Life Beyond End

Flynn... what had really happened back in his village? The thought gnawed at Auden as he walked in silence, his eyes fixed on the small boy trudging ahead of him. Flynn hadn't spoken a single word since the conversation earlier—since the devastating truth had been laid bare.

Jane, Elene, Auden, and Pheore escorted him back to his room. The air between them was thick with an unspoken tension. Every creak of the old wooden floor beneath their feet felt like an unwelcome intrusion in the heavy silence.

Flynn's face was unreadable, his eyes distant as if he were somewhere else entirely. He looked smaller than usual, swallowed up by the weight of something none of them could fully grasp.

Creak...

Jane opened the door to Flynn's room and stepped inside with him. She led him to the bed, guiding him gently by the arm. Her movements were careful, deliberate, as though she was afraid he might shatter if she wasn't.

"F-Flynn, I'll wake you up tomorrow," she said softly, her voice trembling just enough to betray her own sadness. Her ears drooped low, mirroring the sorrow etched across her face. She pulled the blanket over him, tucking him in with care, though Flynn made no effort to respond or even acknowledge her.

"Y-you can sleep all you want for today," she added, her voice barely above a whisper. "Rest well, Flynn..."

She lingered for a moment, hesitating before stepping back toward the door. With a final glance at his still, silent form, she closed it behind her.

Click.

Outside, Jane leaned against the door, letting out a shaky sigh. "Haaah... I really feel bad for Flynn," she muttered under her breath. "If only I could do something for him... anything..."

Her ears twitched as Pheore's voice broke the silence. "Jane, what you said about Flynn—about what happened in Corrane Village. Was it true?"

Jane turned to her, her expression heavy. "Yeah..." She nodded slowly. "After all... Flynn told me the story himself."

"So, those bandits," Elene interjected, her voice laced with unease. "The ones who raided the village... the ones sent by debt collectors. They killed everyone... without a trace?"

Elene's brow furrowed as a theory began to form in her mind. Could they have kidnapped the villagers first? Killed them somewhere else? She bit her lip, trying to make sense of it all.

Auden's gaze shifted to Pheore. His tone was low and serious. "Darling, you know the 'Primordial Mages' from the old legends, right?"

Pheore blinked, caught off guard by the sudden question. "You mean those mages who have affinities beyond the four elements?"

Auden nodded. "Exactly."

"You're not saying..." Pheore's voice faltered, her eyes widening as she looked at him. "You think Flynn is one of them?"

Jane hesitated before chiming in. "When Flynn fought the bandits... it was strange. Anyone who tried to attack him, anyone who even entered the barn where he was—they just... died. Instantly."

Auden crossed his arms, his expression grim. "So it's true, then?"

"W-well, yes..." Jane admitted, her voice wavering. "That's part of it..."

"Part of it?" Elene asked, her brows knitting together in confusion. "What do you mean 'part of it'?"

Jane swallowed hard, her hands fidgeting nervously. "I-it was like Flynn... died. I saw it with my own eyes. He was stabbed—right here." She gestured to her chest. "But then... he came back to life. There was this yellow glow in his chest where the blade went in."

The room went silent, the weight of her words settling over them like a suffocating blanket.

"It's just a theory," Auden said after a long pause, his voice steady but uncertain. "But if that's true, maybe he is a Primordial Mage."

"That might explain some things," Elene admitted, though doubt lingered in her tone. "But there's never been a confirmed sighting of a real one... not in centuries." She paused, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Still, if what Jane said is true, then Flynn might be the most powerful one we've ever seen."

Pheore crossed her arms, her gaze flicking toward Flynn's closed door. "But if that's the case... if he's really that powerful... then why would he let himself fall into a state like this? Why didn't he fight harder to save them?"

Auden's jaw tightened. "He's just a kid, Pheore."

"But he's not just any kid," Pheore countered. "You've seen what he's capable of. And if he really has powers like that, then we need to know. We need to understand what we're dealing with."

