, there was nothing left to hold onto.
Lucius stood at the mouth of the cave, his body trembling with exhaustion and grief. His heart felt like a stone, heavy and unmoving. The grave was filled, his mother now lying beneath the earth. He wanted to stay, to sit by her side forever, but he couldn't. There were others, people who had once smiled at him, given him bread when he was hungry, ruffled his hair as he passed by. They deserved a proper burial too.
Lucius turned back to the cave, his eyes lingering on the entrance where his mother's body had once rested. For a moment, everything seemed to blur—the trees, the sky, the ground beneath him. His vision wavered, and a lump formed in his throat.
"Goodbye, Mom..." he whispered, his voice barely audible in the quiet forest.
Lucius picked up the shovel again, the wood of its handle rough against his blistered palms. It felt heavier than before,
As he began his walk back to the village, the sound of the shovel scraping against the ground echoed in his ears. The forest, once alive with the sound of birds and wind rustling through the leaves, seemed to have gone silent. Even nature, it seemed, was mourning.
The closer Lucius got to the village, the more the smell of death hit him. It was overwhelming, a thick stench of blood, burned wood, and rotting flesh. His stomach churned, but he forced himself forward. There was no turning back.
The village had been reduced to ruin. Bodies lay scattered everywhere—men, women, children. People he had known, people he had laughed with, shared meals with. Their faces were twisted in agony, their limbs broken and bent in ways that no human body should be. Some of them were barely recognizable, the marks of pirate cruelty clear in every wound, every broken bone.
Lucius stared down at the lifeless forms, his chest tightening with each step. His eyes fell on the body of a small child, no older than him, lying face down in the dirt. The child's arm was stretched out as if they had been reaching for someone, anyone, in their final moments.
Lucius's grip on the shovel tightened as he knelt beside the first body. His hands shook as he began digging, the dirt turning dark with his sweat and tears.
One by one, he dug graves for the villagers—each one a fresh wound in his heart. His muscles burned, his hands bled from the rough wood of the shovel, but he didn't stop. Every person deserved to be laid to rest, no matter how broken their body, no matter how much blood had been spilled.
Each grave he dug was a silent scream, a cry for the life he had lost.
With every body he buried, a part of him felt like it was being buried too—his innocence, his childhood, everything that had once been good in his life. This village, this home, had become a graveyard.
Lucius dragged his aching body to the shore, every step a painful reminder of the physical and emotional toll the day had taken on him. The shovel had been abandoned somewhere along the way, its handle worn and splintered from hours of digging graves. He was exhausted—more than he had ever been—but something compelled him to keep moving.
As he reached the beach, the sea stretched out before him like a vast, endless abyss. The water, calm and quiet, reflected the darkening sky. Waves lapped at the shore, a soft, rhythmic sound that almost seemed mocking in its peace.
Lucius stood there, his chest rising and falling heavily with each breath. The wind whipped at his torn clothes, carrying with it the scent of saltwater and blood. His mind was blank, emptied by the day's horrors, but deep down, one question gnawed at him: What do I do now?
He had buried the dead, his mother included. The village was gone, the people who had once been his world reduced to memories and soil.
The path of revenge had taken him this far, but now what? He had no home, no family, and barely enough strength to stand. He stared out at the sea, trying to find an answer in its endless expanse.
Then, suddenly, in the distance, something caught his eye.
A ship.
It appeared slowly on the horizon, cutting through the water like a predator stalking its prey. As it drew closer, Lucius squinted, making out the details through his blurred vision. It was massive, a hulking beast of wood and steel, its sails billowing in the wind.
But what truly made his heart race was the flag.
High above the deck, the black banner snapped in the breeze, bearing the unmistakable mark of pirates. At the center of the flag was a skull, but unlike the simple, bore a thick, curled mustache. The crossbones beneath it were arranged vertically.
Lucius's blood ran cold as he realized the enormity of what was heading straight toward the island. His instincts screamed at him to run, to hide, but there was nowhere left to go.
His eyes darted toward the bow he had left behind earlier. His hands clenched into fists as he recalled the arrows he had left—only four remained. It wasn't much, but it was all he had.
With grim determination, Lucius ran back to where his bow lay hidden in the trees. His legs threatened to give out beneath him with each step, his injuries screaming for him to stop, but he pushed through the pain. He grabbed the bow, his hands trembling as he nocked an arrow, feeling the weight of the weapon once more.
He moved slowly, his entire body protesting with each agonizing movement. His heart pounded in his chest, No matter how broken he was, no matter how outnumbered he might be, he had to keep fighting.
The ship was now close enough that Lucius could see the figures moving on deck—pirates. They were bustling about, preparing to dock. He raised his bow, aiming toward them, his vision wavering as sweat dripped into his eyes. His body felt like it was on fire, every muscle screaming in agony, but he held steady.
He pulled the bowstring back, his fingers trembling as he aimed for the nearest figure, a man standing near the bow of the ship.
But just as he was about to release the arrow, something inside him snapped. His body, already pushed far beyond its limits, gave out. His vision blurred, the world spinning around him in a haze of exhaustion and pain. The bow slipped from his hands, and his knees buckled beneath him.
Lucius fell to the ground, the world darkening around him. He gasped for air, but his lungs felt like they were on fire. Through the haze, he caught a glimpse of something—no, someone—approaching him from the ship.
A figure, young and tall, with wild, spiky hair that stood out even in his fading vision. The hair was bright yellow, almost like a pineapple, swaying with the wind as the figure moved closer.
Lucius's world began to fade, his vision going black as consciousness slipped away. The last thing he saw was the smirk on the stranger's face, and then, nothing.
The world went dark.
(To be continued…)