Chapter 15: Chapter 15

From where he was standing, Fyn could see the village of Gashea.

The forest had never allowed him to be this close to the village. He can't help but reminisce about the times wherein he tried to escape. When he tried to go back to the life he was used to living outside the forest. Whenever he would walk or run towards where he was sure the village was located, he would always just find himself back at the foot of Kavan's cave.

This time, the village of Gashea was just a few feet away.

Without meaning to, tears prick the corner of Fyn's eyes and he couldn't help but let out a relieved breath. Shakily, he moves branches and vines blocking his path, his eyes steady on the village right in front of him. With every step he took, his heart felt more elated.

"This is real," He whispered to himself, his eyes still on the village. "I'm getting out."

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and ran.

Never once looking back.

And as softly as he could, he whispered to the wind, hoping it would reach Kavan, "I'm sorry."

Smiling to himself, Fyn ran as fast as his legs could carry him. The air didn't smell of leaves and plants anymore. And he can't help but be thankful for that. Even though the air reeked of smoke and sea, he greedily relished it all. Closing his eyes as he inhaled the polluted air. Wiping the sweat dripping from his forehead, he stopped running, bending forward to place his hands on his knees. Breathing heavily, he opened his eyes and looked around.

Only then did he realize how different everything looked.

Frowning, he rubbed his eyes, making sure he was really seeing what he was seeing. He was. The houses looked different; they looked old and almost rotten. Slowly, he trekked along the familiar path of the village, confusion building up inside of him. His heart beat faster the longer he tried to make sense of everything he saw seeing right in front of him.

He lived far from the village for as long as he could remember, but the square had never been this empty.

Where was everyone?

Looking up, Fyn squinted his eyes at the bright sun. He raised one of his hands to block the sun's rays from his eyes. Squinting, he mutters under his breath, "Maybe it's just too early."

That was the only reasonable explanation.

Once he reached the mouth of the river, Fyn almost turned into a sobbing mess once he saw his tent. His place wasn't much, but he loved it nevertheless. Smiling to himself, he started walking to his place, greedily sniffing the air again. It was like he was so used to just smelling leaves and dirt that everything remotely different was significantly better.

The smell of the sea almost made him cry.

Taking a deep breath, he placed his hands on his hips and stared out at the sea.

He froze.

The mouth of the river was clean and empty. There were no stacked up bodies that were blue and bulging. Blinking away his surprise, Fyn felt the hairs at the back of his neck rise, something heavy burning in the pit of his stomach. This was good, Fyn knew it was. Maybe the chief finally realized that they should clean up the bodies.

Maybe the villagers finally gave them proper burials.

That was the only reasonable explanation.

After one last look at the clean river, he turned around, biting the nail of his thumb. Everything felt different, even though it wasn't. Fyn didn't know how that was even possible. Cool air touches his cheeks and he hugged himself. Before he could stop it, the memory of Kavan building a fire for him made goosebumps rise on his skin. Shaking his head, he pinched himself.

"Stop it, Fyn." He reprimanded himself, "You can't have both."

It was either Kavan or freedom, and he knew he was choosing the right thing.

Hugging himself a little tighter, he tried his hardest not to imagine Havu coiling around his waist, and tried not to remember the warmth it felt when he had Kavan's arms around him. This was what he chose. And everything had consequences. He knew Kavan would be alright, he was Kavan after all.

He was strong and powerful. A small sickness like this won't bring him down.

Plus, from what Havu told him, he knew what he could do to help Kavan become better. Even with him staying outside the forest. Closing his eyes, he clenched his hands together and bowed his head.

"Prosperity," He prayed. Biting his lip, he stopped it from quivering, "... and forgiveness."

The prayer was for the demon within the forest. The demon ate prayers to make him feel alive and well. The prayer Fyn knew would reach Kavan. Once he was satisfied, Fyn opened his eyes, and with one last look towards the river, went inside his hut.

Frowning, Fyn tilted his head in confusion.

