He did not know how long the train ride had lasted, but as the train slowed down, the light of the morning sun encroached on the horizon. Scrunching his face, his eyes began to flutter open. The vast greenery of Zelona had long been left behind, now he was surrounded by the familiar rustic streets of his home. A thin layer of snow had already formed on their roofs.

  ‘Huh, I guess it's that time of year already.’

  He instinctively sunk deeper into the train cart's cushion, a looming sense of dread hung over him. He could not shake away the thoughts of his vivid dream. They clung to him, refusing to grant him even a moment of solace.

  ‘… Has it really only been three years? Feels more like a lifetime, I’ve done so much… Yet, it feels like I’ve accomplished nothing.’

  Looking away from the window, the once empty train cart, now began to flood in with people on their way to work. A deep breath escaped his lungs, as he sat up.

  ‘Ugh… How is it possible I feel worse? I would have thought the mending would have reduced at least some of the pain.’

  Reluctantly, Soren pulled himself off the comfortable cushion, his body felt as though he had been hit by a car… or an enhanced peace keeper. Even so, he still found the strength to pull himself to his feet. Wincing as he stood up Soren clutched the side of his ribs where the keeper so kindly buried his foot. Soren began to leave the busy cart. A few people threw him glances, be it confusion, or concern, he did not care.

  Today was not a day he focused on the opinions of strangers, he rarely thought of himself. Which would be seen as strange to most, who wouldn’t think of themselves on their own birthday?

  ‘They’re probably just confused as to why a young boy is covered in cuts and bruises… That, or its the strong scent of smoke on me.’

  Indeed, the scent was quite strong, even after swapping his clothes, that smell was very present.

  Every step he took caused him to wince. Descending the steps of the train cart, he gripped the railing until he stepped down onto the station platform. For how early in the morning it was, the station was incredibly busy. People were dressed up in suits, and simple dresses. With his simple clothes, he stood out like a sore thumb. Not to mention he looked even worse, he had soot in his hair, and large purple bruises on his face and body. Though, he was in too much pain to care.

  Pushing past crowds of people, he did his best to weave through, but he ended up bumping shoulders with a few people. One of which was a tall older man, he had a thick mustache and a bowler hat.

  “Tsk… Watch where you’re going, boy!”

  He gave the man a courteous apology and turned away, leaving the disgruntled man behind. He could hear him mutter something under his breath as he walked away, but paid it no mind.

  Freeing himself from the large crowd, ascending a large staircase. Holding on to the railing made it a lot easier for his injured body Soren escaped the confines of the busy station. The sun had fully risen, casting its warm light on the snow covered streets. Basking in that light for a moment, he let out a relieved sigh, the cold air stung his lungs.

  ‘No matter how long I live here, I’ll never get used to this cold… Honestly, why I still come back boggles my mind.’

  Burying his hands in his coat pockets, he tucked his nose into his scarf, trying to alleviate some of the cold. Gritting his teeth he tried not to focus on the pain, he shifted his attention to the busy streets. There were various automobiles passing by, waiting for the right moment he hurriedly crossed the road. He slowed his pace once he reached the walkway, moving along with the groups of people starting their day.

  The place he’d unfortunately come to know as home was far different from the neighboring regions. Unlike the Hatthaways, the Carmichaels didn’t seem to care as much about outward appearances. The stone walls of the buildings all had various cracks, and bricks that didn’t quite match in color. The buildings all looked like they belonged to the past.

  ‘For the most scientifically advanced part of the city, you would expect something a bit more… colorful.’

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  The other regions all had a unique personality to them. Zelona was filled with greenery, Onscura was basked in eternal darkness, and all Ravenshollow had were the countless factories.

  Ravenshollow felt so lifeless, so… mechanical. Every day was the same monotonous pattern, people woke up at the same time, they went to work at the same time. Like cogs in a massive machine, everyone had their place and did what they were told.

  If you went deep enough, you’d eventually reach the slums. While on paper the slums were a part of Ravenshollow, it felt more like an entirely different region. Nothing good came from that place… not even him.

