I emerge from the forest and walk through the yard and up to my childhood home, the remnants barely recognizable as a home. It was once a lovely home filled with love, where I ran and played in the yard. and my mom tended the garden and did chores around the house. It was a home where my mother would read me stories, feed me delicious meals, and where I first learned of magic from watching her.
Now it is but a burned out shell, devoid of life and love. It is a graveyard, a place where a battle raged and people died. It's where my mother died. Speaking of graveyards, I wonder where all the remains of the people my mother killed are. During my slaughter at the bandit compound, I noticed that the remains of my victims were not absorbed by the planet like monsters are. They remained where they fell. So, I should see at least skeletal remains in and around the house. I doubt the bandits came back to collect their dead. In my time with them, a few would die out on their raids, but they never brought the bodies back.
These thoughts weave around my mind as I walk through the house toward where my room was. Not much time later and I soon find myself standing in the remnants of where my room would have been. This is the location I was where my mother was killed in front of me. A vivid flashback to that time fills my vision and I am forced to relive that moment in time, a moment I won't ever soon forget, in this life and I'm sure even in the next.
The scene before me ends and the house returns to its current ruined state. I clutch my chest as the agony of that loss rips my heart apart once again. I just stand there, staring at the spot where my mother was discarded like a piece of trash. No remains are in here either. I wonder if the planet, Cardial claimed her, perhaps it takes longer for us than it does monsters. Wherever she is, I hope she is somewhere now at peace. I kneel down and touch the area where her body once lay, hoping to feel some remnants of her life force clinging to the spot. All I feel is the cold hard ground, any trace of my mother long since gone over the past years.
I walk among the ruins trying to find trinkets or remnants of my past, reminders of the life that was coldly ripped from me. I can't even find the mana stone from the first Horned Rabbit I killed, that I had kept in my dresser drawer. That dresser long since burned to ash, the stone probably reclaimed by Cardial as it was abandoned and forgotten.
I walk back out to where our backyard garden once was, the land now overgrown and feral. Even the Horned Rabbits are nowhere to be seen, having probably long since left this site of death and destruction. I tap my foot against the rusted-out bucket that still remains, the bucket my mother used to water the garden with, and the very same bucket I used to cover up my crime when I killed that Horned Rabbit all those years ago.
Suddenly I hear a thud over by the forest tree line attracts my attention, an annoyed groan accompanying the thud. I use my shape-shift skill to hide my presence as I turn my attention toward the sound and the person that made it as he stumbled out of the forest and fell into the yard.
It was an older man, disheveled and unkempt, getting up from the floor after stumbling on something on the ground. As he gets back up to his feet, he mutters curses directed at whatever he tripped on. The man looks vaguely familiar, but I don't remember anyone who was as derelict as this, save for the monsters that caused this death and destruction and took me from my home.
As he stumbles closer to the ruins of my home, I can see more of his features. His hair is long, way past his shoulders, the locks matted with knots and tangles, twigs and other vegetation stuck in his hair. The disheveled man stumbles into the ruins, sobbing uncontrollably, muttering to himself, his words unintelligible. He looks and smells not unlike your average homeless person you would see back on Earth.
This is a man I once knew well. He was a much more refined man back then. He was a proud man, a mountain of a man, a man I admired and looked up to greatly. Now here he is, a ruined shell of the once proud warrior I once knew.
"Father..." I whisper under my breath.
A tear falls down my cheek as I stare at the man I used to call my father. After my mother was killed and I disappeared, probably presumed dead, he obviously descended into a great despair, having lost his whole world. I can't even begin to imagine the pain and suffering this man has gone through, just like there is no way he could imagine mine. It's obvious he gave up adventuring, as he no longer sports the same physique as he once did. His intimidating armor and impressive axe nowhere to be seen. All that adorns his body are rags, rags that appear as though he has been wearing them this whole time.
My father turns his head, having heard my whisper. He begins muttering nonsense, his voice raising in volume, obviously upset at the spirit that dared mock him while he mourned his loved ones. I don't dare reveal myself now, for his fragile mental state would probably shatter and he would be pushed over the cliff to insanity.
I spend the next couple hours watching my father rummage through the ruins, this probably being his daily routine. He is probably doing what I was just doing, searching for something, anything that could be a remnant of our lives, something he could cling to, to ground his sanity in even the smallest way. Has he been doing this every day since my mother died and I vanished?
I can only imagine the thoughts going through his mind when the day we all agreed to meet up in Creshent for my registration, came and gone, without us ever arriving. I can only imagine how he must have felt making that journey alone to our house to try and find out why we never arrived. I can only imagine how he must have felt, and what he must have been thinking, when he came around the corner into the clearing containing our home, only to find it burned and in ruins. I can understand completely the pain he must have felt when he found the body of his wife, and me nowhere to be found. The pain must have been unimaginable.