Crouching down, he lifted the leaf of one of his plants and looked at it closely. He already expected that some of them will die because he wasn't there to take care of them, but this was ridiculous. His plants had once looked colorful and vibrant, they were healthy before he left. Now, the plants slouched and kissed the soil, their stems torn and brown and dry, leaves were crumbling like ash whenever he touched them. His berry shrubs aren't even producing anything.

Furrowing his brows, Fyn noticed that most of his plants were like this.

Had it not rained once? Fyn recalled how Havu mentioned that Kavan was trying his hardest to get rid of the cause of the drought. When they were together, Kavan was in good spirits. Whatever was the cause of the drought was still out and about.

It wasn't Kavan. He was not the reason for the bad things happening in Gashea.

And did no one from the village even try to go to his place to water his plants out of respect? Shrugging, he knew the answer. Of course, no one would care. Sighing, Fyn knew it was too good to be true. The chief and the villagers might be kind enough to get rid of the bodies by the river, but they weren't that kind to check on his plants.

Scratching his cheek, Fyn was about to stand up when he noticed something a few feet away from him.

It was a basket.

His basket.

Leaning towards it, Fyn grabbed it and looked inside. The herbs he had placed there when the chief had abducted him were still there. However, now it was dry and dirty. Lifting his head, Fyn knew the basket was still there in the place he once stood. Cool air brushes his skin again, and he knew this was a clear sign that he should go inside to start a fire.

Fyn opened the door, and his mouth dropped open.

His hut was filled with dirt and dust and dried leaves. A blanket of dust on every single piece of furniture he had. Particles of dirt flew in the air. Corners of the ceiling had cobwebs and grime. Covering his nose, he slowly walked around, his eyes immediately zoning in on his open window. When they had abducted him, he got no chance to close it.

Grunting, he pulled the wooden cover of his window close, blocking the cool air from entering. Immediately, the sound of the wind disappears, and it left Fyn with utter deafening silence. It rang inside his ears and Fyn sighed, scratching the back of his neck.

This was fine. He was fine. He was used to this. He had always been alone. A few weeks with Havu and Kavan didn't change his preference, he still valued his solitude above everything else.

Slowly, Fyn stood up and walked towards his fireplace. Luckily, he collected a bunch of logs for fire the previous winter. He wasn't really in the mood to cut trees right now for fire, and he wasn't in the mood to go to trees to get branches either. For now, he was tired of seeing trees. Grabbing one, he frowned when he saw the layer of dust on it.

Blowing on it, he coughed, the dust getting into his nostrils, making his eyes water. Covering his nose with his sleeves, he throws the log into the fire. Lifting his free hand up, he grabbed the matches he kept on top of his fireplace. Grabbing a match, he swiftly strikes the head of the match against the side of the matchbox.

The fire instantly warmed him.

And like his brain was trying to hurt him, it brought memories of Kavan once more.

"Stop it, Fyn," He muttered to himself, running his hand through his hair, pulling his roots. "You want this."

With one last pinch to himself, Fyn stood and grabbed his broom.

He cleans his place, removing every bit of dust, dried leaves, cobwebs, dirt.

Removing everything that was left to rot inside his house when he had been away, living a life he didn't even know he could enjoy. In the company of a demon he once feared. The rhyme One for Sorrow couldn't even lift his spirits up.

His hut had never felt this spacious and empty.

Fyn stared at the dirt he collected when he heard something falling behind him.

Turning around quickly, he clutched his chest, almost feeling his heart about to jump out. Frantically, he lifted his broom and placed it in front of him, holding it like a sword. Before he could stop himself, the words jumped out of his mouth, "Stay back!"

When the shock had subsided, he blinked. Standing in front of him, just a few feet away, was Hana.

By her feet was a basket of dried herbs and spices.

Hana's face was pale, her lips trembling. Shakily, she covers her mouth with her hands, her eyes on Fyn. Unmoving, like she had just seen a ghost. Taking a cautious step forward, Fyn was surprised when Hana took a step back. Her head shaking from side to side, her arms hugging her belly.

