The dawn was hot, but my tears were colder...

I held the family scythe on my left and my blade on my right. I gazed upon the ditch on the ground, the soon to be grave of my father. I took off the pendant from my neck. I stared at it. I did not know why, but somehow, I now hated the sight of this pendant. The aching, gut feeling was overwhelming my senses. Hatred melted away reason as I felt the area around my neck heat up. "Why...?" I murmured under the Sun's heat as I clenched the pendant tightly with my right hand.

I drove the scythe down into the hole I've made just above his grave. If anything could be his gravestone, it would be the same tool he used all his life. I sheathed my blade and laid it down beside me. I turned to my right and grabbed the shovel and bury my father for good. I kept quiet as the sound of the shovel and the dirt filled the sky. There wasn't much to think. Just some negativity flowing through my mind like a river stream. I constantly shook my head as I threw in more dirt.

Regret was all I could think of. How much I regretted coming back. How much I hated being his son. How much I hated myself for killing him. Maybe, if I could've reasoned it out, just maybe we both could've gotten out alive that night. Although, that very hope didn't exactly showed itself last night. Instead, we succumbed to our own grave actions.

I laughed at myself. Then, I felt tears well up on my eyes. "Dammit... DAMMIT!" I slammed the shovel unto the dirt, away from his tomb. He was now buried. I knelt down and gave off one last prayer to the sky. I prayed in silence.

For this would be the last moment family would experience.

I walked up and wrapped the pendant around the scythe's blade. I made sure it wouldn't break when I wrapped it, though. I took a step back and took in the sight before me. Then, it hit me. I almost forgot to write an epitaph. I went into the house and grabbed a considerably large piece of wood. I rummaged through the drawers to find father's carving knife. Then, slowly but surely, I carved out his name and one phrase. I went outside and took out the mallet and some nails.

I went to his grave and took out the scythe. I placed it down unto the ground, prepping it for nailing. Fortunately, the handle was thick enough for a whole nail to pass through. After four, maybe seven strikes, the epitaph was put firmly in place. I once again drove the scythe on the same spot above his grave.

Now, I took a step back. Taking in all of this great tragedy. On the epitaph, it said, "Althalos Von Zayne. From Roselia and Roxas" Then, I felt a tear drop from my face. It wasn't the first time I felt bad. I was accustomed to the feeling, of course. I didn't have my sunshine for several years. Dread in my heart was all I could feel, and father's cold attitude made it even worse. But, for this particular instance, everything, EVERYTHING I felt so far could not compare. Two, maybe five more teardrops fell from my face. Sorrow filled my heart, and it didn't stop. Not even when it was filled to the brim.

I stood up and whispered, "Farewell, dear father...". I looked around me. It was about time for a mid-day meal. Exhaustion and hunger seethed within me as I took my sword and swung it over my left shoulder. I looked at the small house. I was already old enough to look after myself. Although succumbing to a life of mediocrity and redundancy is something I do not intend to look forward to.

I laid down my sword beside the kitchen table and began picking whatever ingredients were available at the very moment. What I ended up with was a pretty good selection despite it's lack of quality. For now, these were the things I had to work with. I grabbed the flint and steel that my father was so conservative to use. Just by looking at it, I would guess that he never used this in his life. Ever. "Forgive me, father. Sometimes my ends justify my means." I said to myself as I lit the firewood under the brass pot.

I just can't help but wonder why the solemn atmosphere could drag on for so long. I know it's too early to ask why, but it just irritates me. Why does sorrow happen so frequently? Why must my life be so linear yet so tragic? A cold sweat ran at the side of my face as the very thought enveloped my mind.

I proceeded to search through the drawers again, only to find mother and father's personal stuff. Some letters that he once wrote to her, some relics, and a few chunks of crumpled parchment in between. I was shocked to not find mother's clothes at all. Was father too afraid of her memory? Memories hurt. That bit I know so well, but you can't truly forget her. You simply just can't. But what really caught my eye, though, was this really fresh letter. If you can smell the very ink that was used on the letter, then you'd know it was written not too long ago. This letter was found at the back of the most bottom drawer.

The reason why such a placement was done was beyond me, but it was a safer guess that what was written here must be kept secret. With no one to stop me, I began to read it. Although the writings are a mess, almost akin to gibberish mind you, I can barely make out the words.

