I never knew what she saw.
But her smile vanished.
She whipped her face toward us and shouted, "Run away."
Sophia kept running towards her.
"Run away," Mom screamed again, louder this time, her voice breaking with terror.
The closer Sophia got to her, the more desperate her shouts became.
"Run away. Run away. Run away."
And then Mom shouted again, louder than a lion's roar, "Take Sophia and run away, Arthur."Her voice tore straight through the panic fogging my mind. I snapped out of whatever I was thinking or feeling and grabbed Sophia's hand. I ran. I ran without looking back, pulling her with me through blood and shattered bodies, over torn limbs and spilled guts and the warm slickness of things I didn't want to recognize. We just kept running.
By the time we reached the ninth or tenth car and finally stumbled out onto the ground, Sophia stopped. She turned around with a startled expression, and even though I didn't want to, I turned as well.
A fire had ignited in the car behind Mom. The flames were small, flickering, but the smoke rising from them made the air feel wrong.
Mom saw it.
She screamed something at us, her voice hoarse and cracking. We were too far to hear, but her lips were clear enough for me to understand.
"Protect Sophia."
I don't know why I reacted the way I did, but the moment I understood her words, I pulled Sophia into my chest and covered her eyes with my hand.A heartbeat later, the fire reached something volatile.
A massive explosion ripped through the car behind Mom.
Six entire cars disintegrated in seconds. Metal, fire, glass, and bodies exploded outward like a monstrous breath. Mom vanished in an instant. She didn't burn. She didn't fall. She didn't even scream again. She was simply gone, shattered into nothing before my eyes.
The shockwave reached us as a wall of heat and force. Even though it only brushed us, it was strong enough to throw both of us high into the air. We slammed into a tree and then onto the dirt. My arms burned from the blast, red and blistered. Sophia flew a little farther and landed hard, her small body crumpling into the grass. Blood poured from her shoulder, slowly turning her white gown into a deep, awful red.
I tried to stand, but the pain was too much and the fear was worse. My legs trembled, refusing to obey. So I lay there, barely able to breathe, staring at Sophia as my vision blurred.
It was then that I noticed movement beyond the burning cars.
Amid the flames and rising smoke, a silhouette stood deep in the forest. A shape like a man, tall and eerily still, holding a bow in one hand. The firelight flickered along its outline, but its details were swallowed by shadow.
The figure was staring at a dying man near my feet. The man's body below the torso was missing, ripped away. He was crying, screaming, begging for help that would never come.
The silhouette raised its bow.
There was no arrow.
Yet it drew the empty string as though preparing to fire.And when it released that empty string, the dying man went silent instantly, like someone had snuffed out his soul.
I don't remember anything after that.
I must have fainted as soon as the man collapsed.
When I next opened my eyes, I was in the Vebula Kingdom's hospital. The king's guards had found us the following day.
I told them what I saw. I told the investigators too. But no one believed me. They said it was an illusion, a dream I had while unconscious, something imagined by a traumatized child. I argued at first, but eventually I gave up. It was easier to go along with their version than keep fighting it.
At the hospital, victims cried and wailed. They cursed the train driver. They screamed for justice, or for vengeance, or simply because the world was suddenly too cruel to bear.
I did none of that.
I didn't cry for Mom.I didn't curse anyone.I didn't grieve like the others were grieving.
Because Sophia was alive.
She looked so small lying beside me on the hospital bed, staring at the door as if Mom and Dad would walk in at any moment with warm smiles. When the doctor checked on us, she asked him in the softest voice, "When will Mom and Dad return?"
Maybe he saw what I felt.Maybe he understood we needed something to hold on to.
He smiled gently, patted our heads and said, "Your parents were hurt badly, so we performed a special surgery. We placed half of both your parents inside your brother's heart and the other half inside yours. So they are always with you."
It was such an absurd idea, but somehow it worked. From that day on, we both carried Mom and Dad in our hearts, exactly the way he said.
After we were discharged, we were sent to the an orphanage. And there, we made our own tiny world. Just the two of us. Me, Sophia, and the warm memory of our parents. I spoon-fed her every meal, and she clung to me everywhere we went. Even the maids stepped aside, letting us exist in our little universe.
Months passed.
Then the orphanage members announced that older children would be transferred to another branch because the place was overcrowding. I was one of them.
I climbed into the jeep thinking it was some field trip. I had no idea they were taking me somewhere I would never see Sophia again.
But halfway through the journey, I overheard the adults talking. The truth hit me like cold water; I wouldn't be allowed to stay with her anymore.
My chest tightened. My heartbeat grew painful. I begged them to take me back.
They ignored me.
So I bit one of the adults on the arm and punched the driver straight in the face.
The strength behind my punch was nothing to him, but the suddenness made him jerk the steering wheel. The jeep shot off the road and slammed into a tree with a violent jolt. While everyone inside groaned from the impact, I crawled out through the broken door and ran. I ran blindly into the woods, branches clawing at my arms, roots tripping my legs, thorns slicing my skin. In that thick forest, day and night blurred together. I did not know where I was going. I only knew I had to get back to Sophia.
By the time I stumbled out of the trees, the sky was orange. It was already the evening of the next day.
I kept running along the road, bruised and bleeding, asking strangers for directions, barely able to form proper words. Somehow, through luck or desperation or both, I reached the orphanage.
When I pushed through the door, every adult inside froze. I must have looked terrifying, covered in mud and dried blood, shaking from exhaustion. They rushed toward me, trying to treat my wounds, but I could barely breathe. I wanted to ask about Sophia, but the moment I opened my mouth, nothing came out except a thin gasp.
Maybe they understood anyway.
They stopped tending to my injuries and took me to the back door. The manager pointed to long scratch marks carved deeply into the wood, streaked with fresh blood.
"Sophia made these," he said softly. "All night and all day, without rest, until she collapsed an hour ago."
My heart clenched so hard it hurt to inhale.
Seeing the panic on my face, he guided me to our room. Sophia was lying on our bed, wearing my clothes, curled up like a kitten. Her face was peaceful, but her tiny fingers were wrapped in bandages, each digit covered in small cuts from clawing at the door for so many hours.
She must have cried until her voice broke. Just looking at her, I could feel the pain she endured.
I lay beside her, unable to stay awake. When I opened my eyes the next morning, her arms were wrapped tightly around me. She looked happy, even glowing a little, while she nuzzled against my chest. I pulled her close and we slept again until evening.
The manager pulled some strings, or just bribed, and somehow managed to keep both of us there for one more month. But the day came again. The orphanage was still overflowing. They needed to move children once more. This time, they moved both of us.
Packing our belongings, getting into the jeep, traveling to another city, and stepping into the new orphanage all felt like part of the same long breath. We were nervous, but we were also excited. A new place meant a new beginning.