“Why do you live alone?”

Startled, it took me a moment to compose myself.

Turning, I offered him a warm smile.

It was rare for him to approach me, and rarer still for him to speak—so few times that I could count them on one hand. It was a shame: such a beautiful voice to be heard so seldom.

Like his eyes, it was simply breathtaking. The kind of voice that you could be listening to for hours on end, as if it was in tune with nature, and yet, the sorrow behind it was so heart-wrenching, I could taste it behind every word. The fear—the pain of this child…

What could have happened to him?

It was a question eating at me ever since I found him.

It was a rainy day, and I was preparing for the winter gathering all the necessities. That was until a tremble, followed by a deafening explosion, reverberated through the entire forest. It was then that a Deerhorn revealed itself to me, distressed, trying to guide me to a specific location. I followed behind it, and not long after, what seemed like an obsidian crater came into view.

As I approached, however, I realized it was something entirely different. Feathers. Raven-Black wings were tightly woven together into some sort of makeshift nest. And at the center of this void-black cocoon, in stark contrast to the darkness, a pale white child, painted in blood, bruises, and scars, was unconscious.

I acted before I could even process the situation, afraid of being too late to save him.

That night, I didn’t dream. I stayed awake until the break of dawn, doing everything in my power to save him with the meager knowledge I had and the few therapeutic herbs I could find. A stressful day followed, where I was in constant worry, not taking my eyes off him for more than a few minutes, questions gnawing at my mind one after the other: Where did he come from? How did he end up like that?

The second day, I was in for a surprise.

Exhausted from the sleepless night and mental fatigue, I fell asleep without even knowing. When I woke up, I immediately checked on him and was flabbergasted. In less than 48 hours, the half-dead child I had found had completely healed, with no trace of injuries on his body.

How could such a thing even happen?

Even the greatest of healers would need an entire team to perform similar effects.

Something like that was simply unheard of—it was a miracle!

The only strange phenomenon I noticed in the silence of the night was a low white shine exuding from his clean body.

That same night was the first time I ever heard his voice. He was crying, whimpering in his sleep, tears flowing relentlessly. Low snippets escaped his lips, with most of them being indiscernible. To this day, only three names could I make out: Papa, Theodore, and Cain. Especially that last one.

After the second day was over, I knew he would be waking up sooner or later, but my biggest surprise was yet to come.

The third day, when he had just woken up.

It was a single word, yet it made my heart flutter in a way it had never done so before.

Mum.

He hadn’t even realized he had said it out loud…

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

I placed the cup in front of him and slid the plate closer, encouraging him to eat.

Hesitantly, he took the cup with two hands.

I took a moment to collect my thoughts before answering him.

“Isn’t it nice in the forest?” I asked, peeling the orange for him. “Living in nature, away from the city’s troubles. No need to keep up appearances or worry about what others think. No hungry eyes watching your every move.”

I couldn’t help but notice his eyebrows softening, and while he tried to hide it by lowering his head, his lips trembled.

“Here, you don’t have to worry about anything. It’s peaceful, isn’t it? What more could I ask for?”

As usual, he didn’t respond, keeping his gaze cast down at the cacao. It was clear, however; another layer of the impenetrable barrier he had placed between us was laid off.

In the weeks we’ve been together, there have been a few rare moments when that barrier showed its cracks. The first was when he started trusting my cooking. The second came when I mentioned Papa, Cain, and Theodore for the first time. He panicked instantly, shouting in fear about how I knew their names, and the little trust I had earned vanished in an instant.

I knew that him repeating those names meant something important to him—how could I have made such a mistake?

Shellshocked, for the first time, I didn’t know what to do—how to respond. Until then, I could handle the situation through my interpersonal skills, but this… I wasn’t taught the art of being a mother. That was something one would naturally learn, and something… something I could never have for myself.

The only thing I could do was explain to him how I had learned of them and give him some time alone. That day, I was the one afraid of being close to him and waited downstairs for him to fall asleep first before going to bed myself, but to my pleasant surprise, he came to find me.

In a tight hug with the pillow, as if someone would try to take it from him, he said my name for the first time.

“Mira… can you tell me a story?”

It had been a moonless night, and so he was probably afraid of sleeping under no light, but it didn’t matter. That image has been carved into my memory ever since. And similarly, on the darker nights, he would ask me to tell him another story.

Sighing softly under my breath, I finished peeling the orange off and put it back on the plate, pushing it even closer to him.

“Come on, eat up you—”

“Isn’t it lonely?” he cut me mid-sentence.

My heart skipped a beat, and a chill reached the tips of my ears.

“Living alone, isn’t it lonely?” He repeated, finally raising the cup to his mouth.

My lips tightened, and suddenly it became impossibly hard to retain the smile. But I did so regardless.

‘Oh, Apollyon, you can’t even imagine…’

Closing my eyes, I let my cheeks relax.

“Sometimes. But it’s been a lot better ever since you’ve decided to stay with me. Thank you.” I said, meaning every word from the bottom of my heart.

A small silence followed.

Just as I picked up my cup, Apollyon spoke up in a trembling voice.

“I… it’s my fault.” He took out the rainbow-colored egg.

“I found this at the volcano and took it. Then… then the phoenix took everything else. It burned down the village and... Papa, Theodore...

His voice broke into low whimpers, unable to continue.

“They were burning… They were smiling… they were...”

The words died on his lips, replaced by overwhelming tears.

A chill ran down my spine. He wasn’t very clear as to what happened, but it was easy enough for me to figure out the weight of the pain he bore.

This child, Apollyon… His world had burned before his eyes, and that was only the beginning of his nightmare. I didn’t find him among ruins—I found him in the forest.

How much more had he endured? How much had he suffered alone, with no one by his side?

No wonder he didn’t trust me. It wasn’t just because I was a stranger; even if he wanted to, he couldn’t. No one was there when he needed them most.

The ache in my chest was nothing compared to the pain he must have carried. Yet it drove me to pull him into a gentle embrace, to stroke his hair, to wipe away his tears, and to tell him that everything would be alright—that I was here for him now. It didn’t matter if he wanted it or not—if he trusted me or not. It was what he needed, and I would make sure he knew that.

I expected him to scream, to push me away and run to the forest again, but he didn’t. Instead, he pulled closer and tightened, his hands clinging to me, trembling, afraid to let go. I could feel the warmth of his body against mine, his heartbeat thudding against my chest as if it were trying to escape.

“Hush, my youngling, hush. It’s not your fault, you couldn’t have known what would happen. Don’t blame yourself for everything. It’s alright now. You are not alone anymore. I’m never going to leave you, hush, hush.” I mumbled softly, my fingers brushing through his silky strands.

Somehow, my words seemed to pass through to him, and gradually, his cries ceased, but his grip did not weaken.

“It’s okay , it’s okay, everything is going to be okay. You have me now. You can trust me.”

For a while, there was silence. I had stopped caressing his hair, my fingers still tangled in his strands, when Apollyon’s trembling whisper reached my ears.

“L-Lyon. C-Call me, Lyon, not Apollyon.”