Lucius was now twelve years old. A full year had passed since he and his mother Juliet began living with the old man named Ron in the forest.
In that one year, everything had changed.
Ron wasn't just a kind stranger anymore — he had become family. A grandfather figure to Lucius, and a protective father figure to Juliet. He gave them food, shelter, safety… but even more than that, he gave them peace.
The little wooden hut had been repaired and made cozy over time. The walls no longer creaked, and there were now proper beds and shelves filled with supplies. They even built a small fence around it using fallen branches and logs.
But life in the forest wasn't just peaceful. It was dangerous — filled with strange, monstrous creatures that came out after the great earthquake. Ron made sure Lucius was ready for this new world.
He trained him every day.
Lucius learned how to run silently through the trees, how to use traps, how to aim and shoot with a rifle, and even how to tell which mushrooms were safe to eat. He became sharper, quicker, and stronger.
They had killed many monsters together — small ones, weak ones — but even those were terrifying. Lucius hated them, but he faced them like a warrior.
And so on a quiet morning, Lucius was out front, doing his daily exercises — push-ups, squats, and stretches, just like Ron had taught him.
"Lucius! Lunch is ready!" his mother called from inside the hut.
He stood up, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and went inside.
The smell of cooked fish filled the room. Lucius sighed. It was fish again.
Juliet placed a plate in front of him and Ron. Both of them looked at the fish and frowned.
"You two need protein!" she said with a stern look, placing another piece on each of their plates.
"Juliet… I really don't like fish." Ron mumbled, poking it with his fork.
Lucius chuckled. "Come on, gramps. Be brave."
They all laughed a little.
Just as they were about to start eating, a loud creaking sound echoed from the front door.
The laughter stopped.
All three turned their heads.
And then they saw it.
A creature stepped through the door — green, with sharp teeth, long fingers, and yellow eyes. It was shaped like a human but clearly wasn't one. A goblin.
Lucius froze. It was the first time he had seen a creature like this in all the thirteen months he'd lived there.
It looked strong, much stronger than the small ones they had faced before.
Ron stood up immediately and grabbed his rifle.
BANG!
The shot hit the goblin square in the chest. It fell to the floor.
Lucius and Juliet sighed in relief… but only for a second.
Because suddenly, the goblin's body twitched. Then it started to heal.
Its chest sealed up.
It stood up again.
Before they could react, a crash came from the window.
Another goblin — bigger, meaner — smashed through the glass. And with one swift move, its clawed hand pierced through Ron's chest.
"RON!!" Juliet screamed.
Blood spilled.
But Ron didn't fall.
He turned, kicked the goblin hard in the stomach, and fired three more shots into its face.
Then he shouted:
"RUN! Get out of here! NOW!"
Lucius and Juliet didn't argue.
It felt like déjà vu — running again, just like that first day in the forest.
They ran through the trees, the wind cold against their skin, branches slashing at their arms and legs.
After some time, they reached a strange place — a treehouse, built between tall trees with a small wooden ladder leading up. It looked hidden, safe.
They climbed in quickly, panting, trying to catch their breath.
Then Lucius turned to his mother… and froze.
Her eyes… were covered in blood.
"Mom—your eyes! Your eyes!" he cried out.
Juliet touched her face.
"It's nothing. Don't worry, Lucius. I can still hear your voice. That's enough." she said softly, even though the pain was clearly tearing her apart.
Just then, a low growl came from behind them.
A white wolf — large and wild — stepped forward.
Lucius felt the same fear rise in his chest again.
But suddenly—
Swish!
An arrow flew through the air and struck the wolf straight in the chest. It dropped to the ground.
From the trees, three men jumped down.
One had red hair, and the other two had black hair, and they all looked strong, with scars across their faces and weapons in their hands — swords, bows, and knives.
They looked like warriors.
"This place isn't safe," one of them said, eyeing Lucius and Juliet. "What are you doing here?"
Juliet stepped forward, standing in front of Lucius even though she could barely see.
"We lived in the forest, in a hut with someone… but monsters attacked. We had to run. Please… we don't want trouble."
One of the black-haired men, holding a long sword, nodded.
"It's not safe here. Come with us. We have a base — a treehouse village. Others like you are there. You'll be safe."
Juliet turned to Lucius, who was shaking from everything that had just happened.
And then she nodded.
"Okay. We'll come."
Lucius looked back once, toward the direction of the hut.
He didn't know if Ron had survived. He didn't know what would happen next.
..
Juliet held Lucius's hand tightly as they walked through the forest with the three men.
One of the black-haired men noticed her slow steps and asked, "Is something wrong?"
Juliet replied calmly, "My eyes… I can't see."
Lucius turned toward her, concern flooding his face. "Mom… what?"
