With the bodies of our former neighbors stored away and glyphs carved to ensure the ice would not melt before we returned, Dad and I left the grim blood-stained church behind. Very little of the surrounding town remained standing, so, with heavy footsteps, Dad walked down the once-bustling streets to see what remained of our home.

We could have flown and reached the building in just a few seconds but Dad didn’t do that. Each step was slow and lethargic. I could tell he didn’t want to see this, even still, dad didn’t turn away.

All too soon we arrived at the top of the hill. My first thoughts were not of the building, but instead, remorse that the garden was gone, choked out by blood-red thorns. For so many years that little garden was my entire world. It was as far as I could go from the house without collapsing from exhaustion. The flowers blooming in the spring were the only bursts of color in an otherwise monotone existence. For hours I would stare out my window wishing I be out there instead. Now, there was nothing left.

Some of the house still remained though. A large hole had been blasted through the roof and all of the windows were cracked or broken but at least the walls still stood. It was a small point of joy in the otherwise overwhelming sorrow that followed our every step through this place. In a way, it felt as if that house represented everything we had been through. It was broken and damaged but not beaten. Despite everything that happened around it, our house still stood tall.

Dad was far less optimistic about the sight of the house in ruins. He let out a sad sigh as he placed his hand on the front door. “This is the second time I have lost my home, both to the ravages of war. As I child I was too weak to do anything but watch as everything burned and now that I finally have the power to do something, I still was not here to protect it.”

I reached out to my dad, careful this time to hold onto his sleeve rather than his hand just in case. “We will rebuild it. So long as the four of us are still together, we can always make a new one.”

“I know,” Dad replied with a resolute nod, “It doesn’t make it any easier though.”

“Maybe there is still something left to salvage,” I said, forcing my best innocent smile. I didn’t feel like smiling either. I wanted something to punch… to burn but I knew it was what Dad need to see. So long as I didn’t give in to my negative emotions and remained cheerful, maybe Dad would also brighten up.

“Maybe,” Dad mumbled with a little hope, “Most of the structure seems to be intact, maybe my study is too.”

Dad pushed open the door. The hinges had always creaked in the past but this time it seemed especially loud. Past the door was a dim and dusty room. Very little light made it past the blood mist at the best of times but the darkness was especially pronounced when entering a place that had once been so bright and cheerful.

The damp conditions of the mist left the furniture molded and smelling of rot. Anything made of fabric was ruined beyond repair. The wood walls almost seemed to have been eaten away by the air itself, covered in pot marks much like corroded metal.

Most eye-catching in the house, however, was the large hole in the roof along with the giant boulder sitting in the center of the entryway. It appeared to have crashed through both the ceiling and the floorboards of the rooms above before crashing into the center of the room. Everything around it was smashed into splinters without exception. I could only imagine the amount of force required to throw such a massive piece of rock and for it to land in such a way. It had to have been done by one of the Demons, or at the least a very strong Alpha.

Dad moved through the ruins of the house with his eyes half closed. His hand brushed along familiar objects as he remembered how they had been before. The sight of it tore at my heart. I wanted nothing more than to leave this place but I remained for his sake. I followed behind dad as he made his way past the furniture and up the stairs to his study.

I remembered when I was first reborn and had snuck in here only to immediately get caught by Charly after nearly falling off a chair while trying to reach a book. Chuckling at the memory I turned my gaze to the shelf on the wall. Left unprotected in the damp air, the books Charly used to carry everywhere were now rotted beyond recognition. I felt a small pain in my chest when I saw degraded remains.

Dad sighed as well when he saw the books but he moved past them without looking back. I watched curiously as he bent down behind his desk and started fiddling with the knobs on one of the drawers. He turned the knob twice to the left and three times to the right and a small click echoed through the study. To my surprise, the bottom of the desk fell out, revealing several books tightly wrapped in leather bindings.

“What is that?” I asked, leaning over curiously.

“Books of glyphs,” Dad replied. He had a satisfied smile on his face when he saw the books were still in good condition thanks to being sealed in the desk. “While I brought my best combat glyphs with me when we rushed to rescue you, I didn’t grab everything. I never thought I would have to. These books contain my records from a lifetime of research and study. Complicated glyphs can be comprised of thousands or even tens of thousands of lines. It is impossible for any normal person to memorize all of it. I have made do without these but if I had just stopped to grab them before we left, our travels would have been so much easier.”

“Are these really that strong?” I asked as I thumbed through the pages of one of the books. I had learned much of glyphs in recent months but the runes in these books were more complicated than even some of the war glyphs I had seen my dad create.

Dad thumped his chin in thought. “Not really strong, no. Most of these glyphs have rather niche uses with rather limited battle applications. For example, this one is used to create a stable tunnel underground while the one next on the next page is used to mask your scent. They don’t directly help in a battle but I can think of several times when different glyphs would have come in handy.”

