บท 12: Chapter 12: Divine Tears

Aiden squeezed his eyes shut, clamping his hands over his ears for a moment, desperately trying to block out the haunting echoes of the past and the overwhelming guilt.

It felt like a dam had broken, unleashing a torrent of memories so raw and brutal he couldn't bear them.

But then, as abruptly as it began, the deluge stopped. Aiden opened his eyes, a strange sense of emptiness washing over him.

He blinked, the forest around him coming back into focus. The world seemed muted, drained of color. His heart hammered a frantic rhythm against his ribs, but he felt strangely detached, as if encased in a thick layer of emotional gauze.

He stood on shaky legs, and looked around him.

Astonishingly, the memory of the grieving parents, the raw pain in their cries, was gone. It was as if his mind had slammed a shut door on those moments, leaving him with a sterile recollection of the fight itself.

He only remembered the initial fight, the desperate struggle for survival that had led him to kill the Three-Tailed Monkey. The darker truth, the act that had triggered the buried memories, was conveniently forgotten.

Perhaps, a more sinister part of him reasoned, there were other, even more disturbing memories his mind was desperately trying to suppress.

Shaken but strangely detached, Aiden decided to take cover for a few hours. Encountering the terrifying creature that had let out the bone-chilling roar was the last thing he needed right now.

Moreover, he was physically and mentally drained, he needed a shelter to rest, the weight of his actions a heavy burden on his conscience, even if the specific details remained hidden from him.

Even the most experienced hunters back on Earth wouldn't hunt animals relentlessly. He was just a teenager, thrown into this strange world with no proper weapons. Only a fool would think he could keep going forever on a sudden surge of power. After all, these weren't your average creatures he was dealing with.

Aiden turned back, his feet finding the familiar path towards the giant tree. It was easy to spot the place where the emotion turmoil is almost negligible.

He walked on autopilot, lost in his thoughts, unguarded. If any creature attacked him now, he wouldn't stand a chance.

Luckily, the journey was peaceful. As the familiar, cavernous hollow in the giant tree came into view, Aiden practically lunged for it. He scrambled inside and sank down, wrapping his arms around his legs.

He wasn't just hiding from the dangers of this world, but from the turmoil within. He squeezed himself into the spacious hollow, a physical reflection of the tightness in his chest. Even though he couldn't quite remember the details, his mind seems exhausted.

Aiden was just a fifteen-year-old boy, and it was his time seeing the cruel world with eyes.

Back on Earth, he rarely went out with his parents. It wasn't that he disliked it, but crowds made him uncomfortable.

He felt like strangers wouldn't understand him, a feeling he couldn't explain. The only place he felt safe was curled up in his parents' laps, a refuge from the vast, cold world that seemed to misunderstand him.

Exhausted, Aiden closed his eyes, and the darkness inside the hollow seemed to seep into him. He was asleep.

"Papa," a small voice piped up, filled with innocent curiosity. "Will I ever see you, Mama, and my sister? Will I ever see this world?"

The man, his face etched with lines but still handsome, smiled and said while caressing little Aiden's head. "Of course, champ. You're strong, you're brave. There will come a day when you can explore everything. Let me tell you a story about the Divine Tears…"

Once upon a time, in a kingdom bathed in golden sunsets, lived a princess who shimmered like a polished gem. Her beauty was unmatched, a legend whispered in the wind. Yet, a hollowness echoed within her. Suitors flocked, drawn to her flawless exterior, but none saw beyond it.

One day, while venturing through the bustling marketplace, a rhythmic tapping drew her in. There, a sculptor, his face etched with quiet determination, knelt before a massive stone. Blindness cloaked his eyes, yet his hands danced across the rock, coaxing forth a magnificent griffin. The princess, mesmerized, forgot the world around her.

Day after day, she returned, drawn by the sculptor's artistry and a strange yearning she couldn't explain. The rhythmic clinking of chisel on stone became a soothing symphony, the sculptor's presence a comforting haven. One day, emboldened by a newfound courage, she spoke. "How can you create such wonder without sight?"

A gentle smile touched the sculptor's lips. "True beauty," he replied, his voice warm and rich, "resides not just in what the eyes perceive, but in the whispers of the soul." His words resonated deep within the princess, sparking a warmth that spread through her.

Their meetings became a cherished ritual. She'd describe the world in vibrant hues, her voice painting pictures for his unseen eyes. He, in turn, spoke of the stories his fingertips gleaned from the stone, his passion weaving magic in the air. In his presence, the princess felt seen for the first time, not just for her beauty, but for the strength and kindness that resided within.

One day, as the sculptor sculpted a final, delicate detail on his griffin, a heavy silence descended. "I must leave soon," he finally confessed, his voice laced with sorrow. The princess's heart plummeted. The thought of losing this connection, this bond that transcended sight, was unbearable.

"Wait," she pleaded, her voice trembling. "Promise you'll return." The sculptor turned, his sightless gaze seeming to meet hers. "If it is meant to be," he said, a hint of a smile gracing his lips, "our paths will cross again."

The princess waited by the sculptor's empty workspace, her heart a fragile flame flickering in the wind. Days bled into weeks, then months, then years. Yet, the blind sculptor never returned. The princess, consumed by a love that defied logic, clung to the hope of his return.

As time etched lines on her face, her beauty dimmed, but her love remained, a radiant ember in the ashes. One day, an old woman, frail but determined, stood before the sculptor's deserted workspace. Tears streamed down her wrinkled cheeks, each one transforming into a luminous pearl – the Divine Tears.

These tears, whispered legends, held not just the princess's love, but a profound truth.

And in a final act of unwavering devotion, the princess gently removed her own eyes, placing them upon the Griffin that the sculptor created. They lay there, forever vigilant, waiting for him to return, a silent vow of love that transcended sight and even time itself.

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