stuck, just waiting for days to pass,
but they never do.
Thh-thump
th-thump
th-thump
"The hell's- the hell's the big idea…" Eyes closed, a boy slurs to himself and turns over in his bed.
As if it's been wildly scribbled onto the world, a formless shadow looms over the boy. Its skin stretches thin as it hunches down towards him, spinal cord ripping through its obscured flesh. Reaching out with its impossibly long arms, the thing opens its mouth wide, rows of teeth line the bottomless pit. A thick fog of cool air froths at its mouth, low humming noises fill the air. Its hand touches the boy's soft face, caressing it.
th-thump
th-thump
th-thump
thunk.
The windows by the bed are pried open by a gust of wind. A dead branch falls onto the floor. Narrow streaks of light pierce through dark clouds and flood the room. The thing's hands twitch and stutter as the sunlight rests on the boy's closed eyes.
Its hands travel from the boy's forehead, down his nose ridge,to his lips, finally settling around his neck.
Fingers change shape. Stubby.Slender.Sharp.Soft.Tendrils shoot out of its back as if it couldn't contain its excitement any longer. Dark shadowy flesh pulsates and contracts ,writhing in time to the beat of its heart.
th-thump
th-thump
th-thump
The boy's eyes open slowly, staring directly into the things eyes, staring into oblivion. The thing retracts its hand from the boy's neck , placing it instead on its own chest. Maybe this time? The boy's head lolls to one side as he mumbles to himself. Eyes watering up , he stretches his arms towards the ceiling letting out an audible yawn. He rubs his palms into his eyes and gets out of bed, walking right through the thing.
Suddenly, he is on one knee, picking up a dead branch from the floor. His windows are now wide open.
"Am I really still this tired?" he mutters, standing up and looking at his hand. "Must've been all the damn noise."
There are two drab curtains in front of him, gnawed off at the bottom. A soft breeze comes through the window and he spreads the curtains open.
Gray clouds disperse and leave the sky bruised pink.
Leaves and grass swing and dance in the wind as if performing a ritual.
Staring out, he toys with the ring hanging from his neck. It's nothing more than an old rope holding up a plain golden ring. He keeps it close.
The frigid wooden floor now feels warm beneath his feet.
"Isaac!"
Wood creaking underneath, he searches his room for something to wear. He carefully steps over a white ball of fluff and nearly slips on a piece of clothing. He grabs the first thing he sees—a white long sleeve that's a little too big on him.
"Isaac!"
"Almost done!" he shouts back, ruffling up his short black hair.
The door swings open, and a large wooden spoon zips through the air past his head. It hits the wall and clatters to the floor at his feet.
"What the—" He turns toward the open door and shouts into the kitchen, "Hey, watch it! You could've—"
A flash of silver enters the room. He ducks. A knife is now wedged deep into the wooden wall where his head just was.
He stares at it, tries to pull it free, but it won't budge. Shuddering, he backs away and heads toward the door.
"Breakfast is ready!"
"Sure am glad I'm still alive to eat it."
Walking through the door, he shuts his eyes as he's greeted by the brightness of his mother's voice.
She's cutting up vegetables and sorting meat and eggs onto a plate.
Isaac squints. "How did she get here before me?" he asks, scratching his head.
She doesn't respond. Instead, she tosses a piece of bacon on the floor for the dog to eat.
"That's coming off your plate, kid," she says, turning around.
Isaac sits down across from an empty seat.
Looking down, he notices the dog is now by his feet. He smiles.
Looking back up, he watches as his plate is loaded with a lot more green than he'd hoped for.
He lowers his head and rests his chin on his arm.
Staring at the empty seat in front of him, he pokes at his food.
His mother turns back around to load another plate.
"Come on now, eat up. You've got quite a long day ahead of you," she says softly.
"Yeah, yeah, I know."
Isaac expertly tosses the greens under the table for his dog to eat—a technique he's been perfecting for a couple of weeks now.
He begins scarfing down the real food as she turns back around. She sets down another full plate across from Isaac and sits next to him, a mug of coffee in her hand.
"Wow, you got through those veggies pretty fast. You sure you don't want more?"
Isaac begins choking on his food and subtly glances down at the dog.
"No—I think I'm full."
"What? You sure?" She's already halfway off her chair.
Isaac finally clears his throat and nods.
She stares at him, then shrugs.
"Guess he never really liked them too much either."
A knock is heard at the door.