The letter said:

"Dear Roxas,

Hi, son. If you are reading this, then you have triumphed over me. Triumphed? Wait... He doesn't mean...? I apologize. Even through this very letter, I wouldn't be able to forgive even myself for what I had done. This feels odd. Really, it does. I am writing this before I decided to kill you. What? So, he actually had intentions of ending my life then and there? Why!? I am his son! I am his only child! So, WHY!? Now, now, I am gone. there's no need to be angry all of a sudden. You are, after all, reading this letter. But what I can give you, however, is a proper explanation. Do you remember St. Paula's visit? Oh, father, don't remind me. Please, I have enough things to remind me of her as of now. Memories are painful. I hope you'd understand. She bore ill news. I was overcome with cowardice, such I did not have the fortitude to even tell my own son. The news she told me, was that my time was running short. Our curse, the curse that your grandfather gave our bloodline, was killing me. Every night since our last purging, I found myself coughing up blood every morning before sun rise. I knew I wasn't well. That's why I went to her in secret. She found out that the only way to set me free was for you to raise your blade against me. Right now, I couldn't believe what I was reading. Considering who my father was, a conservative one, it would seem that everything would make sense. But, did he actually wish to die by my own blade? I wanted to end my own suffering. Now, as you are reading this, you will now carry the same burden me and my father had carried all our lives. I am sorry, Roxas, but that is the curse of bearing the name of "Von Zayne".

With the entirety of my love, Althalos Von Zayne

Well, even after this letter, my forgiveness is now beyond my giving. I could never imagine my father being selfish. Ever. He's been as loving as my mother. To think he would just give me his own pain like that? How could I ever look at his grave the same way as I did a few minutes ago? And his parting gift? The full blunt of the curse. I would soon feel what it's like to have crystals grow on your back. Soon, that is.

I turned around and noticed the pot at a boil. I hurriedly opened each drawer again, hoping to find any sign of seasoning in this damn house. Luckily, there was a small bag of salt that was lying just beneath the table. More or less, it probably fell from all my rummaging. After slicing up a few vegetables after rinsing them with water, I took out some of the remaining firewood. This is mother's signature vegetable stew. With my sloppy movements and a lack for flavor in cooking works, I doubt I'll be able to recreate what my mother does with all her heart. Though there is absolutely no harm in trying, right? Except maybe the possibility of burning down my own house, but that's too farfetched.

Blowing on the dying fire, reigniting it allowed for a more controlled slow cook. That's what my mother told me anyways. She would always talk to me while I watch her cook this very dish. Her words fill my mind as I throw in ingredient after ingredient. Grabbing a wooden spoon, I took a first sip of my concoction. My eyes widened, this doesn't taste as bad as I imagined it would be. On another note, I am more surprised that I am still alive after tasting that mediocre stuff I call a stew.

After several minutes of slow cooking, add more firewood, blow on the pyre, throw in the last batch of ingredients and seasonings, then bring up to a boil. I did exactly as I remember her say it. Then, as if I were in St. Paula's place, smoke was filling the house following the boil. I absolutely did not remember this. At all. All I could remember was my mother's head above the boiling soup and taking in the food's aroma. However, even when the smoke was blinding, I could still smell it. It was right about done. Hastily, I ran towards the fire and began dowsing it with whatever liquid was nearby. And let me make it clear, there was no water left after I used it on the stew.

Well, I guess my meal is now a disaster. The smoke cleared after a while. If one were to look outside, one would guess that my house was burning. Luckily, nothing caught on fire. Except maybe the letters and papers that were incinerated as soon as the flames touched them. Overall, I'm just really glad that my food survived that mess of a session.

Grabbing a bowl, I poured in the stew. I have to admit, it does seem rather peculiar that I got the aroma down in one go. I lifted the small bowl in front of me and began sipping the hot contents.

Not too bad, for a first timer. Although it needs a little bit more salt. Which, I'll be honest, I am too exhausted to get up and put in a pinch right now. I shrugged then began wolfing down the stew as if it were nothing.

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I stayed in the house for the whole afternoon. I just sat down at the kitchen table, blatantly staring at the dishes that have been waiting a while to be washed. But somehow, after all that had happened, I just didn't feel like moving a muscle.

