Leave quickly
You turned away and held your possessions close to your body. You walked quickly down the road you knew very well, toward the large hill where you were inducted into the Kyn Order. You would be safer there, surely.
You could hear yelling and screaming behind you, but the further you went, the quieter it was.
You climbed the stone steps to the chapel and hid yourself away inside it.
You were unsure if a fire would be safe inside the building, but the windows were broken and the ceiling was high. Most of the structure was made of stone. You decided that it was fine, there was no reason to worry. You made a fire pit by placing loose rocks in a circle.
It would have to do.
Every once in a while you thought you could hear crying and banging. You tried to tell yourself that it had nothing to do with you. Whatever was happening was beyond your control.
You were choosing to survive.
That’s what you told yourself.
You needed wood for the fire, so you walked out of the chapel with the hatchet. The sky was colored due to the impending sunset, but it was different. It was hazy and glowed with a strange light.
You walked toward the edge of the plateau toward the town. The smell of smoke was so intense that you instinctively covered your nose and mouth with your sleeve. The entire town was engulfed in flame so bright it fought against night itself.
How?
Why?
Was it a runaway fire from a kitchen or a blacksmith or a dropped oil lamp? Was it a raid? A fight?
You didn’t know.
You also realized, to your own guilt and horror, that there was no one you cared about enough to move you to act. Everyone you loved was already gone. There was no reason to run back into town. Who would you try to find? Why would risk yourself to save?
Even the chef and the young master were acquaintances. The shop keepers and the townspeople that just helped you get the things you needed to survive? You barely knew their names.
So, you watched the town burn to the ground, safely above it all.
Days went by.
You made the chapel your home. You made a chimney and covered the windows with straw mats. You revived the Kyn gardens and orchards which had become over-grown. You hunted rabbits and you read the same four books over and over again.
Weeks.
When you were bored, you fixed and cleaned things. When you were lonely, you made clay sculptures and wrote poetry.
Years.
You looked over the edge at the town almost every day. Year after year, nature continued to reclaim it until you could barely tell that the town ever existed.
Your isolation became a habit and you became frightened to leave. You became consumed with maintaining your home, your sacred place.
You thought, one day, someone would find you, maybe Kyn who had traveled away would come back as pilgrims and join you.
You were wrong.
You died alone.
The End