She sets her mug down, wipes her hands on her white cotton dress, and adjusts her thick brown hair.
She walks toward the door with a wide grin. Another knock rings through the room.
Slightly opening the door reveals a man much taller than her on the other side.
The man's fingers wrap around the edge of the door, gently pushing it open. He takes a step inside—the wooden floor sings his praises.
The clouds behind him part. Rays of light creep up behind him. A radiant crown forms around his head.
Draped in a black vestment, intricately detailed in white and gold patterns, the man balances himself on a cane.
A gray beard and a charming smile sit calmly on his face.
A small frown begins to grow on Sarah's.
Behind her, Isaac gets up from the table, furrowing his brow—slightly annoyed.
"Hello."
The man's voice booms, reaching every crevice of the house.
He's speaking softly, but his presence is felt everywhere.
He looks down at the woman in front of him.
"Good morning, Sarah. Devin'Him bless you."
The room feels brighter, as if the man commanded the sun itself.
Sarah snaps out of it and returns his cheerfulness.
Smiling and bowing toward him, her hair hanging down to her waist, she straightens.
"Always a pleasure to see you this early in the morning."
She motions toward the leftovers on the table, now half-covered in slobber.
"Would you like anything?"
The man's eyes dart around the room. He waves a hand dismissively.
"Does the shepherd eat before his flock?"
He smiles and makes his way past Sarah and Isaac, disappearing into the boy's room.
Sarah looks at her son. He shrugs.
A faint chuckle can be heard from the bedroom, and the cane begins clanging again as he returns.
He stops beside Isaac and turns his head toward him.
Placing a gentle hand on the boy's head, he squeezes firmly.
"You be good now," he says, still chuckling.
He makes his way to the front door.
"You folks be well. I have a couple more rounds to do.
May He be in your graces."
He hobbles out the front door on his cane.
Isaac walks up beside his mother and sticks his tongue out at the man as he leaves.
She smacks him lightly on the back of the head.
"You know, you ought to be more respectful to Gaius, he—"
"Yeah, yeah, I know, I know."
Isaac walks toward the door, rubbing the back of his head. Then he turns back, walks up to his mother, and tiptoes to kiss her on the cheek.
"Thanks for breakfast. Love you, Mom."
He walks out, leaving the door open behind him.
Sarah lets out a sigh, then turns to face the dog.
She kneels, petting it and running her fingers through its white, curly fur.
"You should go with him, Java. Keep an eye out for me, alright?"
Java stands up straight, chest high in the air, saluting like a fluffy little soldier.
Then he rushes out the door to catch up with Isaac.
Smiling, Sarah shuts the door and sits down across from the untouched plate of food.
She rests her cheek on her fist and twirls her hair in silence.
Sarah watches as the gray clouds disappear.
Light pours in through the kitchen windows and pools into the empty seat in front of her.
The Sun is finally out.
But the rain isn't through just yet.
Not a few steps from the door, Isaac is stopped again—
this time, by a friendlier face.
She stands on the dirt path ahead of him, surrounded by lush green trees and overgrown bushes.
A soft breeze passes through, swaying her hair in the wind.
"Good morning. May Devin'Him bless you," the girl says shyly, turning just enough to show off her new dress.
Isaac's expression softens.
"Hey."
He looks at her.
Isabelle thinks he's studying her—closely.
His eyes flick from her curly black bangs, twirled nervously around one finger, to the simple black dress she's clearly proud of, then up to her flushed face.
Her cheeks bloom red.
She shifts her weight side to side—almost like she's dancing just to stand still.
Seconds stretch.
She's barely holding it together.
Finally, Isaac squints and points downward.
"So, uh… what's with the doll?"
He tilts his head. "Aren't you a little too old for that?"
Then, with a smirk:
"It's kind of creepy, don't you think, Isabelle?"
Her right eye twitches. Just for a moment.
"Never mind the doll," she snaps, forcing her smile back into place. "What do you think of my—"
She's cut off by barking in the distance.
Java!
Isaac turns just in time to embrace his dog mid-sprint.
Isabelle gives the dog a death stare.
The dog stares right back.
The air tenses.
The hair on Isaac's neck stands up.
He turns.
"So you were saying—?"
"Let's go," Isabelle cuts him off, already walking down the path.
Isaac looks at Java and shrugs.
Maybe he said something he shouldn't have?
He follows behind her.
Along the winding path, the entire village comes into view.