Jane's ears perked up slightly, her expression shifting to one of quiet determination. "Flynn's been through so much already. He doesn't need more pressure right now. What he needs is rest—and support."

The group fell into a contemplative silence, each of them lost in their own thoughts. The mystery surrounding Flynn was growing, and with it came an unsettling sense of foreboding.

Behind the door, Flynn lay motionless in his bed, the blanket pulled up to his chin. His eyes were open, staring blankly at the ceiling above him. He could hear their muffled voices, but the words didn't register.

Primordial Mage?

Most powerful?

It didn't matter. None of it mattered.

His chest ached—not from the wound that had miraculously healed, but from the unbearable weight of everything he'd lost. It was as if the grief had carved itself into his bones, an invisible wound that no magic could ever hope to mend.

The faces of the villagers flashed through his mind, one after another, their smiles now twisted into haunting memories. Faree, with her endless patience and warm laughter. Daniel, his quiet strength that always steadied everyone. The children, their giggles once echoing through the streets as they played tag or kicked around old sacks stuffed with straw.

All of it... gone.

Flynn squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to block out the images, but that only seemed to make them sharper. The flames. The screams. The suffocating heat that had swallowed the village whole.

If I'd been stronger... if I'd acted faster...

His fists clenched beneath the thin blanket, nails biting into his palms hard enough to draw blood.

The glow. The power that had surged through him at the very last second, wild and untamed. He'd thought it was a gift, a lifeline.

It wasn't enough.

Nothing I did was enough.

A tear slid down his cheek, then another, hot and bitter against his skin. He didn't bother to wipe them away. They came freely now, soaking into the pillow beneath him as the weight of failure bore down on his chest.

---

The voices outside murmured, soft but insistent, like a steady buzz Flynn couldn't quite tune out. The survivors—what few of them were left—huddled around the dying embers of a campfire. Their words were fractured whispers, carrying the familiar threads of doubt, fear, and something like fragile hope.

But Flynn couldn't bring himself to care about what they were saying.

Inside the small, makeshift shelter, the silence felt heavier than the air itself. His breath hitched as despair curled itself around his heart, squeezing tighter and tighter.

What am I supposed to do now?

He blinked slowly, staring at the rough wooden wall across from him. The question hung there, unanswered, in the stillness of the room.

---

No.

Flynn's lips pressed into a thin line as another thought pierced through the fog of guilt and grief.

I've faced things like this before...

The memories of his past life came rushing in, unbidden. Thomald. The name echoed in his mind, sharp and unforgiving. He had endured horrors then, too, hadn't he? Betrayals. Losses. Destruction.

And yet, here he was. Still standing.

I've survived before. I can survive this.

The flicker of determination was short-lived. A fresh wave of anguish hit him like a tidal wave, dragging him back down.

No. They died because of me.

Faree's face surfaced in his mind again, her kind eyes wide with terror. Daniel's steady voice turned into a desperate scream.

And then, the one face he couldn't bear to think about.

Dad.

Flynn's chest heaved as the tears came faster now, his shoulders trembling under the weight of it all.

---

He turned onto his side, the mattress creaking beneath him as he buried his face into the pillow. His tears soaked into the fabric, warm and relentless.

The cold air of the room pricked at his skin, but he didn't bother pulling the blanket up higher. His body felt heavy, too heavy to move, too heavy to do anything but lie there and let the grief swallow him whole.

For now...

The thought came softly, almost like a whisper.

For now, I'll just rest.

His eyes fluttered shut, though the images continued to haunt him. He wasn't sure if he could even sleep. His mind wouldn't stop spinning, replaying the same memories, the same screams, over and over.

I just... I just don't know what to do.

Flynn's breath hitched again, the silence in the room broken only by the faint sound of his muffled sobs.

=================

I changed the perspective from 1st to 3rd person to better portray the story.