Helmut: The Forsaken Child - H.F.C Chapter 14 (Part 2):
After his words, silence followed. Darien seemed about to say something more but then asked.
“Is there anything else you want to ask me?”
“Are you really going to stay here?”
“Yes.”
His answer was firm, showing his resolve.
“Nothing more to say?”
Darien waved his hand dismissively, as if shooing away an annoyance.
“I’m going to take a nap now. I have something for you. I’ll have it ready, so come back tomorrow morning. I want to be alone for a while.”
Helmut watched Darien’s retreating back as he entered the cabin.
The broad and robust back, still upright, seemed smaller today.
A chilling premonition brushed a corner of his heart.
‘What is this feeling.’
“What are you doing, not going!”
At the sudden shout from inside the cabin, Helmut finally moved his feet.
Something inexplicable held him back, but it wasn’t enough reason to stay. It was Darien’s wish.
That day, Helmut sat by the water, staying up all night. It was a night oddly devoid of sleep. Elaga quietly came and kept him company without a word.
As dawn approached, Helmut stood up.
Elaga’s voice echoed from behind.
“Take care.”
Standing in front of the cabin, Helmut stiffened. Darien’s sword and a small bundle lay in front of the wide-open door. And inside the cabin…
“Darien.”
There was no response. Sitting upright in a formal pose with his eyes closed, Darien was silent.
‘Is he asleep?’
As Helmut approached, he felt an odd sensation and stopped. There was no sound of breathing.
An empty shell, devoid of vitality, as if the body was void of life. His heart felt as if it was frozen.
The weight of Darien, now stiff as a carved stone, was indescribable.
Helmut reached out to pick up the sword. It felt heavy in his hand.
The scabbard was battered and broken in places, but the blade shone with an astonishing sharpness when drawn.
A rare masterpiece.
He remembered Darien scolding him for showing interest in this sword, saying not to even dream of touching it until after his death.
Suddenly, tears welled up.
‘Did I not know? No, I knew.’
There had been a vague premonition. The diminishing movements, the decreasing sparring sessions, the fading vitality.
Helmut suddenly recalled what Elaga had said in the past.
‘A remarkably strong human. But in the Forest of Roots, even the strongest human cannot withstand the Magic and gradually weakens. He didn’t have the seed of darkness like you, so he wouldn’t have lived long. I saw him long before you appeared, so he’s probably dead by now.’
Perhaps, the fact that Darien’s life was nearing its end was not unknown. It wasn’t that he didn’t know what to do; he simply chose not to pay attention. Perhaps he even tried not to think about it.
Because Darien was strong. Somehow, it seemed like he wouldn’t succumb to something as trivial as death.
His limbs felt cold as if drained of blood, and his heart throbbed. Contrarily, the emotion welling up from his stomach to his throat was hot. Cold and heat mingled together in confusion.
Helmut clenched his teeth. It was a new feeling.
The sorrow of loss.
‘Would it have been better to stay by his side until the end?’
But Darien probably didn’t want to show his last moments to Helmut.
Dying alone like an animal away from its pack. That was the end he chose. A lonely death befitting a swordsman.
Helmut closed his eyes tightly. He mulled over the words Darien had said the night before.
Every last one of his bequests. Words that must never be forgotten, never to be heard again.
When Helmut opened his eyes again, he tidied up the cabin. After gathering what he needed, he filled the room with wood and set the cabin and everything in it ablaze.
Burning it was better than being devoured by beasts.
‘Everything he left behind is now within me.’
Helmut watched the cabin burn fiercely for a long while. Only when the flames had died down, leaving nothing but ashes, did he pick up his belongings and begin to move.
His life here had come to an end. It was time to leave.
Leaving this cabin and the Forest of Roots.