Thomas heard birdsongs and felt the sweet, warm weather. A gentle breeze wafted over him, as if heaven were welcoming newcomers in such a manner. His eyes were closed as he remembered what had happened before he died. He still felt the weight of sadness from the memory of the night of the attack. He lay down for a while, listening to the birds and trying not to dwell on his failure. He decided to get up a few minutes later; maybe there would be angels nearby. But what was that feeling? He sensed something pressing on him. He opened his eyes wide. What was this place? He was in a burned-down home, and the weight seemed like it came from a broken wood piece, and it certainly didn't look like heaven. He blinked a few times and then touched his body. It seemed like he was alive. The appearance of the house was similar... He stepped outside to see the situation, only to find the ruins of the once-lovely village of Slyvanbrook. His legs suddenly refused to carry him as he recalled what had happened the previous night, causing him to collapse to his knees. A sharp pain was cutting through his head. He started to retch, though there was nothing in his stomach.

The sight was terrible. There were the bodies of everyone he knew. His neighbors, friends, even Mr. Hanks lay a bit further from where he was. There wasn't a single building still standing. Everywhere was covered in ashes, and the hands of the grim reaper were visible. His sword also shone from a bit far away. It was where he had fought Grimmclaw. He worriedly started to run toward his home to find his parents under some rubble. They seemed like they were made out of coal. The view was enough to make him sick. He dug their bodies out, hugged both of them, and cried, his voice echoing around the village. What did he do to deserve such a fate? Why was he still alive in the first place? His wounds were still there, but they were not even close to being fatal. He began to question himself. He tried to remember stories from the Bible, but he couldn't. No, this scene couldn't be real. God would not allow such a thing. He was always there, watching over and protecting them.

After a while, holding his parents with a dead look in his eye, he saw something on the small hill. There was a small pillar standing there. It was mostly burnt, but it was there, rising among the ashes, where the old church used to stand. He remembered Father Elias. He wondered which verse he would read to him if he was here. He was hoping that maybe some people had escaped from everything that happened yesterday. But deep down, he knew that such a thing wasn't possible.

After crying until his eyes dried, he got up. Wanting to honor the village, he started to climb the small hill. The sight was no different from anything else in the village. Even a human-shaped burnt thing, which probably belonged to Father Elias, lay down. He couldn't look at it and turned his gaze into the ground instead, hoping that it was just ashes of a statue or something, to realize something between the ashes. He knelt down to take it. It was a Bible, surprisingly unhurt. It had to be God's work. He slowly picked it up from the ground and automatically opened a random verse. It was a verse about death, talking about the importance of a proper burial or burning process. As he remembered what ash meant to him, he decided to bury the people of the village instead. After a long time, it was the first time Thomas felt the presence of God with him. However, he wasn't feeling happy about what had happened. He still wasn't sure why he had to endure such pain. He started to cry once again, as tears still ran from his cheeks. He didn't want to say goodbye to anyone. He would be truly alone after that. What if there were still people alive somewhere in the village? He started to run through the village until he tripped over a stone and fell. He wasn't feeling the pain, though. He reached the rubble of the nearest house to look for somebody underneath, pushing ashes and searching. But in every house he checked, there was nobody around. Maybe they had escaped when he had phased away, he hoped. But knowing that was not even a possibility. He now stood where the famous cozy tavern was supposed to be. The sun was about to set, and he could feel the weather getting a bit colder with every passing second.

But what could he do? Perhaps he had to start a fire. However, there wasn't a single wood piece he could use, except from the dark forest. Just looking at those mighty trees from a distance was enough to make him crumble. He didn't want to go there again; he didn't want to leave the village at all. But he would probably freeze there if he didn't. Besides, he still had to say goodbyes to his people in the village. Thinking of that, he reluctantly went to his sword. It was his first time grabbing it after the battle he had lost. He had failed to protect those who meant everything to him. He was a failure, perhaps one of the reasons behind all that had happened. If only he had been stronger.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

He started to go toward the forest with these thoughts in his mind [https://img.wattpad.com/b76cfc2302a6f4bbb4f3eacbead4268f9815fb8f/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f386a5351315078546959617465513d3d2d313339343037363430392e3137393536363635636432326665336234373739313534333239352e6a7067?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]

He started to go toward the forest with these thoughts in his mind. He began to collect wood pieces from the ground. It required three visits to gather enough wood from the old city center. But he realized an awful smell on his last return, as if something was rotting. He was quick to figure out what that was but decided to ignore it for a bit. The sun was about to set anyway. He prepared a bed for the wood and then sat down to start a fire. He had started fires often in the forest back in the day, so he was knowledgeable about several ways to start a fire. However, his hand wasn't moving. He began to shake as he thought about fire. But now the sun was gone, and everywhere was covered in darkness. He had to build the fire to survive. The worst part was that wolves might come from the forest since there was no light, and the smell was an invitation for them. He tried not to think about it and closed his eyes. He felt something he had never experienced as the heat of flames warmly licked his face. He didn't want to be near the fire. He wanted to escape; he wanted to extinguish the fire. However, he knew that he was desperately in need of the fire. So he sat down and silently began to look at the flames.

After sitting down and thinking about his happier days in the village, Thomas began to realize that he was truly alone now. He had nobody and nothing in life, except for that rusty sword and the necklace around his neck. He didn't even have clothes. Exhausted with all these thoughts, he went to sleep without even realizing. A small smile appeared on his face as he began to dream about his happier days.

He woke up to reality in the dawn once again. He still held on to the hope that everything in his memory was merely a bad nightmare. At this point, he was done with crying, though. He quickly rose to his feet and began to search for the bodies of his fellow villagers.

He carried each one to the ruins of the tavern, their favorite gathering place. He believed it to be a fitting eternal resting place for them. Haea, Mr. Hanks, the figure he hoped not to be Elias, his parents, his friends, his neighbors... As he carried the last person to the field, he began to sing a divine song, wishing a peaceful journey to everyone in the village. Returning to his mother's side, he gently kissed her forehead. She had always been the most important person in the world to him. And to his father. His father was always a bit harsh on him. But he knew that he was a mere wisher for the best for his son. He hugged his father and said "I will make you proud no matter what father. Just watch me over!" Afterward, he began the task of burying everyone using the shovel he had found. He finished just as the sun reached on top. He offered a prayer for the safety of each soul and then stabbed the shovel into the ground. It served as a marker for the eternal resting place of the remarkable people of Slyvanbrook. Perhaps someday, someone would uncover the history of this lovely village. They would share his sorrow and offer prayers for the good people who lost their lives there.

After the prayers, Thomas picked up his sword and set out on foot along the cobblestone road. His destination was the Town. He needed to report the events to someone there and had to be quick. Perhaps he could reach there before dusk. However, he remained aware that Grimmclaw might still be lurking near the road. He considered that maybe he should have taken an alternate path. Also, he probably should have gone under the tree that he used to work his sword skills to pick up his book. He was lucky that he stored his book there. As he has drawn in these thoughts, he took one last look at Slyvanbrook. All that remained were rubles, ashes, the church's pillar, and the shovel that marked the eternal resting place of the villagers. He knew he was leaving behind everything he had known until now. It broke his heart, but his life had been taken from his hands. He held just one thought in his mind now: he had to become a Knight to ensure that nobody else would experience such pain again. And Grimmclaw had to pay. He turned around and started on his journey with a mix of anger, sorrow, and determination, vanishing into the woods in the blink of an eye. As he set forth on his journey, a bird landed on the handle of the shovel. Perhaps someday, flowers would bloom once more in Slyvanbrook.