On a rainy morning, Smith woke up with a yawn, rubbing his eyes to clear the sleepiness. He reached for his gold-rimmed glasses to see clearly. Beside him, Emrys sat quietly, his legs drawn close to his chest, but his expression was unreadable.

"Good morning, Emrys," Smith greeted him softly, noticing the lack of sadness or anger in the boy's demeanor.

"Morning," Emrys replied, his voice calm yet distant.

“Are you feeling better today?”

“...” Emrys paused, he didn’t seem to talk about the events that unfolded last night.

“It seems like it’s raining right now… I suppose we can stay here for a while and go back to my place in the city after I make breakfast.”. Smith got up to make breakfast.

“Wait.”. Emrys said, holding Smith’s hand.

“I want you to tell me something.”

“What is it you want to know boy?”

With a soft sigh, Emrys started to speak. “I want to know the story, the real story of who killed my parents.”

As the rain intensified outside, the trees swayed in the gusty wind, their leaves rustling with a mournful sound. Thunder rumbled ominously, punctuating the air with its deep resonance. Emrys, sitting beside Smith, broke the heavy silence with a question, his voice almost lost amidst the cacophony of nature's symphony.

Smith hesitated, his gaze shifting to the window where raindrops raced down the glass in erratic patterns. The gloomy ambiance of the cabin seemed to mirror the heaviness in his heart. He knew he couldn't evade Emrys' curiosity any longer, no matter how difficult the story might be.

Taking a deep breath, Smith turned to Emrys, his expression somber yet determined. The rain continued to drum against the roof, a steady beat that underscored the gravity of the moment.

“Alright, I’ll tell you.” Smith sat down on the floor again next to Emrys to begin speaking.

As Smith concluded recounting the harrowing events involving the soldiers, Ervin, and Emrys' parents, a heavy silence settled in the room, punctuated only by the rhythmic patter of rain outside. Emrys listened intently, his expression unreadable, a mask of inscrutable emotions.

When Smith finished, expecting a reaction of grief or shock, Emrys surprised him with a response that was unexpected. Instead of sadness, there was a glint of determination in his eyes, a resolve that seemed to defy the weight of the tragedy that had befallen his family.

"Thank you for telling me, Mr. Smith," Emrys spoke softly, his voice carrying a newfound sense of purpose. "I understand now... I know what I have to do."

Smith looked at Emrys, a mix of concern and curiosity etched on his face. He couldn't fathom what thoughts were brewing in the young boy's mind, but he sensed a shift, a transformation that hinted at resilience beyond his years.

The rain continued its relentless descent, a backdrop to the quiet determination that filled the room. Emrys' response, though unexpected, carried with it a sense of hope amid despair, a flicker of light in the darkness that surrounded them.

“I will kill them.”

“What?” Smith questioned.

“No. I’ll destroy their whole nation.”. Emrys told Smith.

“What are you talking about, young boy?”. Smith could hear Emrys, however the words that were coming out of his mouth were something he didn’t expect to hear. Especially from an eight-year-old.

"Every last one of them will meet their end by my hands," Emrys declared, his voice carrying a chilling certainty. His hands clenched into fists, a physical manifestation of the determination coursing through him. His eyes, usually bright and full of innocence, now held an unorthodox aura—an ominous presence that spoke of newfound power and resolve.

Smith couldn't help but feel a pang of concern at Emrys' words. The transformation in the young boy was palpable, a shift from grief to a steely determination that seemed to transcend his age. It was as if a dormant force within him had awakened, fueled by the tragedy that had befallen his family.

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The rain outside continued its relentless drumming against the window, mirroring the intensity of Emrys' resolve. In that moment, amidst the stormy backdrop, a sense of foreboding hung in the air, a premonition of the tumultuous path that lay ahead for Emrys and those who dared to cross his newfound resolve.

"I understand your pain and anger, Emrys, but you mustn't speak of such things regarding Titlantia," Smith gently admonished, his eyes filled with concern as he tried to reason with the young boy. He reached out, placing a comforting hand on Emrys' shoulder, a gesture meant to offer solace and guidance in the midst of turmoil.

However, as Smith looked into Emrys' eyes, he saw something unsettling. Emrys' gaze seemed distant, as if his eyes were staring into a void beyond sight. The smile on his face, once innocent and full of laughter, had transformed into something ugly—an expression twisted by the darkness of vengeance and rage.