My father finally finishes his searching and rambling, and he stumbles out of the ruins and heads off toward the southwest. I follow him while still concealing myself, keeping my distance as to not take a chance to give away my presence. He walks for quite a while through the forest, not wandering, but in a determined direction, a path he has traveled many, many times over the past several years. His trail just barely visible through the undergrowth from years of trudging through this same area.
We finally come to a break in the forest, a clearing that's not that large, but contains a small hill overlooking the massive canyon that eventually winds its way to and borders Creshent's southern edge. My father ascends the hill and approaches the two large stones placed on top of the hill. I watch from the forest as my father kneels in front of the graves belonging to my mother and myself. The sobs from the ruined man audible even from as far back where I'm standing.
My father curls up between the stones, his sobbing continues without a sign of slowing down. This poor man does this every single day. I decide it's time to approach him, but I don't want him to know it's me just yet.
I shift my form and release my stealth. I exit the forest and step into the clearing to make my way toward the hill.
My father is curled up sobbing on the floor between the two headstones. Suddenly he sees a bright light forming at the edge of the forest, but he is unable to see what it is through the tears that fill his eyes, blurring his vision. He wipes his face and sits up, focusing on the light that snapped him out of his eternal sorrow.
There, walking toward him is a figure clad in brilliant white, an ethereal glow emanating from the being. As it walks closer, he can make out the features of the being that is approaching him in his most sacred place. The being appears to be a fox, walking on two legs, it's fur as white as the driven snow, with accents of swirling gold on its lower legs and feet, hands and arms, it's face, and it's tails. Nine tails in total, fanning out in all directions. Its features are distinctly female.
"Wh... who are you?!" The ruined man asks me as I approach his family's graves.
"I was just walking by, and I happened across a curious scene." I reply as I walk up to my father.
"Wh... what are you?" He asks me, not blinking as though I may vanish if he does.
"Just a traveler..." I reply in a nonspecific manner.
I rub my hands over the smooth granite stones that appear to have been meticulously carved and polished by hand, the names of my mother and then myself adorning them. Under the names on the stones are epitaphs written with love and devotion.
"Your loved ones I assume?" I ask my father.
"Y... yes, but what business is it of yours! If you have no business here, please leave me and my family alone!" His voice raising in volume as he tries to intimidate me to leave.
I move in front of my mother's tombstone, I kneel in front of it and I begin tracing the letters of her name carved in the stone.
"I can't do that. This place is important to me too." I reply, a tear streaming down the white fur on my foxlike face.
"How can this place possibly be important to a beast like you." My father says, a hint of anger rising in his voice.
I let that comment slide as to him I do look like a beast. I place my hand back on the engraving of my mother's name. I look at my father and respond.
"It's important because you are here... and so is my mother."
My father stares at me with a look of confusion. I know he sees the tears streaming down my face, but he can't put it together, as it makes no sense that this creature is crying in front of his wife's grave, saying it's her mother.
I trace my mother's name again as I let my illusion dissipate, the Fox head morphing to my natural face, the fox's golden head fur unfurling into long flowing jet-black hair. I look over at my father who had backed up several feet as he witnessed this spectacle.
"Hello, father. It's been a long time. I've missed you terribly." I state as my eyes erupt into a shower of tears.
I hang my head and start sobbing uncontrollably, years worth of pain and sorrow built up being released.
"C...Chr...Christine?!" My father barely able to croak out my name.
"It's me father. I'm really here." I say with a smile.
I reach out a white and gold furred hand, my Kitsune illusion still active everywhere except my head. I reach for my father, beckoning him to take my hand.
"H... How is this p... possible?!!"
I undo the illusion on my arm, my gold and white fur disappearing and my pale skin appearing, hoping my father will reach for my actual hand.
My father slowly crawls back toward me and reaches out his hand, gently touching my hand as though if he touched me any harder, I would dissipate as if I was made of smoke. I entwine my fingers with his, allowing him to feel that I'm actually real and actually here. My father brings my hand up to his face and presses it to his cheek, to feel the warmth of my hand against his skin. He breaks down harder than he was sobbing before, his own years of pain and torment letting loose.
"Oh Christine... my precious Christine!" My father's sobs increase, his tears coating my hand.
"I'm really here dad. I'm really alive and well."
My father pulls my arm and I fall toward him into his arms. He embraces me tightly, burying his face into my white furred shoulder. His embrace reminding me of the strong man he was, an embrace that shows me he is afraid that I won't actually be there when he opens his eyes. I let go of my Kitsune form completely, letting him feel the real me against him.
We hold our embrace, crying out all our emotions, our sorrow and our joy, for what seems like an eternity. The afternoon sun lowering in the sky giving way to evening.
Suddenly my father pulls away from our embrace, places his hands on my shoulders, and looks straight into my eyes, with a glimmer of hope in his eyes.
"Will you tell me what happened Christine? Where you have been all this time?" He asks, his voice trembles giving away that he is scared to hear this tale.