The forest clearing had changed. Once an untouched space, now it bore the quiet signs of vigil—trampled grass, faint scorch marks from spells tested nearby, and soft indentations where boots had lingered too long. At the center of it all lay Ren, sealed in a coffin of shimmering frost. The ice gleamed like a jewel whenever the sun pierced through the trees, casting fractured light across the clearing. And always, curled beneath or beside it, Vultherin kept watch—his fur glowing faintly with frostflame, his amber eyes alert even in sleep.

  Day One

  Rica was the first. She landed quietly from Queen's back, her boots sinking into the moss. She sat cross-legged before the coffin, her voice steady but weighed down.

  Rica:

  "...I made it official. Stray Dawn won't march with the Kingdom's armies. They wanted to brand us deserters. I didn't care. Without you... we're not the same. My priority is survival now—our survival."

  She pressed her hand against the coffin, frost biting her skin. Queen rumbled softly behind her. Rica smiled bitterly.

  Rica:

  "...They call me a leader now. But we both know, that was your role. I'm just holding your seat warm, Ren. So wake up soon, alright?"

  Vultherin lifted his head, tail thumping once in the dirt. Rica gave him a rare, small smile before leaving.

  Day Two

  Elly arrived next, carrying a small bundle of wrapped bread and dried meat. Vultherin perked up instantly, his tongue lolling like an excited pup. She knelt, setting the food beside him, and stroked his fur.

  Elly:

  "There you go, you good boy... guarding him so faithfully."

  Then she turned to the ice coffin. Her voice trembled.

  Elly:

  "I keep thinking—if I had been stronger, braver... maybe you'd still be laughing with us. I don't know if I can forgive myself. But Vultherin... he still believes. So I'll believe too."

  Her tears fell against the ice, trailing down the crystalline surface. Vultherin leaned close, nudging her shoulder softly, then ate with calm dignity—as though he knew this ritual was hers.

  Day Three

  Josh came crashing into the clearing with Seri on his back. Seri giggled, tugging at his hair, calling him her "steed." Josh rolled his eyes but softened as he reached Ren's side.

  Josh:

  "Oi, Ren. Still playing dead, huh? The war's heating up. Shadows are moving faster. Honestly, I'd rather be punching stuff with you at my side than... trying to keep Kristie from blowing up half the taverns."

  Seri slid down, planting a flower on the ice coffin.

  Seri:

  "Come back soon, Ren! Josh is too boring without you."

  Josh scoffed, but his hand lingered on the frost longer than he intended.

  Day Four

  Iver visited quietly, almost unnoticed. He stood for a long time without speaking, only staring at the ice, his jaw tight. Finally, he exhaled.

  Iver:

  "...They look to me for answers. Strategy, decisions, safety. I keep thinking, 'What would you do?' But I'm not you, Ren. I'll try to keep them alive until you return. That's the least I can promise."

  He pressed his fist lightly against the coffin, then turned sharply before his expression could betray more. Vultherin's ears flicked, as though acknowledging the vow.

  Day Five

  Kristie and Cedy arrived together, noisier than the rest.

  Kristie:

  "Oi, frosty! You've been napping long enough! Wake up before I make Cedy your replacement. He's not half bad, you know."

  Cedy:

  "...That's messed up, Kris."

  Kristie leaned close to the coffin, eyes sparkling with mischief that couldn't mask the quiver beneath.

  Kristie:

  "...You better come back, Ren. Who else am I supposed to tease until they lose their mind?"

  She thumped the coffin playfully, then sat back down, unusually quiet. Vultherin rested his head on her lap, and for once, Kristie didn't shoo him away.

  Day Six

  Jonax lingered longer than most. She kept pacing, starting to say things, stopping halfway. Finally, she placed her hoodie on top of the coffin, folding it neatly.

  Jonax:

  "...It's yours, anyway. Fits you better than me. So... just wear it when you wake up. Idiot."

  She left quickly after that, refusing to let anyone see her eyes.

  Day Seven

  The group came together. They all gathered in the clearing, the air heavy with the war's shadow looming closer. Each of them placed something before the coffin—flowers, charms, trinkets, or even just their words. Vultherin lay beneath the ice, his breath steady, his tail curled around Ren's coffin like a guardian spirit.

  Through it all, Elly always came with food, whispering to Vultherin, treating him like a bridge to Ren. The fox ate, then returned to his post, unwavering, unyielding.

  And so, a week passed. The forest clearing was no longer just a place. It had become a shrine—of loyalty, of sorrow, of stubborn, fragile hope.

  ...

  The late afternoon sun slanted between the trees, painting the forest clearing in gold. Elly and Lily walked side by side, their steps soft against the moss, carrying a small basket of food for Vultherin. Their laughter carried light through the air.

  Elly:

  "—and remember the time he swore he could cook fish properly? Burnt the whole thing black. He still made us eat it!"

  Lily snorted, covering her mouth.

  Lily:

  "He said it was 'extra flavor.' I nearly choked on the charcoal."

