Rain hammered endlessly on the remnants of the shelter, each drop echoing the grief that weighed upon the survivors. Outside, the meadow was a tapestry of fire and shadow, while the rivers, so often wild, lay silent beneath the watchful gaze of the gladiolus. The air was thick with mist, swallowing the edges of the world and blurring all boundaries between hope and despair.
The tree had grown unchecked, its bark scarred by the battles it had witnessed, each year a silent testimony to patience. It seemed to mock those who huddled in the shelter, its branches moving with the wind as if grinning at their suffering. The bird atop its crown, wings flecked with crimson, watched every movement below—a sentinel to the darkness that suffused the land.
Survivors gathered in silence, each one gazing into mirrors that reflected only regret and longing. They whispered to themselves, wishing they had held tighter to each other's hands before loss became their constant companion. Sorrow lingered in the air—a heavy, invisible hand that gripped throats and choked words before they could be spoken.
Had they known what would come, they would have embraced every fleeting moment, treasured every smile. Now, only the sharp sword of a time that no longer exists pierces their hearts, its touch both cruel and gentle. All eyes turn to the horizon, longing for a savior angel who, rumor has it, has been asleep for years.
Some survivors venture outside, their footsteps muffled by the wet earth. They gather around the tree, each one reaching upward to tie a keepsake to the tallest branch. The bird watches, unmoving, its blood-stained wings gleaming in the pale light. "If only the rain could wash away regret," one whispers into the darkness.
Each bloom seems a silent farewell, a promise that the blood of loved ones lost will not be forgotten. The survivors linger, hands clasped tightly, awaiting a miracle that may never come. The relentless rain continues, softening the pain for a moment as the horizon blurs, and hope flickers quietly within the fog.
