Final Verdict

White.

Nothing else.

Then it thinned into blue.

Sky stretched overhead. Then the view drifted downward, slowly taking in the grassy field below. Green rolled outward in every direction, interrupted here and there by scattered trees.

Somewhere in the distance, a voice murmured beyond the reach of understanding.

“...rui.”

A blink.

“Warui.”

Warui opened his eyes beneath a tree. Wind whispered through the branches overhead, stirring the leaves and lifting strands of his coarse black hair, parted down the middle as it swept back from his face.

“Warui.”

Chena stood a few steps away. She wore a soft light pink linen blouse, lightly gathered at the neckline. A patterned belt cinched the long, flowing skirt at her waist. “I’m telling your mom you didn’t even help me pick any apples.” At her chest, a silver necklace ended in a small square pendant.

“Wait, no. I can get one right now.” He reached for an apple. His linen tunic hung loose, laced at the throat with the sleeves rolled.

“I’ve got enough.” Chena lifted a woven basket, apples crowding it nearly to the rim, then turned toward the path leading back to town. “Come on. I want to give these to our parents already.” Her hair was such a deep brown it nearly passed for black in the shade, though the sunlight brought out the warmer color woven through it.

Warui followed her into the orchard, where apple trees stood in loose rows amid thick green growth. A matching silver pendant shifted against his chest with each step.

“You’re so weird, you know that? Why were you zoning out like that?”

“Oh, the...”

Another breeze swept across the field from their right, sending long ripples through the grass and cool air through Warui’s hair. Beyond it, the trees swayed gently beneath the passing wind.

“The wind was calming.”

563

The town soon appeared at the end of the path, where a woman leaned against one of the fence posts near the entrance. The moment Warui spotted her, his step lightened into a skip before he broke into a jog.

“Mom!”

His mother pushed away from the fence. Behind her, timber houses lined the town, some rising two stories while others sat low beside adjoining farms and animal pens. A barn and workshop stood among them, with only sparse fieldstone breaking up the wood. “You two took your time.”

“It’s because someone didn’t help, Auntie.”

“Warui, you have to help Chena sometimes.”

“Sometimes?”

“I know, Mom.”

His mother stepped back toward the town. “Why don’t we eat the apples in the field?”

“Sure, Auntie.”

“I guess that’s nice.”

“Okay. Let me get us something to sit on. You two wait here.”

“Auntie, what about Uncle and my parents?”

Warui’s mother called back over her shoulder without breaking stride. “We’ll save some apples for them later, sweetheart.”

“Okay!” Once she was safely out of earshot, a knowing little smile crept across her face. “Your mom’s ‘sometimes’ means all the time.”

“Yeah, when it goes through your ears.”

“No, it does n—”

“Guys!” River came sprinting through the town entrance, blond hair thrown into disarray and urgency written across his face. “Guys!”

“What?”

“Hm?”

River reached them and immediately bent over, planting his hands on his knees while he tried to catch his breath. “I heard from your mom that you’re eating apples in the field.”

“We are.”

“Can I join? I didn’t have breakfast today.”

“Of course.”

“Yeah.”

“Yes! Grandma was too lazy to cook.”

Chena giggled.

Warui rubbed at his throat. “I’m actually a little thir—”

THOOM!

The world struck them.

A violent gust tore into the town.

Roofs ripped free.

Wood, stone, and shattered pieces of buildings exploded into the air.

For a fraction of a second, that was all.

Then came the cuts.

Sharp.

Precise.

Too fast.

Distorted lines tore through the town almost immediately after the blast, carving through buildings already buckling beneath the wind.

Walls split apart.

Structures collapsed.

The roar swallowed everything.

Something hit Warui hard enough to lift him from the ground. He slammed backward onto the path, pain flashing through him as he rolled onto his stomach.

Chena hit the ground nearby. River went down behind them, and the basket tore from Chena’s hand. Apples scattered across the path

Wind screamed around them.

His hair whipped across his eyes. Somewhere beside him, Chena’s hair lashed wildly in the gale.

Another wave of wind struck.

Warui’s arms shook as he dragged himself forward.

He reached out with his right hand.

The town blurred.

A blink.

His arm weakened beneath him.

The next blink came slower than the first.

Everything went black.

Warui opened his eyes.

A ceiling.

He stared at it, unable to make sense of what he was seeing. Then memory returned, and he instinctively pushed himself upright, only for his breath to catch, breaking into quick, uneven gasps. The room was dimly lit, its heavy timber beams standing dark against the shadows that filled the spacious interior.

To his right, people crowded the floor, children and adults alike. Some lay beneath blankets while others rested against the walls or huddled together in quiet conversation. A few pressed cloth to their wounds while others beside them did what they could to help. Chena lay asleep on her back beside him.

To his left.

More people.

Missing limbs.

River lay beside him, asleep on his back.

He scanned the crowd.

Once.

Again.

“Mom?”