I could still recall the days of my youth, when life was simple and filled with the warmth of family bonds.
In my mind's eye, I could see our home—a simple yet cozy abode filled with love and laughter, a sanctuary where we shared our joys and sorrows alike.
A tender smile graced my lips as I remembered my mother—the embodiment of kindness and grace who had always been there to guide and support me.
"Aisel, did you wash your hands properly?" Her voice cut through the haze of memories, bringing me back to the present moment with a pang of longing.
Her words were a gentle reminder of her unwavering love and care, a testament to the simple joys of family life.
"Yes, mom," I said nonchalantly, but her keen eyes didn't miss the dirt still clinging to my skin.
"Oh really, then why is the back of your hands still looking dirty?" Her gentle reprimand brought me back to reality, the warmth of her love mingling with the sting of guilt.
I glanced down at the back of my hands, noticing the telltale smudges of dirt and mud that marred their surface—a stark contrast against the pristine cleanliness of the dining table.
"Oh, I forgot to wash them," I admitted sheepishly, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over me as I realized my oversight.
I had been so eager to join my family for dinner that I had neglected to tend to the simple task of washing my hands.
My mother's expression softened, her disappointment tempered by understanding and patience.
"Go quickly and wash them properly before eating the food," she instructed, her voice gentle yet firm.
She knew the importance of instilling good habits in her children, teaching us to respect both ourselves and the food we consumed.
With a nod of my head, I hurried to obey, my footsteps echoing against the cool tile floor as I made my way to the washbasin.
I scrubbed my hands vigorously, the water washing away the dirt and grime until my skin gleamed with newfound cleanliness.
Returning to the dining table, I felt a sense of relief wash over me as I took my seat once more.
"Learn something from Mike. He had already washed his hands properly," my mother urged, her voice soft yet tinged with a hint of expectation.
"Okay, dear. Let him be. He should eat his dinner now," my father interjected, his tone calm and reassuring as he sought to diffuse the tension that lingered in the air.
A sense of warmth enveloped me as I glanced towards my father, a stalwart figure of strength and nobility who had always been there for us, through every challenge and triumph.
"Okay, dear," my mother echoed, her gaze softening as she exchanged a knowing glance with my father.
With graceful movements, she turned her attention to serving the food, her actions infused with a quiet sense of purpose and devotion.
The aroma of the freshly prepared meal filled the air, drawing us together as a family around the table.
With bowed heads and closed eyes, we offered prayers of gratitude to the gods, seeking blessings and guidance for the journey ahead.
Each bite of food brought a sense of contentment, binding us together in a shared moment of warmth and belonging.
But amidst the simple joy of family dinner, questions lingered in my mind, begging to be answered.
"Dad, why do you try to help everyone?" My voice trembled with curiosity as I looked up at my father, a glimmer of admiration shining in my eyes.
He was the leader of a humble guild, a player who upheld his duties with honor and compassion.
He often shared tales of his adventures, the people he saved, and the challenges he faced.
"Do you know about the duties of players?" My father's gentle inquiry drew me in, his voice carrying the weight of wisdom and experience.
"No. What are they?" My curiosity sparked, eager to learn from his wealth of knowledge.
"Listen, Aisel," my father began, his tone tinged with solemnity. "As a player, we gain powers and skills. And it is our responsibility to protect the weak ones. Did you get it?"
I nodded eagerly, my heart swelling with a newfound sense of purpose and determination.
"Yes, dad," I affirmed, my voice filled with conviction. "I will be a great player like you."
'Knock knock'
The warmth of our family dinner was abruptly shattered by an unexpected interruption—a sharp knock echoing through the humble abode like an ominous omen.
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As my mother swung the door open, she was met with an unsettling sight—a man standing on our doorstep, his hands adorned with menacing gauntlets that gleamed in the dim light of the evening.
His cruel smile sent shivers down my spine, his cold gaze piercing through me with an intensity that sent a chill coursing through my veins.
And as he spoke, his voice dripped with a sinister edge, sending a shiver down my spine.
"Is this Mr. Phil's house?" the man inquired, his words hanging in the air like a dark cloud, casting a shadow over the warmth and tranquility of our home.
"Yes, but who are you?" My mother's voice wavered with nervousness as she confronted the stranger standing before her, a sense of unease knotting in the pit of her stomach.