I nodded in understanding. Dad had mostly used combat glyphs up until now. It was what he was skilled at so it made sense but glyphs were capable of much more than simply hitting things hard. As Aurielle, I had seen entire cities run by glyphs. Their versatility was unparalleled, only limited by the imagination of the one designing them.

Dad closed the book happily. “With these in my possession, I will not have to create and design an entire new glyph from scratch every time something happens. I should be able to find a solution to even the most absurd problems.”

I felt a weight lift off my shoulders as I saw the smile on Dad’s face. It was a relief to see him acting normal again, even if it was only for the moment. I could not help but smile in turn, not a forced smile but a real one. This is how Dad should be, not succumbing to regrets or doubt but full of confidence and fighting spirit.

While rewrapping the books in the wax-covered leather that kept them safe, Dad looked around the room. “I am going to search for any other mementos I can find while we’re here. Your mother would kill me if she found out I flew all the way back to our house and only returned with my old books.”

Dad moved through the house with renewed purpose. He started collecting anything and everything that might have even the slightest sentimental value. I followed him at first but there was only so long I could watch him rummage through draws of junk before I got bored.

I considered looking around my old room to see if anything survived but it was pointless. The boulder that crashed through the house hadn’t left anything of mine untouched. It was almost as if someone had purposefully sent it through my room just to spite me, and knowing that Irene was with the Demons when they first spread across this land, they might have.

Instead, I found myself wandering through the remains of the garden. In the past, Mom had always taken immaculate care of the plants here but you wouldn’t know it seeing them now. Thick thorned vines wrapped around dead trees and covered the ground like a carpet. The once bright flowers were now poisonous stems stook straight up like little knives. Green grass had turned black and grabbed at my feet as I walked.

Unable to contain the emotions that had been welling up inside me from the moment we returned to this town, flames erupted around me, burning away the tainted plants. With each step, the flames spread to another patch of the garden. I would wipe it all clean until nothing remained.

I walked through the garden methodically, trying to remember what was instead of the corruption it had become. Step by step, flames spread. I could have burned it all at once but I wanted to ignite each plant individually. I wanted to see them burn away one by one.

However, as I burned the garden, I saw something that made me pause. It was a small spot of blue, tinier than my smallest fingernail but in the sea of red and black, it stood out like the bright light of a rising sun.

Full of curiosity, I extinguished my fire and walked over to the source of the azure color that had caught my eye. It was a tiny flower, a weed really. Anywhere else it would be a completely mundane and forgettable plant that countless people would pass by without even noticing but here, in the deepest depths of the blood mist?

This was not some rare herb or magical plant. No, it was a mundane little weed, nothing more, but it was this mundanity that made it so special. When exposed to the corruption of the blood mist, all living things, no matter how small, were given only two choices. Either they mutate or they die. Only incredibly strong creatures like realm Guardians could ignore the blood mist without succumbing to its effects. However, rarely, very rarely an ordinary creature or plant would appear that could do the same. The chances of this happening were said to be one in ten trillion. These odds were astronomical but with the number of plants and bugs that covered the entirety of a planet, it was not exactly rare or valuable.

I crouched down and poked the little flower with my finger. “You won a lottery for the ages, didn’t you little guy?”

Seeing the little flower bend slightly at my touch, I had the sudden urge to take the flower with me. It was a silly, childish impulse. I could pick up a weed like this anywhere. However, after seeing the last remnant of Mom’s garden struggling to grow despite the odds, I could not just leave it.

Digging out the flower with more care than I had shown at any point since my strength increased, I transplanted it into a ceramic bowl that survived the destruction of our house. Looking at the little flower in its pot, it felt like all the negative emotions that had been overwhelming me these past few days were melting away. If this mundane little flower could survive the worst of the Demon’s wrath, why couldn’t I?

I held my new plant proudly as I returned to the house. Dad was still busy digging through old possessions so I made myself comfortable on one of the few intact chairs that didn’t have mold growing on it. Time dragged on and I felt my eyelids grow heavy. I yawned as my body relaxed. Maybe it was my imagination but even the moldy stench that filled the house did not smell that bad anymore. Instead, it seemed comfortable…

I was startled out of the world of dreams when I heard something thud to the floor. Through half-laden eyelids, I saw Dad lying there. He had a smile on his face as he slept. A loud snore echoed through the house.

“Dad looks so comfortable,” I mumbled in a groggy voice. My entire body felt as tired as a newborn kitten. Even with the warning bells ringing in my head, I barely find the strength to keep my eyes open. Surely a small little nap wouldn’t hurt.

My eyes fluttered on the edge of falling asleep when something else began to move in the house. Moldy-smelling smoke began to rise from the boulder in the center of the room as two blood-red eyes cracked open on its seamless surface.