Lioran flew toward the small red light that had captured his attention. The closer he got, the brighter and clearer it became—yet it didn't flicker like a flame. Instead, it pulsed gently, like the slow heartbeat of something alive within the darkness.
He landed beside one of the trees. His gaze searched the ground, and there—among the dark soil—lay a necklace.
At its center shone a large red ruby.
It was so clear that he could see mana slowly moving inside it, like a wave trapped within stone.
Lioran hesitantly reached out and picked it up.
"This is…"
The moment his fingers touched the ruby, a sudden memory stirred in his mind.
His mother's face appeared—wearing that same warm smile she always had.
She was holding the necklace, gently swinging it in front of Lioran's face.
"Do you know, Lioran? This ruby necklace is a gift from your father to you. When you grow up and become a strong man, you'll be able to have it. Look, isn't it beautiful?"
Lioran's breath caught for a moment.
His cold gaze remained fixed on the red stone, but his mind was somewhere else—somewhere where a home still existed, where his mother was still there.
At that moment, a voice came from behind him.
"What are you doing? Did you find something?"
Before Lioran could answer, Anahita reached him. Her eyes fell on the necklace in his hand, and suddenly they widened in surprise.
"That… isn't that your mom's necklace?"
Lioran slowly nodded.
His voice was cold, but beneath that icy calm, something trembled.
"Yeah."
For a few seconds he stared at the ruby, then said with a hesitation he could barely hide,
"But… what is it doing here? Does that mean my mother escaped? Does that mean she's okay? Where are you, Mom…?"
The necklace still glowed in Lioran's hand—
like a faint spark of hope in the middle of ruins where nothing else remained.
But that hope didn't last long.
"Blood… Lioran, there's blood over there—"
Anahita's voice suddenly broke the heavy silence around them.
"Blood?"
Lioran turned toward her in surprise.
Anahita pointed ahead.
"Yeah… on that tree."
Lioran followed the direction of her finger.
And then he saw it.
On the trunk of a tree was the mark of a human hand smeared in blood—
as if someone, with their last strength, had slammed their palm against the bark and dragged it downward.
Lioran's heart sank.
He immediately ran toward the tree, but a few steps before reaching it, he suddenly slowed down.
His eyes had fallen to the ground.
Blood.
Fresh blood spread across the soil, not yet completely dried.
He stopped beside the tree and slowly brushed his hand over the bloody mark.
His skin tightened.
"This blood hasn't completely dried yet…"
His voice was low and cold.
"It hasn't been more than a few hours."
His gaze moved forward.
On the ground, the trail of blood continued.
Lioran followed it.
Every few steps, another bloody handprint appeared on the trunk of a tree—
not once, not twice…
As if someone wounded, too weak to stand, had been grabbing the trees with blood-soaked hands just to keep from collapsing.
Lioran moved forward without stopping, while Anahita floated silently behind him.
The trail of blood streaked across the ground—so much of it that even Anahita couldn't help murmuring quietly,
"Whoever this was… they were badly wounded. With this much blood… a normal person wouldn't last long."
Lioran didn't answer.
He clenched his mother's necklace in his fist—so tightly that the edge of the ruby pressed into his palm.
His lips moved silently, as if whispering a prayer.
"Please don't let it be you… please be safe… please be safe…"
A few steps later—
he suddenly stopped.
His body went rigid.
In front of him, beside the trunk of a burned tree, the body of a woman had been pinned to it.
An arrow had pierced through her abdomen—passing straight through her body, embedding itself into the tree trunk, and even protruding from the other side of the wood—
as if her body had been nothing more than an obstacle in the arrow's path.
The second arrow had struck her directly in the forehead.
It had split through her skull, burst out from the back of her head, and buried itself into the tree again.
Two arrows held the woman's body firmly nailed to the trunk.
Her long black hair had fallen over her face, hiding her features.
But the blood…
the blood was still dripping.
Crimson drops fell slowly from her forehead and stomach onto the ground—warm, fresh…
as if death had not yet fully finished its work.