The man, who introduced himself as Mason, offered no further explanation, his abrupt departure leaving a lingering sense of foreboding in the air.
As my mother opened her mouth to speak, her words poised on the tip of her tongue, her world was plunged into chaos.
A sudden surge of terror gripped her heart as Mason's strong grip closed around her neck, cutting off her words with a strangled gasp.
In that moment of sheer horror, time seemed to slow to a crawl as I watched, frozen in place, unable to comprehend the nightmare unfolding before my eyes.
Tears welled in my eyes as I watched my mother being thrown aside with brutal force, her limp form cradled in my father's arms as he rushed to her side, his anguished cries echoing through the room.
"I'm sorry, dear, but I think my time has come," my mother's voice, strained and feeble, carried a weight of resignation that crushed my heart with each word uttered.
The reality of her impending departure loomed over us like a dark cloud, casting a pall of sorrow over our shattered family.
"Mom! Please don't go. You will be alright," Mike's tearful plea filled the room, his voice cracking with emotion as he clung desperately to the hope of his mother's recovery.
But his words fell on deaf ears, swallowed by the deafening silence that enveloped us all.
"Don't cry, Mike. Remember, you are a strong boy," my mother's gentle reassurance was a ray of light in the darkness, a reminder of her unwavering love and faith in us, even in the face of adversity.
"Mom!" My own voice cracked with anguish as tears streamed down my face, my heart heavy with the weight of sorrow and loss.
I longed to reach out to her, to hold her close and tell her how much she meant to me, but the words caught in my throat, choked by the overwhelming tide of emotions that threatened to drown me.
"Aisel, take care of yourself and your brother," my mother's calm voice cut through the chaos, a steadfast beacon of bravery and love in the face of despair.
Her words were a solemn vow, a final testament to her unwavering devotion to her family.
"Dear! Please open your eyes," my father's desperate plea echoed through the room, but there was no response, no flicker of life in my beloved mother's still form.
"I think I have given you all enough time. So, are you all ready to die?" The man's taunting words sliced through the air like a blade, his cruel tone a stark reminder of the cruel fate that awaited us.
With each step he took, he seemed to revel in their suffering, his sinister presence casting a shadow over their shattered lives.
"Who are you? And why are you doing this?" My father's voice trembled with a mix of confusion and fear as he rose from his chair, his eyes fixed on the intruder standing before us.
"Well, don't take it personally. I'm just following orders." The intruder's tone was chillingly nonchalant, devoid of any empathy or remorse, sending shivers down my spine.
"Aisel, take Mike and run out the back door," my father's command sliced through the tense air, urgency lacing every syllable.
His eyes met mine, conveying a silent plea for compliance despite the danger.
"But..." My protest faltered as I glanced back at my father, the gravity of the situation sinking in.
I didn't want to abandon him, but the fear gnawing at my gut warned me of the peril we faced.
"Go!" His voice thundered, echoing through the room with a mixture of desperation and determination.
With a heavy heart, I nodded, knowing that staying would only jeopardize us further.
As I grabbed my brother's hand, I stole one last glance at my father, his figure a blur of courage and defiance as he charged towards the menacing figure standing before him.
"Mark, let's go," I whispered urgently, my heart pounding in my chest as I clutched my brother's hand tightly, pulling him away from the chaos unfolding behind us.
With each step, fear fueled our escape, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on my shoulders like a suffocating blanket.
"Brother, will Dad be alright?" Mike's voice quivered with a mixture of fear and hope, his eyes wide with uncertainty as he glanced back over his shoulder.
"Yes, don't worry. Dad is strong," I assured him, my voice strained with the weight of the lie I was telling both him and myself.
Deep down, I knew the truth, but I couldn't bear to shatter his fragile hope, not now, not in the midst of our desperate flight.
Lost in our own thoughts, we ran blindly, our path uncertain, driven only by the primal instinct to survive.
But fate had other plans for us, as we collided with a figure standing in our way, sending us tumbling to the ground in a tangle of limbs and fear.
"Are you two alright?" The stranger's voice cut through the chaos like a beacon of calm in the storm, his presence radiating a soothing aura that momentarily eased the frantic beating of my heart.