  Soren had been lost in thought so long he didn’t realize that he had arrived at his destination. He stood in front of a large rusted gate, on the gate was a wooden placard, estate Grimshade was written on it. Looking past the gate, he stared at the large manor for a while. He stood there, as if trying to find a reason not to enter, but sadly, he lacked one.

  His shoulder sank, and he let out a deep breath. Pushing the iron gate open was not particularly hard, but it was certainly not easy. Slipping into the yard he made his way home. Every step he took, was met with the crunching sound of the snow. After leaving a trail of footsteps in the snow, he stepped onto the steps leading to a large set of doors.

  Leaning against the stone railing he slowly made his way up. His body was ready to collapse in bed, at this point he grew accustomed to the aching pain his body was in.

  Gripping the handle he pulled the large door open, closing it behind him as he entered.

  ‘The one good thing about this place, people are too scared to try and rob me.’

  After the events three years ago, Soren’s home had been seen as cursed. People would often avoid getting near it, fearing they would be cursed.

  ‘Tsk… Superstitious fools! A house can’t curse you. Now, a monstrous former owner. Most definitely.’

  Turning a dial attached to one of the walls, the lights all grew bright, chasing away the darkness. Walking deeper into his home he turned another dial on the adjacent wall. In a few moments the air grew far warmer, alleviating some of his discomfort.

  ‘Ahh, better. Now at least I don’t have to deal with the damned cold.’

  As he began to remove the stolen scarf, he paused, his eyes fixated on the large window overlooking the garden behind the manor. His expression softened, as knots formed in his stomach. Taking a deep breath in, he moved closer to the window. Stopping just short of it, his gaze was stuck on four large snow covered dirt mounds in front of the large oak tree. There was a crudely built wooden cross resembling a star marking each of the mounds… Graves.

  Removing the journal from his coat pocket he tossed it on a nearby table, his eyes never leaving the graves.

  Staring at them brought back nothing but painful memories, ones he wished to lock away and forget all about. But he knew deep down he needed to carry that memory, if he didn’t then they would be forgotten.

  ‘Death was one thing, but I can’t let them be forgotten too… I won’t let it happen.’

  Death was the end of one's life, but not the end of their memory. In his eyes, carrying the memory of them, no matter how painful, kept them close to him. It was as if a piece of them got to live on with him.

  With his mind a jumble of past regrets and future burdens, he exited through a door leading to the garden. His steps were slow and measured, as if trying to prolong his inevitable arrival. Finally he stood before them, kneeling down, his eyes never left those sorrowful mounds. Inhaling the sharp cold air, he spoke in quiet hushed words, as if he was hoping no one would hear.

  “It’s been a while huh… I know I don’t really come out here as much as I should. I’ve just been busy, you know.”

  He stared at the graves, as if waiting for a reply that would never come.

  “I think I'm really close this time! Whatever happened to Killian, I know Julian had something to do with it! Whatever made him go mad, I’ll figure it out… I promise, this time… I won’t let you all down.”

  His words were met with nothing but deafening silence, he struggled to continue, fearing the inevitable tears that would follow.

  “I’m sixteen now. In a few weeks I’ll be at the academy, so I won’t be able to visit for a while… Depending on how things go with this lead, I might not make it back at all. But, if this turns out how I hope then, I can finally make it up to you.”

  …

  “I won't be a coward this time, I won’t stand there and watch. This time… This time things will end differently.”

  Filled with a sense of determination, he stood up, looking down at the mounds.

  “I will make sure you can rest easy, ok. Just wait a little longer, I’ll set things right.”

  He lingered for a few moments, but despite his early hesitation, he found himself now desperate to stay, if even a moment longer. But time waited for no one, there were things he had to do, debts needing to be settled… A monster needed to be slain.

  Turning away he headed back inside, the sorrow he felt had long been replaced, with the familiar burning desire, the thing that drove him to be someone else. He had found his hate once again.