Smith felt a chill run down his spine as he realized that this wasn't just a declaration of revenge; it was a glimpse into the depths of Emrys' turmoil. The madness lurking behind those eyes sent a wave of fear through Smith's heart, a fear of the unknown and the person Emrys was on the brink of becoming.

"Stop! Emrys, you have to snap out of this!" Smith's voice rose with urgency, his hands shaking Emrys' shoulders in an attempt to break through the haze of anger and despair clouding the young boy's mind.

But Emrys seemed lost in a trance, his eyes glazed over as he continued to chant the chilling words, "Kill... Kill..."

Smith's heart raced with panic as he struggled to reach Emrys, to pull him back from the precipice of darkness he was teetering on. The weight of the situation pressed down on him, a heavy burden of responsibility and fear for Emrys' well-being.

"Emrys, please! You don't want this. This isn't who you are," Smith pleaded, his voice cracking with emotion. He desperately tried to reach the real Emrys buried beneath the layers of trauma and pain, hoping against hope that he could break through the darkness threatening to consume them both.

Emrys let out a chilling chuckle, the echoes of his previous chant of "Kill" fading into the tense air. His laughter had a sinister edge to it, a glimpse into the darkness that lurked beneath the surface. As he stopped chanting, a cold and calculating look settled in his eyes, sending a shiver down Smith's spine.

Despite the unsettling aura surrounding him, Emrys stood up with an unsettling calmness, contrasting sharply with the turmoil raging within him. His short stature seemed insignificant compared to the weight of his words and the intensity of his gaze as he locked eyes with Smith.

"Shall we have breakfast?" Emrys' words dripped with a cunning tone, sending a chill through the room. It was as though he had transformed in an instant, his demeanor shifting from despair to something far more ominous.

Smith couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of his stomach. Emrys' sudden change in demeanor and the calculated look in his eyes hinted at a darkness that Smith feared he couldn't comprehend. As they headed towards the breakfast table, the atmosphere hung heavy with unspoken tension, each step fraught with uncertainty.

They sat at the table, Smith got some bread and butter for them to eat until the rain subsided.

Emrys picked up the butterknife, looking at his reflection on it. In his mind, the reflection turned to crimson blood and a brutal war scene between stories he heard from Smith.

Kill… Kill… Kill…

Even though Emrys had ceased chanting the word "kill" aloud, the dark thoughts continued to echo in his mind like a sinister mantra. His gaze lingered on the sharp blade of the knife as Mr. Smith calmly spread butter on a slice of bread. There was an unsettling intensity in Emrys' eyes, a silent contemplation of violence that sent shivers down Smith's spine.

Smith finally became aware of Emrys' fixation on the knife, a sudden unease settling in his chest. "Emrys! What are you doing?" His voice held a mixture of concern and alarm, his eyes locked onto the young boy's troubled expression.

Emrys remained silent for a moment, the weight of his thoughts hanging heavily in the air. Slowly, he tore his gaze away from the knife, meeting Smith's gaze with a cold, calculating stare. "Nothing, Mr. Smith," he replied casually, his tone devoid of its usual innocence. "Just thinking about breakfast."

The casualness in Emrys' response only added to the growing unease that gnawed at Smith's mind. It was as if a veil had been lifted, revealing a glimpse of darkness that lurked beneath the surface of the young boy's demeanor. Smith couldn't shake off the feeling that something had shifted, something unsettling and ominous brewing within Emrys.

As they sat down to eat, the atmosphere felt heavy with unspoken tension. Emrys' words hung in the air like an unspoken threat, a reminder of the darkness that threatened to consume him. And in that moment, Smith couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding, a fear of what Emrys might become if left unchecked.

…

As they finished up with breakfast, the rain would finally go away. Smith told Emrys to go pack his things as now he will be under his care in his home since his parents died.

Emrys came with only a small bag full of clothes and one book. He smiled at Smith, however he didn’t like the creepy smile he had on his face.

“I know this will be a new adventure for you since you haven’t been to the city at all, however, I want you to know that I’m always by your side, Emrys.”

“I’m looking forward to it!”

As they left the cabin, they left the sorrowful memories with them in there.

However… Emrys didn’t completely forget about the events that unfolded in the cabin… He still remembers…

He still remembers.