Everything went so fast, and happened so quickly that I didn't even have time to reflect on everything, sit down and think about what could've went right and how I could've achieved those.

I rushed everything.

I knew I was on a time limit. Even my father said his time was ending. But I didn't want it to end like this. Selfish parent, that's what he is. Everything after my encounter with Roger was, as I've said, fast. How I met that giant golem, my confrontation with a bear, how Nolva was at the wrong place at the wrong time, how I found St. Paula's Facility of Cleansing was burnt to a crisp, and how I fought father under the bright full moon in a field of blooming Dawnchasers.

It all happened so quickly. It all slipped by my fingers all so suddenly.

Then, the next thing I knew, I was sitting in our house. Waiting. Waiting for what? Even that I do not know. I don't know what to do next. It was like meeting a dead end after a long maze and realize that you can never go back.

Is this despair...?

The Sun was now setting, it's orange rays are splitting against the left over wheat from last season. I raise my right hand, catching the rays in futility. Light slipping past my fingers. The sunshine beamed at the dirty bandages as the blood stains glowed in accordance with the Sun's radiance. It's light was now shining on my utensils. I guess it was about time I decide to wash them. I went out of the house and went at the very back, where the inventory was. Just beside the big box was a pale. Not too big, but can hold enough water to last one day if managed right.

Walking down the same path to the same river, as always. This nostalgia is not quite what I expected it to be. One might think that the memories of the olden days would come flooding back like children to their parents. But no. It's not like that. All I could feel was the aching feeling of lost. That, and what accompanied it was the dread that this may be the last time I did this. I wasn't sure whether or not to trust this, but with the things that had happened and the situation I am currently in, what choice do I have?

Nothing.

But, just as Fate has given me time and time again, somehow like a kind master of a certain house, grants me one escape. If ever this was a maze, then Fate would've given me a rope for a way out. I stopped on my tracks. It only ever took me one second to realize how beautiful the sight before me was.

The setting Sun on the horizon, it's shine being absorbed by the Dawnchasers like morning dew giving the flower's petals a certain beautiful golden glow. It was unreal. I couldn't believe my own eyes, really. I put and bucket down and crossed the grass towards the field. I knelt over and delicately caressed one Dawnchaser. It's reflected light was all too perfect.

That's when I realize that I could start over again. Live a new life. I hurriedly ran over to the pale and sprinted towards the river.

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For hours, I searched my entire house. My house? If I were crazy enough to call this inheritance, then it would be the case. After all, if I'm going to start over, I might as well get whatever things they left for me.

Even if it is unintentional.

Anyways, after all that rummaging, what I was left was a messy house. Well, as messy as it could possibly get anyway. The last time this place was extremely messy was Christmas years ago. Ever since then, we celebrated Christmas less and less. I'm not actually sure what month it is. I remember telling Nolva that we're already in the middle of Fire month, but I'm pretty damn sure that that truly isn't the case. Well, whatever. Whatever gut feeling I have in me is no longer a valid reason for trust. If anything, I'd have to look at life with a slower approach.

Rash decisions can certainly spell doom, if not minded.

I finally found what I was looking for. I can't believe father would go through all that trouble to hide one box of Dawnchaser seeds. I mean, how badly does one need to hide something? Honestly I never could've guessed that he literally tore down the floor boards and buried the box underneath the house.

Are these things really worth protecting? I remember that there's a whole field in Paradise Prairie that is filled with them and nothing but the flowers. At least, that's what mother told me. I do hope to see that one day. Wherever it may be, I do hope it's beautiful.

Who am I kidding? Of course the field would be beautiful. It should.

I opened the box. There were still plenty of the seeds left. These were my ticket to a brand new life. And maybe, just maybe, I wouldn't have to draw this sword ever again.

Those who I known for for so long are now gone. There is only one thing left to do. I will honor their deaths and their sacrifices with my continued life.

This seed box was a blessing in disguise.

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Dinner last night was the same stew I made in noon. I was glad there was a bit left after my emotional crisis. I decided to once again search through my whole house. I knew it in my gut that I should've done the search last night, but I was overcome with fatigue and joy that I didn't even bother thinking about it until now.