The houses dotting the hillside all follow the same architectural philosophy: simple and efficient.
Each one is built from the same dark pine trees that grow in the forest around them.
Box-shaped. Identical window placements. Matching front lawns.
It's eerie how similar they are—like someone carved the soul out of them and copied the shell.
At the center of it all sits a circular clearing.
Benches and lampposts are spaced equidistant, like they were measured with a compass.
Beyond the houses, a path curves uphill, leading to a flight of stone steps and the town's church—
which also doubles as its government building.
"So is it just gonna be us three today?" Isabelle asks, slowing down to walk beside Isaac.
"I don't think so," he replies. "We've got one more stop before we hit the shopkeep."
He stops in front of the house to their right.
From inside, a voice calls out—
"I'm heading out now!"
Silence.
"I said I'm heading out now!"
Still nothing.
The front door slams open.
A boy bursts out—red, curly hair wild and windblown.
His black cotton shirt is loose and only half-tucked.
His white pants are smudged with dirt near the ankle.
Isabelle mutters something under her breath.
He walks up to Isaac and fist-bumps him, then crouches to feed Java a handful of unidentifiable meat.
"I was planning on eating that," he says to the dog, "but you're just so damn cute."
He straightens up and turns to Isabelle.
Crossing his right leg over the left, Ian places a hand on his chest and extends the other dramatically.
"Devin'Him bless your heavenly soul," he intones, bowing. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
He nearly breaks character halfway through.
Isabelle just nods. "Ian."
Ian glances at Isaac. Then at the road ahead.
Without a word, the two boys take off sprinting.
Isabelle sighs.
"They're always leaving me behind," she mutters, glancing down at Java.
The dog lets out a soft huff and limps forward. She follows at his pace.
It doesn't take long before the shop comes into view.
A little girl sits on the bench outside, legs swinging, face tilted toward the trees.
Her skin is pale. Her hair is tied into two long pigtails, each with a bow.
As the group approaches, she shifts her gaze to a line of ants marching under her feet.
By the time she looks up, Isabelle is already leaning over her, curls framing her smile.
From behind her back, she pulls out a doll.
Black button eyes.
Brown yarn hair.
A red dress, crooked at the hem but carefully stitched.
The girl gasps, jumps off the bench, and wraps her arms around Isabelle's leg.
"See?" Isabelle says gently. "Now you'll have a friend while I'm gone, Lily."
From the top of the steps, Isaac watches the whole thing.
He lingers for a second longer, then disappears into the shop behind Ian.
Inside, the shopkeeper looked up from his book. Then looked back down.
The boys approached the counter and waited.
He looked up again—still there. He sighed and went back to reading, muttering under his breath.
Ian cleared his throat, loudly.
He didn't move.
Same book. Same slouched posture. Same spot as always.
Then—
BANG. BANG. BANG.
Isaac slapped the counter three times.
"Hey, old man!"
The shopkeeper finally looked up.
He stared at them, expression unreadable—then gave a faint smile.
"Oh. It's you two."
He scratched his chin. "Sorry, didn't see you there."
He stood, leaving his book on the stool, and shuffled forward.
Placing both hands on the counter, he leaned in slightly.
"So. What can I do for you?"
"It's our turn to bring around the supplies again," Isaac said flatly.
Jack grunted.
"Still don't get why they make brats do this."
"What was that?" Ian shot back, rolling up one sleeve to show the barest hint of a bicep. "You got something to say, gramps?"
Jack chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.
"C'mon now, I know I'm graying, but I'm only forty."
He handed them a folded sheet of paper.
"Here. Today's route."
They scanned it.
Only three stops.
Three was a good day.
The door creaked open. Isabelle stepped in, Lily cradled against her shoulder.
"Devin'Him be with you! Good morning, Jack!"
Jack's entire demeanor changed. His voice went soft, goofy.
"There's my little princess," he cooed as Lily ran into his arms. "Aww, you're too cute, you know that?"
He rubbed his cheek against hers and gave her a kiss on the forehead.
"And what's this?" he asked, noticing the doll.
"I figured she wouldn't mind a new toy to play with," Isabelle said, hands folded behind her back, eyes glancing around the shop. "There's not too many kids her age around here."
Jack rose and placed a hand gently on Isabelle's shoulder.
"Thank you," he said, voice quieter now. "Really"
"Maria! Come down here!" Jack called toward the back of the house.
Then to the kids: "Let me get y'all something to eat before you head out."