"Can you please help us? Our parents are in danger," I pleaded, the words tumbling out in a desperate rush, my voice betraying the raw fear and uncertainty that gripped my soul.
In that moment, all I could do was cling to the fragile hope that this stranger might be our salvation in the face of impending danger.
"Guide me," the man's voice sliced through the heavy silence, his words laced with a determined resolve that belied the tragedy unfolding before us.
"Yes, please follow me," I managed to choke out, my voice barely above a whisper as I led the stranger through the familiar streets back to our home, dread gnawing at my insides with each step.
But as we approached, a sickening sense of foreboding gripped me, tightening its icy grip around my heart.
We stepped over the threshold, only to be greeted by a scene straight from the depths of my worst nightmares.
Two lifeless figures lay motionless on the floor, their bodies cloaked in a crimson shroud of blood that stained the once pristine floors of our home.
"Mom! Dad!" Mike's anguished cry pierced the eerie stillness, his voice trembling with disbelief and despair as he rushed to their side, his hands reaching out in a desperate attempt to rouse them from their eternal slumber.
"Dad! Wake up! Mom! Mom!" I choked on a sob, my voice breaking as I fell to my knees beside him, my fingers trembling as I brushed against their cold, lifeless faces, praying for a miracle that would never come.
Me and my brother, we both cried, our tears mingling with the blood-soaked floor as we clung to each other in our shared grief, the once vibrant echoes of laughter and love silenced by the cruel hand of fate.
"What is your name?" The stranger's voice cut through the suffocating silence, his presence a balm to our shattered souls as he stood beside us, his eyes filled with a sorrow that mirrored our own.
"My name is Aisel," I whispered hoarsely, my voice barely audible above the sound of our shared anguish, my arms wrapped protectively around my brother who had succumbed to exhaustion, his tears spent and his sobs silenced by the weight of our loss.
"I'm sorry for what happened," the stranger offered, his words heavy with genuine remorse and empathy as he knelt beside us, his hand resting gently on my shoulder in a gesture of silent solidarity.
"If only I was stronger.." I murmured, the weight of guilt bearing down on me like a crushing weight, the echoes of my own powerlessness haunting me like a specter in the night.
"There's no need to blame yourself," the stranger's voice was a gentle reassurance, his words a beacon of hope in the darkness of our despair.
But no matter how much he tried to ease our pain, the burden of guilt remained, a constant reminder of the lives we couldn't save and the love we couldn't protect.
"Anyways, do you two have any place to go?" Trevor's voice, soft and caring, pierced through the haze of despair that clouded our minds, his concern a beacon of hope in the darkness of our uncertain future.
"No," I admitted, the weight of homelessness settling heavily on my shoulders, a constant reminder of the shattered remnants of the life we once knew.
"If you're okay with this, you two can come with me," Trevor offered, his words a lifeline in our time of need, his outstretched hand a symbol of the kindness and compassion we so desperately craved.
"Who are you?" I couldn't help but ask, curiosity mingling with gratitude as I searched his face for answers.
"I am Trevor, an executive of the Phoenix guild," he introduced himself, the name sending a ripple of recognition through my memories, a rising guild my father used to praise about.
"Will you help me in becoming a strong player?" I implored, my voice tinged with determination as I clung to the hope of a new beginning, a chance to honor my father's legacy and forge my own path in the world of warriors and heroes.
"Yes, I will. So what do you say, would you like to come with me?" Trevor's offer hung in the air, a promise of redemption and belonging that beckoned to me like a siren's song.
"Okay," I accepted without hesitation, my resolve firm as I nodded in agreement, ready to leave behind the shattered remnants of my past and embrace the uncertain future that lay ahead.
But even as I took my first steps into this new chapter of my life, my thoughts lingered on the shadows of the past, the memory of that fateful day etched into my soul like a scar that refused to fade.
I immersed myself in training, channeling my grief and anger into every strike, every spell, every moment of relentless pursuit of strength.
With each battle, each victory, I felt myself growing stronger, more capable, more determined to face the demon that haunted my nightmares.
And now, as I stand face to face with the man who tore my world apart, I can feel the flames of vengeance burning within me, fierce and unyielding.
This time, I will not falter.
This time, I will not flee.
No matter the cost, even if I die.
With every fiber of my being, I am prepared to face him.