It was now early Sun rise. The Dawnchasers on the open field were about as beautiful as any.

If there is a person in this continent who could match the beauty of these flowers, then please let me see her.

I couldn't sleep last night, though. I had too much to think.

I went out to the river. It was about time I washed my actual clothes. Luckily a few of father's clothes are still fresh. I'm a bit surprised, though. Father doing his own laundry isn't something I get to witness on a regular basis. Usually it would be me who would get up and clean them up for the both of us.

I wouldn't say him doing chores is a rare thing. The thing is, farming is sort of like a big chore. In it's own right. I mean, everyday you're tending to the fields like some sort of horrid automaton. Every single day of the year. Sure, there are some days that are merely for harvesting and waiting out Frost month, but most of the time it's just repetitive. So much repetition that it's not even funny anymore.

Even so, that's all through. None of that anymore. Although, with such tedium that it came at a steep cost. A costly subject that I was neither willing to pay nor was aware of the price. But, starting from now on, there was no need to look back and be gloomy. Today was a new beginning.

I went back to my house and got myself dressed in father's clothes. His stench is something I'll have to get used to from now on. I opened the lower most drawer beneath the bed and grabbed a coin purse. I caught what I now call my white robe near the door and headed out to Corona.

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The journey to Corona wasn't anything remarkable. A few changes here and there, slight details I may have caught on. Nevertheless, despite it being boring to some, I find walks alone fun. I understand how some people would think voyaging with someone or some people would drastically make the trip itself become more enjoyable. The time it would take from point A to point B would be shorter, time spent would be more memorable and every small talk, sight-seeing and everything else in between would become more and more special. I get it. But sometimes being alone in the right time in the right place can change everything. I've walked this path maybe a thousand times already. Assuredly, one would fall asleep immediately. The thoughts running through your head, the comfortable silence everything around you provides and the ever looming feeling of anticipation is what really gets my blood going.

As the sound of my sandals lightly kissing the ground repeatedly began to bore me, I raise my left ear, certain of what I heard in the distance. I ran up the same hill I used to ran up time and time again and there I was, overlooking the once destroyed Corona Village. Glad to see the sign is still intact after all this time.

I was greeted with normal faces as I approached the main plaza. Familiar faces here and there, but overall, pretty all right. I wonder if Roger and co. are still around and about. I'll just have to find out myself if Fate would provide me the opportunity.

I look around the plaza, quite confused as to where I'm going. Sometimes I stand in a certain spot, not being able to register a single thing that's around me. Basically, lose all of my senses for one second. Then, I remembered my plan. I opened the coin purse I got from that bottom drawer. I sat down on a bench near me and counted the curren inside. The purse actually had exactly one thousand curren.

Then I knew that this was already a great start.

I look around again, swearing to myself that I had seen that very booth before. Or was it a booth? Was it a shop? I don't really remember. I sometimes hate that my mind is always full of unnecessary junk that I find no use in whatsoever. I mean, I found out that dogs wag their tails when they're happy. I was told about this when I was five years of age by a very frill old man. It was in Corona, too. In the main plaza where everybody was celebrating some sort of festival. And here I am, can't even remember a shop I saw two months ago.

I try walking around the plaza, trying to at least get some glimpse of that shop. Despite this, however, I still find it somehow difficult. Not because of my poor memory, but because of the cluster of people swarming from every direction. I swear this feels like a bee hive more than anything else considering it's beginning to become cramped as one.

Eventually, I managed to find it. I never would've guessed that the shop was tucked away near the plaza entrance. I do have a blurry memory of a lowly booth in the middle of the plaza. Oh well, at least I've found what I set out to find.

I was more intrigued that it now had a sign above all else. It was just "Flower Shop" if I truly remember correctly. But now, it says "Carrie's Flower Shop". Without much hesitation, I pulled back the hood of my robe and went inside.

Inside, I was stunned by the wide array of flowers. They all smelled wonderful, as with flowers. Each petal caught my eye as not one was boring nor out of place. It was like a chaotic symphony that blended rather perfectly. Almost like life, actually.

The shop itself is quite on the boring side, to say the least. Just normal wooden works, a little bit of carvings here and there. The usual stuff. I'm not gonna lie, but it does lack quite a bit of space. The flowers kinda get in your face, if you want to put it that way.

