The air was thick with the stench of smoke and fear. Somewhere in the distance, echoes of panicked cries lingered, but for Mary, the world had gone silent.

She stirred, caught in a dream that felt more like a tethered memory. Arlen stood before her—small, fragile, and bathed in a pale, fading light. His face was blurred, softened at the edges, as though the wind itself were erasing him.

“No… Arlen!” she whispered, her voice trembling. She reached out, her arms shaking, desperate to grab hold of him. But the harder she tried, the further he drifted, like a shadow slipping beyond the horizon.

“Don’t go! Please, don’t go!” Tears streamed down her face as she cried out. But Arlen didn’t turn back. His image dissolved into darkness, leaving her alone in an endless void.

A gasp tore through her chest as she woke.

“Arlen!” she cried, bolting upright, her face damp with tears.

The world around her spun as her eyes adjusted to the chaos. John knelt beside her, his hands gripping her shoulders. Lena hovered nearby, pale with worry, clutching Theo, who looked close to tears.

“You’re awake,” John said, his voice strained. “Mary, stay still—”

“Where is he?” she cut him off, her voice sharp and unsteady. “Where is Arlen?”

John blinked, his lips parting to answer, but no words came. His eyes darted toward the broken carriage behind them. “He’s… he’s over—” His voice faltered as realization struck.

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Arlen wasn’t there.

Mary’s heart dropped, her breath catching in her throat. “No…” she whispered, her voice cracking. “No, no, no!”

Her hands clutched John’s tunic, shaking him as though she could pull the truth out of him. “Why didn’t you protect him? Why didn’t you protect my son?”

Her cries erupted into raw, anguished sobs as she struck at John’s chest with trembling fists. He didn’t stop her, his face pale and etched with guilt.

Lena, her own tears flowing, hugged Theo tightly. “They’ll find him… they’ll find him,” she whispered, her voice thin, as though saying the words would make them true.

Mary’s legs gave way, and she collapsed onto the dusty ground. Her body trembled violently as she clung to the hope that this was all a nightmare. “Bring him back…” she murmured, her voice cracking. “Please, bring him back…”

John tried to steady her, his hands reaching for hers, but she shoved him away, her grief consuming her.

“I can’t lose him,” Mary whispered, her voice fragile. “I can’t lose my son…”

The words slipped from her lips like a confession, hollow and unbidden. Every breath felt like a weight pressing against her chest. The world around her blurred—chaos and noise fading into a silence so deep it felt alive.

John’s voice broke through the fog, soft and pleading. “Mary, we’ll find him. We’ll—”

“No!” Her scream cut through the air. She shot up, ignoring the dizziness that followed, her hands reaching out as if she could physically pull Arlen from the shadows. “I won’t lose him! I won’t let him be gone!” Her voice broke under the weight of her sobs.

Lena, standing beside them, held Theo tighter. His wide, young eyes glistened with unshed tears, his small face frozen in fear. “We’re looking, Mama,” Lena said, her voice quivering. “We’ll find him. We will. We have to. Please…”

But Mary didn’t hear her. She was too far gone, her mind lost in the swirling storm of her own emotions.

John knelt beside her, gripping her shoulders again, his hands shaking. “Mary, look at me.” His voice was firm, desperate. “We’ll find him. But I need you to hold on. I need you to stay with me.”

Her gaze flickered to him, unfocused and distant. “Why wasn’t I there?” she rasped. “Why wasn’t I there for him? I should’ve protected him…” Her voice cracked as she buried her face in her hands.

John’s grip tightened, his own tears falling freely now. “I didn’t know,” he said hoarsely, his words more to himself than to her. “I didn’t know they’d come for him. I didn’t—” His voice broke, the guilt choking him.

Mary rocked back and forth, her fingers clutching the fabric of her gown. “Arlen… Arlen…” she whispered, the name a chant, a desperate plea to the heavens.

Theo’s soft sobs broke the fragile silence. Lena hugged him closer, her own tears falling as she whispered, “We can’t give up. We can’t.”

John reached for Mary’s hand, his touch trembling but firm. “We’ll find him, Mary,” he said, his voice low but steady. “We’ll bring him back.”

But Mary didn’t respond. Her gaze was fixed on the horizon, where Arlen’s laughter should have been. And in the silence that followed, the weight of her grief bore down on them all.