They all shook their heads immediately—more from fear than courtesy.
"I already ate," Isaac said.
"I'm on a diet," Isabelle added.
"I'm, uh… I'm—" Ian looked around, panicked, then made a break for the door.
He didn't get far—Jack grabbed him by the collar and dragged him around the corner.
"You too," Jack said to Isabelle, motioning to the table with a nod. She hesitated. He stared. She sat.
"Nobody says a damn word," Jack muttered, looming behind them. "Her cooking's good. You understand me?"
He turned to his daughter. "You can be my little security guard, alright? Make sure they eat everything."
He handed her a tiny, terrifying wooden spoon.
Lilly stood proudly with the spoon in hand, squinting.
"I'm watching you..." she said, then giggled.
Ian and Isabelle exchanged terrified glances as they picked up their utensils. Their hands shook.
Soon, Maria entered the room beaming, carrying two plates.
She set them down lovingly.
The food looked back at them.
Unidentifiable. Shimmering. Alive?
Ian and Isabelle gulped.
Maria took their stunned silence as reverence. Her eyes welled with joy.
"You kids are so sweet... Thank you for being so open-hearted!"
WAP-WAP-WAP.
Lilly slammed her spoon on the table, cupped her hands around her mouth, and let out a battle cry:
"WOO WOO WOO WOO!!"
"Bottoms up," Ian said, defeated.
He took a bite.
Then instantly collapsed, head bouncing off the edge of the table with a loud THUNK.
He twitched on the floor, foaming slightly.
"IAN!!" Isabelle screamed, reaching toward him.
She froze. Maria was watching.
Maria's lip quivered.
"Does... does he not like it?"
She sniffled. "I'm such a screwup. I'm worthless. I ruin everything—"
Lilly narrowed her eyes and handed the wooden spoon to Isabelle.
Jack's voice echoed in her head.
Isabelle snapped to attention.
"No, ma'am!" she blurted. "It's not that at all!"
Maria peeked through her fingers. "It's not?"
"No! No. He just—uh—he loves it. That's why he's... dancing. On the floor. See?"
She pointed to Ian, who was now spasming beside her foot.
Without breaking eye contact, she coughed and kicked him in the head. He stopped moving.
"Sorry about that," she said, straightening her dress. "Happy reaction."
Maria sniffled. "Oh... oh, okay. That's such a relief."
She turned to Isabelle, smiling. "Now you try."
Isabelle froze. She tugged at her collar. Sweat trickled down her temple.
Maria stepped closer. Hands clasped. Eyes unblinking.
Isabelle's fork trembled in her hand.
"Oh, um—you're waiting for me?" she laughed nervously.
Maria nodded.
"Well..." Isabelle said, eyes darting for escape. "Cheers."
She took one bite.
Her face twisted. She turned pale.
Then she vomited violently onto the plate.
It actually looked better now.
"Oh God—I'm so sorry," she choked, more pouring from her mouth. "I've been a litt—BWAGHH—"
She keeled over, landing face-to-face with Ian.
Both of them laid there, twitching.
Lilly stood between their bodies, clapping and cheering.
Maria picked her up, hugged her tight, and bowed toward the fallen duo.
"They must've loved it," she said, tears of pride filling her eyes. "I really did that."
The door creaked open.
Jack walked in, surveyed the carnage, and gave his daughter a proud nod.
She raised her spoon high, victorious.
He picked up the supply crates from the far corner and walked back outside.
"Y'all're good to go," he told Isaac, handing him a small package.
Jack didn't say what it was.
He just smiled.
"This is for you three. Just some extra food," Jack said, sliding a small package across the counter.
He paused, then muttered, "Thanks for your help. I guess."
"Oh yeah?" Isaac leaned in, hand to his ear. "What was that? Couldn't hear ya, gramps."
"Don't try me, you little punk."
Isaac smirked—right as the door burst open.
Ian and Isabelle stumbled in like they'd just come back from war.
"The hell happened to you two?" Isaac asked.
Neither of them answered.
They walked past him in silence, grabbed their boxes from the counter, and headed for the door.
Isaac gave Jack a quick nod and jogged to catch up.
Just as he reached for the doorknob—
"JACK!"
Maria's scream rang out from the kitchen.
In a flash, a blur shot past them and out the door.
Maria followed, waving a plate over her head.
"GET BACK HERE!"
Then: silence.
Until—
Tap... tap... tap...