"Oh, a customer...?" a low voice echoed from the back. It was a familiar voice. I went in further, curious as to whom the voice belonged to. Low and behold, it wasn't even one day and there we were, face to face again. "Roxas...?" Nolva said, her eyes were sparkling in excitement though her voice was not. "Nolva? You work here?" I asked. She nodded as an answer. I truly did not expect her to be in this place. I do remember her telling me that she was a puppet craftswoman. Didn't think she would step foot in a place like this. A place that has nothing to do with shaping wood, painting wood, and controlling wood. Or the smell of wood for that matter. "Uhm... so... what can I do for you...?" she timidly asked, her face flushed in her own hands.

I have to admit. She does look pretty cute.

I gulped in that thought before answering as a sole sweat dripped from the side of my face. "Uhh... Right. How can I say this? Uhm, can I ask for flower pots?" She perked her head up at me, her slightly confused look made me sweat even more. "Flower... pots?" she tilted her head while simultaneously raising her eye brow. "Yes. Can I buy some flower pots?" I asked again. This time I made my voice slightly more submissive. I didn't wanna sound like a total jerk, demanding flower pots. "Hmmm..." she thought about it for a moment. "I don't think I may be able to sell you those, Roxas." Of course. One can't just simply go to a flower shop and straight up ask for pots. "There are some over by that shop over there..." she pointed the shop parallel to where we are. However, I'm not just here simply for flower pots.

I am here for negotiation. It's actually time for Plan B.

"Is that so?" I said. She nodded whilst giving off a smile. A smile that, somehow, made my poker face dissipate. "Can I talk with the owner?" Immediately after I asked that, her face flew into a state of shock. "Uhm... excuse m-me...?" she stuttered. I'm sure she wasn't ready for this type of situation. "I think you heard me right, Nolva. I wanna talk with the owner of this flower shop." I threw in a tiny chuckle in there, to at least help her calm down. "Uhm... C-Carrie isn't a-around so p-please..." she pushed me towards the exit, though I wasn't moving an inch. So Carrie truly is the owner. Neat. I can't help but feel she's trying to lure me away. That or she's just trying her best to push me away. Either way, I really need to talk with Carrie.

"CARPENTER!" yelled a voice from upstairs. Nolva flinched from the sound. She was shivering. "Are you okay...?" I whispered to her. She shook her head violently. "WHAT'S GOING ON DOWN THERE?!" the voice echoed again, followed by heavy footsteps. "I TOLD YOU TO-" a plump woman appeared before the doorway at the back of the shop. She stopped in her tracks the moment she laid eyes on me. "Why, hello there. How can I help you?" she asked, a smile accompanying her question. All too suddenly, like a snap of a finger, her attitude and tone changed. I'm just going to pretend I didn't catch on her outburst just a few moments ago. It would ruin my chances at this. I held Nolva by the shoulders and placed her aside, making my way to the short woman. She was definitely cold. "I'm here to negotiate. I've got flower seeds you might be interested in." she raised an eyebrow on what I said. Looks like it's just that easy to get her attention. "Go on, I'm listening..." she said as she slowly took a seat behind the counter while I was left standing. So much for 'the customer is always right' business.

I leaned in closer. I felt Nolva's presence come closer behind me. "I've got Dawnchaser seeds..." "WHAT!? IMPOSSIBLE!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. "YOU'RE NOT A NOBLE SO HOW COME!?" It was obvious she wasn't trying to keep this a secret. I saw Nolva stand at a corner near us. Totally able to hear our conversation. It was also plain rude of her to proudly say that I was no noble. It was true, regardless on how one would look at me. Although despite the truth being so blatantly obvious, I still felt a sting be pierced at the entirety of my pride. "If you won't believe me, then I'll show you. I've planted some in my field." Without even saying a single word, she immediately ran up back upstairs. It was already clear she was coming with me.

With all that ruckus upstairs, I turned to Nolva. Who, in turn, bore an expression I could not quite describe. Curiosity, poker face, or was it something else? "You have Dawnchasers...?" she asked, breaking the ice between us. "Well, yeah..." I said nonchalantly.

I still don't get why people would go crazy when I mention the Dawnchaser flowers. It is still a mystery I have to figure out.

