Reconnaissance

Caedes felt the weight of Mariah's gaze on him as he spoke his story into existence. Her silver eyes blazed with a depth of understanding and empathy that both comforted and unnerved him. It was difficult to tell her these things, to open himself up so much. His eyes flickered away from her, struggling to hold her gaze, even as he felt her presence grounding him in the present. But then the gentle pressure of her touch pulled him back from the dark recesses of his memories as she spoke.

“Choices?” He repeated softly, the word foreign on his tongue. He forced himself to meet her eyes again, seeing the sadness and determination in her expression. “You make it sound so simple, Mariah.” He paused, taking a deep breath as he searched for the right words, his nails flexing into the ground. “It's hard to believe in choices when it feels like every path leads to more suffering.”

His gaze flickered to the spot where Aurelia had died, the memory of that night a fresh wound in his heart. He saw Mariah's eyes follow his, the silent offer in her expression clear. She wanted to help, to share the burden, but this was something he had to face himself. “You are... so kind.” He continued, his voice steadier now. “But this... this is something I need to do. Aurelia was my... friend, and I owe it to her to face this. To honor her memory when I could not stop her death.” At the very least, that much was true. And even if he did not beat himself up over the fact it would remain so.

He moved toward the spot where Aurelia had taken her last breaths, his steps slow and deliberate, each one weighted with the gravity of his emotions. He crouched down, his fingers brushing the ground as he took a moment to gather his thoughts. His heart ached with apologies to the stain on the ground, the mush that remained of her head. And then he moved to wet a fallen cloth with the spring that leaked from the far corner of his den, returning only to stare down at the bloody puddle.

“You know..” He said, his voice barely above a whisper, “I thought I was stronger. That I could not feel like this. Grieve. Wish they were alive. But if I felt nothing, I think I would feel very, very weak instead.”

With that, Caedes began to clean the area, his movements slow but determined. Each sweep of his hand with the wet cloth, each careful touch, was a small step forward. He was meticulous about it. It was painful, but necessary. As he worked, he felt a shift within himself, a tentative belief that perhaps, just perhaps, he was past the initial grief. Mariah's presence by his side made the task a little less daunting, and for the first time in a long while, he felt a glimmer of himself return. The him that survived.