The rain poured heavily, washing the blood flowing from Leonard's open wounds. The rhythmic sound of the drops seemed to come alive, each carrying stories that echoed in his tired mind. His vision began to close, a dark tunnel leading him to the brink of oblivion.
— Everything is so… calm… — he murmured, his jaw relaxing and then opening, his mouth brushing against the wet grass.
The confusion that had churned in his mind minutes before was fading, replaced by an almost supernatural stillness. It was a silence filled only by the rain and distant thunder, a strange serenity that seemed to carry an echo of despair.
Each drop falling on him bore weight, a story, a muffled scream. The sound of the rain was both a lament and a melody, a ghostly chorus filling him with conflicting feelings. Peace. Agony. An inexplicable connection to that storm, as furious as his own soul.
— I… can't… stop — he whispered, though the words barely reached his own ears.
A small, flickering flame burned within the darkness inside him. It was a fragile but enveloping warmth, radiating through every fiber of his body, defying the cold water running down his skin. He clung to that spark, the last remnant of hope, as if it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the world of the living.
With an almost superhuman effort, Leonard reached out and grabbed the handle of his broken sword. Using it for support, he began to drag himself forward. The movement was slow, each pull seeming to draw more from the little energy he had left. The pain was unbearable; his muscles screamed, his skin scraped against the damp ground — but he kept going.
The sky flashed with a sudden lightning strike, and the thunder that followed seemed to want to split the world in two. Leonard paused, dazzled, feeling the blast reverberate through his bones. The frantic dance of the storm above seemed to mock him, but also challenge him. "Get up," it seemed to say, "Prove you're still alive."
A memory from his childhood came like a flash of light in the darkness. He saw himself, still a child, running barefoot over the wet earth, hiding from Liam and Calli during endless games of hide-and-seek. It was a simpler time, when life was just play and laughter. A bitter smile touched his cracked lips.
"I just want… to go home."
But reality crushed those memories. The pain that made him shudder with every movement, the overwhelming weight of the rain, and the constant feeling of being consumed by the earth that held him. Leonard wondered if they had already given up on him, if his absence was a wound or just a shadow fading with time.
"Maybe I should give up…"
Leonard's mind flirted with the final freedom death promised. But then, like a blade cutting through the fog, determination returned. It wasn't time to stop. Not yet.
With renewed effort, he rose partially, leaning on the sword. Each step was agony, but he limped toward a great tree looming ahead. A vision straight out of a dream: the crimson oak was immense, its branches stretching as far as the eye could see, as if tearing through the sky.
— Here we go again — he murmured, a hoarse laugh escaping his throat.
The wind howled around him, the rain lashed like whips, but Leonard kept going, dragging himself to the tree's base. When he finally reached it, the storm seemed to intensify, as if the world was crying with him.
He fell to his knees, his body exhausted and throbbing with pain, but the flame inside him did not go out. On the contrary, it burned brighter. It was a determination that could not be silenced.
— I will go home.
The words were a vow, a pact with himself. The burden he carried was overwhelming, but it was also what kept him standing. Even in that storm, even in that pitiful state, Leonard knew he wouldn't give up. Not yet.
While beneath the tree, the storm seemed to tell a story. The wind blew in whirlwinds, as if trying to tell him something. Leonard, delirious, began to see shapes dancing in the rain. Indistinct figures, like shadows, moving among the drops. Were they memories? Hallucinations? He couldn't tell.
Suddenly, a clearer memory crossed his mind. He was in the kitchen of his old home, the smell of freshly baked bread filling the air. His mother smiled at him as she placed a bowl of hot soup on the table. It was such a mundane moment, but now it seemed a distant dream, something too precious to be real.
— I promised… I promised I'd come back — he murmured, gripping the sword tighter.
The image of his mother vanished as quickly as it had come, replaced by the vision of a monster he had faced months before. The creature, a black slime with tentacles and a single eye, seemed to be laughing at him. The sound of the rain turned into muffled, mocking laughter. Leonard shook his head, trying to chase away the visions.
— You won't stop me — he growled, his voice hoarse but firm.
The rain kept falling, but now it felt warmer, almost comforting. Leonard felt a strange sense of peace as he walked up to the oak trunk. The tree was immense, and its presence seemed almost protective. He closed his eyes for a moment, allowing himself a brief rest.
But the rest was interrupted by a different sound. A whisper. Leonard opened his eyes, looking around. No one was there, only rain and wind. But the whisper continued, a soft voice seeming to come from within the tree itself.
— You still have strength. Use it. This is not the end — said a voice from the depths no consciousness should access.
Leonard didn't know if he was hearing things or if the tree was really speaking to him. But the words hit like lightning. He stood up, using the sword as support. His body still ached, but the flame inside him burned stronger than ever.
— I will not fall here. — he said, with renewed determination.
He began to walk, limping but more steadily than before. The rain continued to fall, but now it seemed a blessing, washing away his doubts and fears. Each step brought him closer to something unknown, but also closer to himself.
Leonard's journey was far from over. But at that moment, beneath the storm and the shadow of the oak, he found something he thought he had lost: hope.