She smiled softly, trying to comfort him despite the pain. "Don't worry. I'm just blind now. Everything's fine as long as you're with me."
Her grip tightened.
They walked in silence for some time. The trees were thick, the wind cold, and Lucius's legs were starting to ache. Juliet, too, was breathing heavily.
"How much longer?" she asked, gently. "My son and I are tired."
The red-haired man looked back and said, "Don't worry. Just 10 to 15 minutes more."
Lucius was just about to reply when—
BAAM!
A sudden pain shot through his head. Something hard — cold and metallic — had struck him.
The world spun.
He collapsed.
"What are you doing?!" Juliet screamed, panic in her voice.
But Lucius could no longer hear her clearly. Everything faded into a thick, black fog.
---
Lucius didn't know how long he was out.
But when he opened his eyes, the sky above was grey. The birds were silent. The forest around him felt… empty.
He sat up suddenly, panic flooding through his chest.
"Mom?" he shouted. "Mom!"
There was no answer.
His hands trembled as he tried to stand. His head hurt. His vision was blurry. But his mind was clear — something terrible had happened.
He tried to remember. He focused hard.
One memory came back — a voice, just before he passed out:
"Take her to the treehouse."
Lucius ran.
Branches cut his arms, thorns scratched his legs, but he didn't stop. He reached the treehouse and climbed up the wooden ladder as fast as he could.
When he opened the door, the world went silent. He saw scene which he was too familiar with which he saw manytimes in his grandfather house.
There, in the center of the room… his mother lay motionless. Her body was bruised, her clothes torn. She was breathing — barely — but she was unconscious.
Lucius didn't speak. He didn't scream.
It had been three days.
Juliet hadn't opened her eyes. She hadn't moved. She just lay there in the treehouse, her chest still, like a calm sea.
Lucius didn't speak. He didn't cry. He didn't eat. He just sat beside her.
Watching. Waiting.
He didn't sleep. He didn't even blink for long. He was terrified that if he looked away, even for a second, she might die.
His face looked calm.
But his heart?
Shattered beyond repair.
Suddenly, he heard laughter outside.
He stood up slowly, like a ghost, and peeked through the cracked wooden window of the treehouse.
There they were.
Dorant — the red-haired man — laughing with a woman Lucius had never seen before. She was smiling sweetly, walking barefoot through the forest like she owned it.
Then Dorant bent down… and picked up a tree.
Not a branch.
A tree. A giant one — three times bigger than him — lifted like it weighed nothing.
Lucius didn't react outwardly. His face didn't even twitch. But his mind? His mind was racing, trying to make sense of what he just saw.
Then it got weirder.
The woman pointed at another tree — and the tree just lifted off the ground and floated.
Magic.
Lucius had read stories about it. Fantasies whispered by the old man. But seeing it with his own eyes?
It was real.
They weren't just monsters in heart. They had powers.
Lucius stared for a moment longer. The laughter faded. The two left, carrying the trees with them as if they were just sticks.
He looked back at his mother.
Still asleep. Still not waking up.
Time was running out.
Lucius climbed down quietly and started walking. He didn't know the exact way, but something deep inside — some instinct — pulled him toward the old hut where they used to live with Ron.
It was far.
But pain keeps the legs moving.
Hours passed. His feet bled. His hands shook. But finally, he saw it.
The old hut.
It looked like a skeleton of what it once was. Walls cracked. Furniture smashed. Nature had already started reclaiming it.
He stepped inside.
Dust. Silence. Memories.
He walked into the kitchen. A corner basket — half torn — still had a few old supplies. He stuffed in some dry food, herbs, and cloth. Then, as he turned, his eyes stopped.
Ron's rifle.
It lay against the wall.
No blood. No body. Just the gun.
Lucius took it. No hesitation. Not for revenge. Not for justice.
For survival.
On the way back, he stopped at the sea.
The waves were calm. Peaceful.
He filled every bottle he had. Then he splashed cold water on Juliet's face.
One.
Two.
Three times.
Suddenly—
Her eyes fluttered open.
"Lucius…" she whispered, barely audible. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"
Lucius smiled faintly.
"No, Mom," he said softly. "Come with me. Let's go to the sea."
She was weak. Fragile. But she nodded, trusting him completely. He helped her walk, step by step.
---
Meanwhile…
Dorant and the others stood in front of the treehouse.
They looked tense. Anxious.
"Do you think she got away?" one of the black-haired men asked.
"Impossible," Dorant replied. "She was blind and barely breathing. The boy was unconscious. Still…"
They climbed into the treehouse.
They froze.
There, lying on the floor, was Juliet's body.
Still.
Cold.
Eyes closed.
Water bottles beside her — untouched.
Dorant stared.
No signs of the boy.
His face twisted in confusion. Anger. Then calm.
"She's dead," he muttered. "The boy must've run. He won't get far."