Trial of Loss

The erratic movement of the forest stills around you. A silence more deafening than any sound smothers the trees, pressing in on every corner of your mind. Your thoughts soften, drifting weightless, like seaweed swaying in a tide too calm to resist. The path underfoot feels familiar. With each step, more so.

The trees twist into shapes you know; gnarled boughs now familiar oaks, standing where they had once shaded your childhood home. Beneath the dirt, the faint outlines of cobblestones emerge, a road you once walked every day. The air carries scents that claw at memory: your mother’s perfume, your grandmother’s bread, smoke from a winter hearth.

And then you see them.

Figures you thought forever lost. They are hazy at first, as though glimpsed through water, but as you walk, they sharpen. Shadows become faces. Faces become theirs.

They come closer. A woman hums; the same song that once drew you into sleep, its notes curling around your chest. Behind her, a figure whose gaze still carries the warmth you thought you’d never feel again. Another follows, then another, until you are surrounded. Their eyes are kind. Their hands tremble with longing.

"You’ve wandered enough,” one whispers, voice fraying with love.

"You chose right. Stay.” Another reaches out, lips quivering with a plea.

And then he comes.

Larger, more solid than the rest. His presence fills the silence. In his hands, a lantern. Its shell is rusted, cracked, fragile. But the glow is honey-colored, spilling warmth across your face, painting their eyes with gold.

"There is no need to struggle, child,” he says. "Come with us. You’ve earned your rest.”

The circle closes in. Hands stretch toward you, shaking, tender. Their touch is almost here. Their embrace is waiting.

And the warmth you once thought lost, is almost yours again.