Seeing Lioran standing motionless in the middle of the path, Anahita called out in confusion,
"What are you doing? Why did you stop?"
No answer came.
Since she had been floating behind him, she couldn't see what Lioran was seeing. She drifted a little closer, frowning as she muttered,
"Why are you just standing ther—?"
And then—
her eyes fell on the woman nailed to the tree.
Her sentence died halfway.
Her eyes widened in horror, and she blurted out,
"That… that's the restaur—"
"Shut up."
Lioran's voice cut through the air like a cold blade.
"Shut up… shut up…
That's… that's not her… just shut up!"
Anger trembled in his voice—
raw, savage anger—something Anahita had never heard from Lioran before.
Anahita fell silent.
She looked at him with worry and sadness.
Lioran didn't move.
His eyes—cold and lifeless—were fixed directly on the woman's body.
But behind that coldness, a deep fear was hiding—
a fear that was slowly breaking him apart.
Because the woman nailed to the tree…
was wearing a restaurant worker's uniform.
The same simple clothes Lioran's mother wore every day in her small restaurant, working beside Mari.
After a few minutes of silence, Anahita asked with a face full of concern,
"…Aren't you going to go closer?
Don't you want to see who that woman is?"
"I want to…"
Lioran answered, but his voice lacked certainty. Then he lowered his gaze to his own feet and continued,
"But… but my legs… they're shaking. It's like they're stuck to the ground. They won't move…"
Anahita looked down at Lioran's legs—
legs that had never trembled before, not even in the face of death.
But now they were shaking uncontrollably.
Hearing Lioran's uneven breathing, she raised her head again and stared at his face.
"I…"
Lioran paused, as if the words were caught in his throat.
"I'm scared it might be my mother… My heart… it feels like it's about to burst out of my chest.
If it's her… if that's my mother, what am I supposed to do?"
A brief silence followed.
"One part of me says go forward and look… maybe it's not her. Maybe it's someone else wearing my mother's work clothes.But another part…"
His voice trembled.
"Another part says—what if it is her?
Don't go… just stay here…
Don't move at all…"
The sorrow in Lioran's words was clearly visible in Anahita's eyes.
She clenched her fists tightly, as if feeling guilty for the situation Lioran was in.
Then she spoke in a calm but firm voice—the kind of voice that left no room for escape.
"If your legs are shaking and won't move, then walk on your hands.
If your hands start shaking and fail too, then crawl.
You have to move forward… even if the pain is unbearable. You have to do it for your mother."
Lioran stared straight into her eyes.
Then his gaze drifted, almost against his will, back to the body nailed to the tree.
Those few words seemed to break something inside him… or perhaps force him to move.
"Please… don't let it be my mom…"
Lioran took the first step.
His legs trembled, but he didn't stop.
The second step…
The third…
With every step, it felt as if the ground beneath him grew weaker.
Anahita followed a short distance behind him, silent and careful—
ready, if Lioran were to collapse.
Lioran was still moving forward slowly when, suddenly, a memory bloomed in his mind—like a soft dagger.
Five-year-old Lioran had stretched his lips almost to his ears.
A forced smile. Painful. Unnatural.
"How about this?
Are you happy now, Mom?"
His mother's laughter rang out—warm, lively, real.
She placed her hand on Lioran's head and gently stroked his hair.
"No, sweetheart… not like that. I wanted a real smile.
A smile that comes from your heart, not one you force."
Little Lioran lowered his head. His voice was quiet and fragile.
"But… no smile ever comes from my heart…"
His mother paused for a moment.
Then she pressed her forehead against Lioran's.
She looked into his small, cold eyes and said with a playful yet deeply gentle smile,
"That's okay.
Then until the day you can laugh from the bottom of your heart, I'll laugh for both of us.
Deal?"
The memory suddenly vanished—
as if someone had violently pulled a curtain closed.
Now Lioran stood only a few steps away from the body nailed to the tree.