Polathrin's Ruins

Kinj kicked the dirt as he walked. It wasn’t cold, but he had a jacket on with his hands stuffed deep into the pockets. There were a million footsteps headed the other direction, but he was pushing on. The parade had ended, the military had left, and now the only thing that remained was the nakedness of the festival.

The other citizens had marked it as a loss, quick to leave and hide inside the safety of their homes with their families whole. They were going to talk and nod and sigh about tragedy, but Kinj knew, they would move on. It wasn’t their family or even their friends. There was a disconnect, even though the west side of the wall claimed to be so much better than the east.

Kinj took a deep breath of brisk, morning air. The sun was barely dropping below the horizon, and the air was crisp with autumn cold. His mother, Clara, was inconsolable, his little brother practically turned to stone, and Thajin floated around as if searching for purpose in complete silence.

They had all witnessed their father being burned alive, and grief was hitting them hard. Kinj liked to believe he was stronger than they were, but the cavern of emptiness grew in his heart. Pangs of anger brought new tears randomly, though he was eager to walk than stay and show it.

What was even better was the way the group had left. No one said anything, but it was clear their absence was weighing heavily on the family. It was as if the guests had been burned along with his father, Warren, and Galina. It felt like everyone had deserted them. Even if it meant Kinj and his family were safer, he always imagined they would leave on better terms instead of like ghosts.

As Kinj rounded the remains of the festival, he felt his heart fall closer and closer to the ground until he could see the charred remains of the burn zone. He stopped for a moment. His breath caught in middle of his throat, taunting tears to make their appearance as they had for the last couple hours. It was impossible to think it was real. Witnessing everything made it concrete, but the remains would hopefully settle it.

Kinj took a heavy step forward, pushing himself to continue, even though every muscle and bone in his body was calling for him to run in the other direction. It won’t end, he thought to himself. It had only been a couple hours, not even a full day, and he already felt an aching that wouldn’t cease. He couldn’t leave his father, or the others here. He came to finish it, to bury them, and take his father’s memory home.

He reached the stage, the sturdy structure holding strong, but burned black, barely touching Kinj’s pointed chin. Kinj didn’t allow himself to stop this time, climbing the stage quickly. His hands turned black, his knees forever stained, he crawled forward.

When the bodies had burned through to the top, the rope holding their arms up had snapped, leaving them in charcoal heaps stretched out in their separate directions. Warren was to the left, Galina to the right, and the dark object in front of him, his father. It was unrecognizable, barely the shape of his human body remaining besides his head and what looked like bent arms. Was this all there was? Was this all Kinj had left?

Kinj sucked in a quick breath of air, tears beginning to fill his eyes until the overflow stung his cheeks. He reached out, trying to touch his father’s face, but the casing started to crumble inward, so he stopped. His breathing came in tiny gasps as he wrapped his arms around himself, his tears flowing down to touch what remained of the body.

After a while, he started to regain control, but as his eyes turned to Galina, he broke down again. Sliding himself on his legs toward her, his hands delicately traced the outline of her form. There was a part of him, however small, that had always imagined they would have ended up together. They had played as kids, made out as teens, but she chose Warren; she had always chosen Warren. Kinj whimpered, recalling why there was an unfamiliar bump on her form. Pregnant. Out of all the people to be burned, why did it have to be her?

Warren lay on the opposite side of his wife, his body’s shape more familiar. Kinj gave a small smile through his sadness recalling all the competitions and games they had conceived in their youthful years. They were friends, though not the best most of the time, but there was still a deep air of regret in not moving past their differences.

Staring at the charred bodies was the biggest reminder of time lost and wasted.

Collecting himself, Kinj whispered a small prayer for the lost souls to mother Arji. It was short, but it was all he had. He wasn't a religious person before any of this.

He would only be able to collect their ashes, but it would be better than nothing when it came to laying them to rest. Kinj sniffled, looking to his darkened hands, wondering where to begin. Where would one start for bodies such as these?

A sudden snapping sound caught Kinj's attention.

An intake of breath that wasn’t his own caught him off guard. Kinj froze, looking to his father and then Galina. There was another snap before Kinj saw Warren sit up. Pieces of black falling off here and there to reveal new, dark skin underneath. Covered in crinkled layers of black, the whites of his eyes stood out, riddled with worry and confusion. Kinj’s heart drummed against his chest as he fell back, pushing himself away in fear.

“Galina?” Warren muttered as he pulled off burned pieces from his mouth to reveal his lips.

Kinj opened his mouth. He closed it. He tried to open it again but fell short with only a confused collection of vowels sputtering between his clamped teeth.

“Burned,” Warren whispered, looking down to his arms. “Fire,” he mumbled as he peeled off more burned skin.

Kinj tried to swallow his horror as he watched the flakes of skin hit the wooden stage with a solid plop. Warren seemed drunk or drugged. Clearly the flames had affected him, even though his skin appeared almost undamaged.

Warren suddenly stood up, more pieces falling as he moved. His eyes looked out to the empty space where the crowd once was. He searched it, as if seeing something Kinj couldn’t see, before he leapt from the stage.

Kinj turned, trying to find his voice as his old friend stumbled away. At first his feet were shaky, and he didn’t run straight, but as he gained speed, Warren settled on a path. He ran far past the festival boundaries, and Kinj remained in awe. Galina and Roj were dead, and they would not be waking up, but somehow Warren had survived. Why? How?