"I..." she was cut off by the short woman. "Carpenter you are allowed to go home now. I need to follow this man. See if he's not bluffing." she exasperated, fixing her shoal before as she threw keys to her. "Lock up when you're done, alright Carpenter?" "Wait, Miss Carrie! I have to see this for myself, too!"

Wait a damn moment, this pig of a woman is Carrie? Here I thought she was just a manager running the shop for the real owner. I felt my face burn hotter as I saw both her and Nolva at the same time. I do not know why.

"Fine. We'll wait outside." Carrie groaned as she literally dragged me outside. Again, so much for 'the customer is always right'. After a short while, Carrie's frustration was finally quenched when Nolva locked the main door to the shop. It was a beautiful door, though. Although the same cannot be said about the owner.

I swear my brain chuckled at that moment.

So there we were, heading for my house. On the way there, Carrie was constantly pushing Nolva around, blaming her for not getting her a Sun hat. It was, after all, hours before noon. So the heat was no joke. However, all came to pass as we finally reached my house. My home. "FINALLY!" Carrie yelled at the top of her lungs as she sat under the shade of a tree. "So the Dawnchasers are over there, right by the small house." I said, directing them to the field of flowers. They went there as instructed. The moment they saw the field, their eyes were filled with disbelief. Nolva's eyes were filled with hope while Carrie was drooling over herself. "I can't believe my eyes..." she said. "I CAN'T BELIEVE MY EYES!" she screamed again.

I do want to believe this woman is more animal than person but whatever. It's business.

"You're selling ALL of this to ME!? NOPE! I simply CANNOT accept!" she said out of the blue. I didn't even get a chance to explain myself. But one must try. "That was not my intention, Miss Carrie. I want to sell these under you. Say, I get half of what you gain from these Dawnchasers." She crossed her arms. "Give me a moment. I'll get back to you in a second..." she mumbled as she walked towards that tree.

Which leaves me and Nolva alone.

I turned towards her. She was sitting down, caressing one flower. Somehow, exactly like I do it. It was clear in her eyes that she was completely enthralled by the flower's beauty. The petals were shining really bright. As if they're the Sun themselves. "How did you even get these? You aren't a noble, are you...?" Even she asked me that?

It was already clear from my looks to my house that I was no noble. Though, I do wish such a thing could magically happen to me, I know that in a million possible futures that even such as a peasant like me becoming a noble is merely a daydream. It's just isn't possible. What I am currently seeking is a life worth living.

A life in which I need not risk my life senselessly.

"I mean, just look at me. Do I even look like a noble to you?" I said, breaking my eye contact with her and turning towards the field. I don't really want to dwell on the fact too much. It's just a hard thing to swallow. Somehow, even though I broke my gaze on her, it managed to crawl it's way back to her. Our eyes, then, locked in place. The way she looked at me was something else. I can't quite put it together nicely, but it made me smile.

She smiled back. Though, it soon turned into a sadder smile.

"I didn't mean anything wrong..." she said apologetically. At least that made me calm down a little. "...but, you are kind, right?" she pushed into me a little further. I do not even know where these questions are coming from. Even so, they are still questions directed at me. "What makes you say that?" I asked instead of answering her. She giggled as a response. "You guided me to Corona. Did you forget?" Ah. I guess she got me there.

Our conversation was cut short as Carrie came back from her brainstorming. She seemed rather calm despite everything. She cleared her throat before saying, "Tell you what kid, I accept your offer. Just as long you continue to provide me with Dawnchasers, you will get the half of the income. But, you have to work for me at the shop. Is that a deal?" she said, rather arrogantly, as she held up her right hand towards me. I'm going to tell it to you straight, I've always wanted a job. Working tirelessly to keep you living is, oddly enough, a nice thought to have. But, I'd rather have someone else to work under than her. However, I have no choice. "I accept" I said as she shook her hand.

"Then we'll get a bunch of thugs to put all of these in pots tomorrow. I'll see you tomorrow. Come, Carpenter, we are leaving." Carrie said as she dragged Nolva with her. I could see her struggling too. But, even with that, she turned around and waved at me. I know this won't be the last time we'll meet. It's just merely the first.

And with that, I think I may have found a new life.