Lilly emerged from the kitchen.
Dragging her wooden spoon against the wall, she tapped it in slow, deliberate intervals. The sound echoed across the shop.
She stopped in front of them.
Everyone froze.
Smacking the spoon against her palm, she narrowed her eyes.
"Rawwwrr."
She charged.
The trio bolted down the steps.
Isaac scooped Java up at the base and kept running.
They didn't stop until their lungs begged them to.
Gasping for air, Isaac finally set Java down. Even she was panting.
Isaac bent over, hands on his knees.
"And why," he huffed, "are you so tired?"
He looked at Java.
"Stupid mutt"
Java starts digging furiously in the dirt, flinging it straight into Isaac's face.
"Hey!" he yells, stumbling after her.
He makes it about five steps before collapsing at Ian's feet like a ragdoll, breathless.
Flat on his back, he stares up at the sky. A breeze cuts through the trees.
"I saw Devin''Him Himself in there," Ian wheezes, eyes glazed over.
Not far off, Isabelle rolls onto her side, inching closer to Isaac. Her hand grazes his—it's warm. Solid. Like being wrapped in a quilt on a snowed-in morning. Like hot chocolate by the fire. Like—
Furry?
Java wedges herself squarely between the two, locking eyes with Isabelle as she claims Isaac's side with smug loyalty.
Isaac picks her up, kisses her forehead, and rises to his feet with a sigh. He dusts himself off, turns to Ian, and reaches out a hand.
Ian takes it.
No hesitation.
No hesitation.
Isabelle's heart swells. She watches the scene like a prophecy fulfilled. Isaac would turn to her next, his hand extended like a prince's—gentlemanly, sincere, warm. She closes her eyes in anticipation, face glowing.
She stretches dramatically in place, rolling back and forth like a cat, hand delicately poised midair.
"Okay Isaac…" she says softly. "I'm ready to go now."
Silence.
A second passes.
Another.
She opens one eye.
Isaac and Ian are already ten feet down the road, deep in conversation.
He finally turns around and squints.
"…Why are you stretching like that?"
She freezes.
Isaac shrugs. "Come on, Belle. Stop playing around. Let's go."
He turns back around and keeps walking.
There's a full second of stunned silence.
Then Isabelle clenches her fist and beams.
Let's go.
He called me Belle.
She scrambles to her feet, brushing off her dress, rolling her eyes like it's all nothing.
"Yeah yeah, I'm coming."
Back on their feet, they checked the delivery list.
"First house is yours," Isaac said, glancing at Isabelle.
She didn't respond—just pointed ahead.
They were already in view of her house. The sprint from Jack's had taken them most of the way.
As they walked up the steps, it became clear—even though every house looked the same, somehow this one felt like hers.
Isabelle knocked. The door creaked open.
"You're back already?" her father said with a warm grin, opening his arms.
Then he spotted the boys behind her.
Ian, digging in his nose and flicking something onto the porch.
Isaac, swatting at Java as she tried to eat his pant leg.
George's smile faded.
With a heavy sigh, he motioned them in.
As Ian entered, he fished into his pockets and pulled out something that may have once been meat.
"I was planning to eat this myself but—"
"I'm on a diet," George blurted, sidestepping the offer like it was poison.
Ian shrugged and wandered in, setting his box on the table before slumping into a corner chair like a punished child.
Isaac reached the door last and extended a hand. George raised a brow, impressed.
"About time you showed some respect," he muttered.
They shook.
A wet squelch.
George's face shifted. Slowly, he looked at his hand—dripping with dog saliva and whatever else Java had tracked through the forest.
His jaw clenched.
"You little—"
He roared and lunged, but Isaac was already laughing, halfway down the stairs.
"GRRR—get back here you little shit!"
The door slammed open behind him.
Marrible stepped out, arms crossed.
"What's going on out here?"
"Hi Ms. Marrible," Ian called from inside, politely waving from the corner.
"Hi, Ian," she said with a smile, wagging her fingers. "Go get George before he kills that boy."
Outside, George had Isaac by the collar.
Java leapt.
Her teeth found his shin and he howled, dropping Isaac instantly. The boy hit the ground running, circling him in taunts while the man limped in angry confusion.
Inside, Isabelle leaned against the doorframe.
"We just came to drop this off, Mom," she said, setting the box down. "Where's Anabelle?"
"She got promoted." Marrible chuckled as George tripped and faceplanted outside.
