Alone

Something I wanted to share...

It was a quiet night as Vyl made his way through the ghost-like streets, the homes dark and gloomy, mixing with the shadows of the night. The only source of light was his torch, the flames flickering in the wind, casting strange patterns along the cobblestones. Then he began to hum a tune, breaking the silence that had covered the town. It was a tune his mother had sang to him and his brother when they were nothing but kids, and a bitter-sweet smile played along his lips. She had been the first woman he had ever loved, one who had cared for him.

You fool, a cold voice whispered in his mind. She was never your mother, she found you and felt bad. She never loved you.
Vyl took a deep breath, and wiped at his face, his hand coming away, wet with tears. Then he stared at the flames of his torch, thinking back to the week before. The day all meaning of life vanished...

...
The trees blocked the town from view as Vyl made his way through them, a smile on his face. Then the edge of the trees came, and he noticed something strange about his hometown. Fires, thousands of them, covered the streets, and he narrowed his eyes, standing at the edge of the trees. Then it dawned of him. They were no fires...it was one huge flame, engulfing the homes of thousands. The smell of burning wood wafted up to where he stood, followed by the screams of those who had been trapped inside their homes...

...
Vyl shivered at the memory and touched the wall of a nearby house. It had been scorched, and half the roof had been burned in the fire. He shook his head and tightened his hold on the handle of his torch, his knuckles turning white. He looked up at the stars and smiled sadly, staring at two stars that sat closer to one another.
"I'll join you soon enough," he said. "Whether it be today or tomorrow, I shall join you, and we will be family once more." He sighed and moved away from the blacked house. I miss you, brother, and mother.

He looked about at the homes, most of them nothing but burned timbers, and shook his head again. Vyl stared at the red mark in his palm, remembering the oath he had made to those who had died. He had sworn to kill the man who had committed the crime. But that would be impossible, for he did not know who had done it. Nor did any of the survivors.

He started to hum the tune again, as he made his way through the cold streets toward home, a dark silhouette against the first light of dawn.

Finally, he blew out his torch, and the world quietened once again.