Confused, Fyn was just about to speak when he noticed Hana's face.

She didn't look like Hana.

She didn't look like the Hana that Fyn remembered. She looked like the older version of herself. And when Fyn slowly dropped his head, his eyes landed on Hana's belly and shock coursed through his body. She was pregnant. Her stomach bulging and humongous. Fyn knew little about pregnancies, but it usually takes months before a woman's belly should grow that big.

Fyn knew that.

He knew there was no reasonable explanation as to why Hana was heavily pregnant in front of him when he had only been gone a few weeks. Hadn't he?

"Is that..." Hana's voice even sounded different to Fyn's ears. "Is that really you?"

Fyn stared, then he asked, "Hana?"

When he spoke, Hana turned paler. Fyn didn't even know that was possible. Her eyes started watering as she shook her head once more, as if not believing that it was really him in front of her. Was the guilt finally eating her alive?

Fyn couldn't even feel sorry.

He knew she deserved it.

"You're pregnant?" He asked, taking another step closer. "Is that why your father didn't offer you to the ceremony?"

Hana furrowed her brows, confusion crossing her face. "It's really you."

Fyn curled his lips in annoyance.

"It's me," He chuckled darkly, "Sorry I didn't die, Hana."

"Fyn," She breathed, tears dripping from her face. Fyn takes another step forward, making Hana take a step back, stumbling on something. She falls on her behind, her face pale and sweaty. "H-how are you alive? We thought... we thought the demon had killed you. This makes little sense. How are you... how are you in front of me right now?"

Fyn felt pure rage burn inside of him when Hana spoke of Kavan that way.

"He would never hurt me," He hissed through clenched teeth. "The past few weeks I've been with him, he never once tried to hurt me. He's not what-"

'He's not what we think he is' was what Fyn wanted to say, but Hana had cut him off.

"What did you say?"

Hana's voice turned soft and silent, her face stricken with pure panic and fear. Furrowing his brows, Fyn felt the hairs at the back of his neck rise as something cool entered his body and stayed there. His palms turned sweaty, and he felt his lips tremble.

"Fyn," Hana repeats, "What did you just say?"

"I said he's not what-"

"Before that."

Fyn had no idea what he just said. He couldn't even remember what he said. Hana's fear was making him scared, and it made little sense. Luckily, Hana helped him, "You said weeks, Fyn."

Nodding, Fyn wondered why Hana thought that was strange. Had it not been weeks?

Had he been gone for months?

"Yes," Fyn snarled, "Weeks! When your father had abducted me and threw me to the forest. Where is he? I want to give him a piece of my mind! Don't bother hiding him, that bastard!"

Hana shook her head, "I can't do that."

"What?" Fyn thundered, Hana was being an idiot for not listening to his demand. She was powerless against him. Especially now that she was pregnant. If it had been then, she might have easily defeated him, but now she would instead be worried about the child in her belly. Fyn silently prayed it would grow nothing like her or her father. "Take me to him now."

Hana shook her head again.

"I can't do that, Fyn," She sobbed, louder. "He's dead."

It didn't even surprise him. Chuckling darkly, Fyn shook his head, "What? The village finally killed him?"

"No," There was an expression on Hana's face that Fyn couldn't quite point out. She looked as if she was choosing her next words carefully, "He got sick, and he died, Fyn."

Fyn furrowed his brows, "He died that fast?"

"No Fyn," Hana said, her face serious. "He died years ago."

Something cool trickles inside of Fyn and he stared at Hana. Waiting for her to laugh, waiting for her to point her finger at him and cackle like a witch, like how she did when they had abducted him. Except Hana didn't do that. Hana gingerly stood up, careful not to stumble again, dusting off her knees and clothes. Her eyes on him, careful, tentative.

"He died years ago," She repeats, "You weren't gone for just weeks, Fyn."

Fyn shook his head.

There was no reasonable explanation for that.

"Fyn, you were gone for years."