A heavy fog rolled down the terrace houses, bringing with it a light waft of perfume from the nobles who lived above. The damp cobbled streets were barely lit, illuminated only by narrow candlelights. Moonlight filled the spaces not touched by the warm, flickering glow. The earthy smell of the roads barely masked the decay hidden in every crevice and corner.

Quinn walked past a pair of rats fighting for scraps of rotten meat. Seeing him, they scurried up the stone stairs he had just descended. The autumn season, in Quinn's opinion, always brought the most beautiful views. No buildings blocked his view down the stairs towards the dark, slow-moving river, shimmering in the moonlight and possessing an infinite depth within its reflection. The moon was full tonight, appearing larger than some of the clouds in the sky.

Quinn passed nine desolate statues with each turn he took on his way home. As a library assistant, he had the privilege of observing the nobles daily and the blessing of being surrounded by books to read during his breaks. However, the hours were long, and the days often uneventful. Quinn woke early each morning, climbing many stairs to the upper-middle level where the libraries were located, and left late at night to return to his modest home. Despite the demanding routine, he remained deeply grateful for the opportunity his grandfather had secured for him.

Passing under an overhead bridge, Quinn entered a courtyard encircled by two-story tall buildings. The words “Eden Court” were engraved boldly on the side of the bridge, revealing its name to all who passed. In the center of the court stood a poignant statue of two children, a brother and sister, clasping a fruit basket between them. Turning right, he approached the familiar home he shared with his grandfather. The flicker of candlelight behind the curtains was a comforting signal that his grandfather was still awake, as he often was. Sometimes, his shadow would playfully peek through the curtains, hinting at his presence.

Upon opening the front door, a cloud of dust stirred into the air, causing Quinn to cough slightly from the unexpected inhalation. Waving his hand in front of his face with a mild frown, he shed his scarf and jacket, setting them aside.

“You need to go outside and enjoy the day’s breeze, Grandfather. Staying inside all day isn’t healthy for you,” Quinn voiced his concerns aloud, pausing as he waited for some response from his grandfather. However, only silence persisted, thickening the air with unspoken words and unaddressed worries.

The air inside was chilling, drawing Quinn's eyes to the dying embers of the fireplace. He sighed exasperatedly to himself and began tending to the fire, his thoughts wandering. 'I wonder what keeps him so preoccupied every day...' he mused silently.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

The autumn season was particularly harsh for the poor in the slums of Torruin, especially without fire. Quinn had no desire to endure the freezing cold like them, and he didn't want his grandfather to suffer either. "Grandfather, have you eaten?" he called out, his stomach reminding him of its own hunger with a growing need for a biscuit. Yet, the silence in the house remained unbroken.

A wave of concern began to swell in Quinn's heart. Why was his grandfather so silent? Had he gone to bed and forgotten to extinguish the candle? Unable to bear the uncertainty, Quinn decided to check on his grandfather.

Each step Quinn took on the wooden stairs creaked underfoot, and the air grew noticeably colder as he ascended. "Grandfather?" he called out again when he reached the top of the stairwell, hoping his earlier calls had simply gone unheard. Yet, the silence persisted, unyielding and heavy.

Approaching the door, the flicker of candlelight seeping from underneath it caught his eye. He paused, a moment of hesitation overtaking him before he could muster the courage to knock. An inexplicable urge made him turn to glance into the darkness of his room, but there was nothing there. Shaking off the feeling, he knocked on the door and, after a brief pause, pushed it open.

The door opened slowly, creaking on its hinges, to reveal his grandfather's desk, cluttered and empty. The lantern above still burned, casting a dim glow across the room. Quinn's heart clung to the hope of finding his grandfather resting in bed, but that hope shattered as the door swung fully open, revealing the grim scene that awaited him. His grandfather's body hung lifelessly from the ceiling, swaying gently from a toppled chair.

Overwhelmed by a cold dread, Quinn felt his heart plummet into his stomach as a chilling shiver raced up his spine. "Grandfather!" he cried out, his voice choked with terror, while tears streamed uncontrollably down his face.

He rushed to his grandfather's already cold body, hugging his knees in a desperate attempt to reverse the irreversible. With great effort and trembling hands, Quinn managed to undo the rope. His grandfather’s body, now freed, limped forward and dropped lifelessly onto the floor. Quinn knelt down, embracing his grandfather, his cries filling the room. "Why? Why! WHY!?" he shouted, his voice breaking as he pounded his fist into the floor, consumed by a mix of rage and confusion.

The only man to whom Quinn owed everything was now gone, taken by his own hand. Gerald Spade, Quinn’s adoptive father, had rescued him from a frigid, desolate life when he was just twelve years old. Over the past eight years, Gerald Spade had done so much for him, and yet, here he lay... lifeless and gone.

Tears continued to flow as Quinn cried into his grandfather's shoulder, feeling small and helpless once more. "Why did you do it? I was here for you!" he sobbed, his voice thick with grief and confusion. Gritting his teeth, he struggled with a turmoil of emotions, his mind overwhelmed by the heat of despair. Over and over, he could only cry and mutter "why" as he slumped deeper into the embrace of his lifeless grandfather.

The night was long and somber. Tonight—was another night of decay for Torruin.