"Higher rank in the church. Her ceremony's tonight."
"Oh."
"She'll visit," Marrible said, brushing Isabelle's hair with one hand. She kissed the top of her head. "Don't worry, sweetheart."
She carried the supplies to the back, humming softly.
Isabelle stepped outside with Ian behind her. She handed him her box, then knelt next to her father—still gasping on the lawn.
She kissed his forehead.
"Love you, Dad."
"Love you… too, sweetheart," he wheezed.
Ian and Isabelle caught up to Isaac and Java at the end of the block.
Isaac kept walking ahead.
Ian lingered for a moment.
Behind him, he watched Marrible walk outside to help George to his feet.
They laughed together as she brushed the dust off his shirt.
Ian smiled to himself—just barely.
Then walked on.
They hear it before they see him: the drag of a cane, then the precise rhythm of its tap—tap—tap—growing closer behind them.
Turning, the three freeze.
Gaius emerges from the bend in the road.
The sun catches on his jeweled rings—ruby and emerald—glinting like twin embers on the hand gripping his cane. His white robes brush the ground. Though old, he walks with the force of a man who's never once needed help.
"Didn't expect company on this path," he says.
His voice is calm but slices the silence like a knife.
"Devin'Him be with you."
They don't respond.
Gaius waves his free hand.
"Relax, relax. Just an old man stretching his legs."
Isaac narrows his eyes. "Aren't you supposed to be up at the church?"
"That old stone box?" Gaius chuckles, stepping closer. "You'll find more fresh air and truth in the woods than in any sanctuary."
He claps Isaac on the back—not hard, but firm enough to sting.
"You won't tell on me, will you?" he says with a grin that doesn't quite reach his eyes.
Isaac says nothing. He keeps walking.
Gaius turns to Isabelle. "Your sister is thriving. Anabelle's promotion reflects well on your whole family. I expect great things from you as well, my dear."
"T-thank you, sir—"
"Call me Gaius," he interrupts gently. "Titles are for men who need them."
She swallows. "Thank you, Gaius sir. It means a lot."
His gaze shifts to Ian, who's struggling to adjust a heavy box on his shoulder.
"That looks too much for you."
"I've got it," Ian insists, trying to stand taller.
But Gaius takes the box anyway—effortlessly—hauling it over one shoulder while still balancing his cane.
"Pride's a heavy burden," he mutters. "No shame in letting it go."
They walk in silence.
At some point, Java darts off into the trees. The air feels heavier now. The path darker.
Then:
"Isaac."
The name drops like a stone.
Isaac doesn't turn. "Yes?"
"You've found good company."
A long pause.
"Try to keep it."
Gaius stops. They stop.
"I suppose this is where I leave you."
He hands the box back to Ian with one hand, resting the cane in the other.
"May Devin'Him be with you three."
He winks—but there's something lifeless behind it.
Then he steps into the evergreen shade, swallowed by the forest. His cane continues tapping against the earth, fading slowly, like a melody they weren't meant to remember.
Isaac finally breathes out.
They turn back to the road ahead.
Their next stop awaits.
It belonged to your mother," she continued. "Her husband gave it to her when they were much younger." She took a long pause. "I've been holding on to it so I would never forget her. Nowadays, I can't remember anything. The days smear together and people's faces begin to fade away. I can't even recognize my own reflection sometimes." She laughed softly, looking at the ground. "Sometimes I can't even recall my own name. It's as if there's this noise corrupting everything—this filter of static encasing my brain."
She paused again, taking a deep breath.
"I can feel my time is coming, so I won't be needing this anymore. I can hear their voices calling out to me, and I can't help but want to be united with them one more time. Every day, they're just a little clearer than before.
Take this and give it to someone you love. Someone you truly care for and want to remember. Hold them dear and never forget. Never forget the memories you created. Never let their souls fade away.
And don't worry—I'll never forget my dear old grandson. I'll always love you, Jacob. You're all I have left."
Isaac's eyes glazed over, and he felt a lump in his throat. "Yeah. I love you too, Gran-Gran. I love you too."
He hugged her one more time, and the group took their leave.
Outside, Isabelle got on her knees and whispered a light prayer. Ian sat on the steps, staring into the forest. Isaac stood on the road, staring into the distance. Isabelle walked up to him and hugged him from behind.
"Are you gonna be alright?" she asked, worried.
Isaac gripped the diamond ring tightly.
"Yeah."