  They laughed together, the sound easing the ache in their chests as they approached Ren's coffin. Vultherin lay curled beneath it, tail twitching lazily, ears flicking when he caught their scent. But something else caught their eyes first.

  A small woven basket of flowers rested neatly at the base of the coffin, their colors vivid against the cold frost.

  The girls froze.

  Lily:

  "...Elly. Did you...?"

  Elly shook her head slowly.

  Elly:

  "No. I thought maybe Rica got sentimental, or Marian. They're the type, right?"

  They looked again, puzzled. The flowers were fresh, arranged carefully—not just plucked and thrown together. Whoever placed them had taken their time.

  Elly knelt, brushing her hand over the petals. Vultherin stirred, lifting his head briefly, but offered no protest. Almost as if he approved.

  Elly:

  "...Strange. Well, let's not think too much. Maybe it really was Rica."

  They placed their own offerings—food for Vultherin, words for Ren—and after Vultherin gobbled down his share, they returned to the inn, unsettled.

  At the inn, evening firelight flickered as they asked Rica.

  Elly:

  "By the way... the flowers. Under Ren's coffin. Was that you?"

  Rica frowned, shaking her head.

  Rica:

  "...Flowers? No. I haven't left anything."

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  The others perked up at the mention.

  Marian:

  "Not me."

  Josh:

  "Definitely not me."

  Iver crossed his arms, firm.

  "I would've remembered."

  Kristie, leaning back in her chair with a mischievous grin, raised her hand lazily.

  Kristie:

  "I did see something. Two days ago, I think? A basket of flowers, same spot. Thought it was one of you softies, so I didn't bother asking."

  The room fell into silence.

  Cedy:

  "...So none of us did it?"

  Jonax leaned forward, voice low.

  Jonax:

  "Then who did?"

  Days bled into one another.

  Each time they visited the clearing, something new awaited them. A bouquet of fresh flowers. A loaf of bread wrapped in clean cloth. Small dishes of fruit set neatly near Vultherin, who ate them without hesitation. Even the forest floor around the coffin—once rough and trampled—was swept clean, the moss laid smooth as though someone had tended to it.

  The group exchanged wary glances each time, their unease growing with every offering.

  Rej finally muttered during one visit:

  Rej:

  "...This is getting weird. Either some ghost has better manners than all of us, or someone's sneaking around with an obsession for Ren."

  Marian tried to laugh it off, but even her smile was thin.

  Marian:

  "Whoever it is... they're careful. Almost like... they don't want us to know."

  Elly lingered longest by the coffin that evening, her fingers brushing the newest basket of lilies. Her chest tightened.

  Elly:

  "...Who are you?"

  Her words were swallowed by the forest, and Vultherin's quiet huff was the only answer.

  Elly tied her cloak around her shoulders, hand brushing the basket she always prepared for Vultherin. Just as she opened the inn's door, Rica came descending the stairs, hair neatly tied back, her face shadowed by fatigue but steady.

  Rica:

  "You're heading out again?"

  Elly turned, caught in mid-step, and nodded softly.

  Elly:

  "...Yeah. I—I want to check on him."

  Rica's eyes lingered on her for a moment before she adjusted her cloak and moved closer.

  Rica:

  "Then let me come with you. I'll visit him too, today."

  Elly blinked in mild surprise but gave her a faint smile.

  Elly:

  "Alright. Let's go together."

  They walked side by side through the bustling town streets. The marketplace was alive with color and noise—merchants shouting their wares, the chatter of families weaving between stalls, children darting past with wooden toys clutched in their hands. For a moment, it almost felt... normal.

  An old woman selling vegetables from her cart spotted them. Her face lit up with warmth, and she called out.

  Old Woman:

  "Oh, going to see him again today, are you?"

  The question startled both Elly and Rica. Elly opened her mouth, unsure how to answer, but before she could, the woman was already rummaging through her cart.

  Old Woman:

  "Here, here—take these. Fresh apples. Give them to him, won't you?"

  She pressed a small woven basket into Elly's hands.

  Elly:

  "Ah—I... thank you."

  The old woman smiled, nodding kindly before turning back to her cart as though nothing strange had happened.

  As they moved further through the town, more voices rose to greet them.

  Fisherman at a stall, waving cheerfully:

  "So you're off to visit him again, young lady? Good, good. Tell him I said my regards, eh?"

  Another merchant leaned over his stand of fabrics.

  Fabric Merchant:

  "Don't let him think he's forgotten. He's still part of this kingdom."

  Each greeting chipped away at Rica's composure. She tightened her grip on her cloak, eyes darting from face to face. The people's smiles weren't mocking, nor half-hearted. They were sincere.

  Rica leaned closer to Elly, her voice low.

  Rica:

  "...Do you feel it too? This isn't right."

  Elly glanced nervously at her, shifting the apple basket in her hands.

  Elly:

  "Yeah. It's like... they all suddenly care. But weren't these the same people who turned away? Who whispered behind our backs?"

  Rica's steps slowed, her eyes narrowing as another villager waved warmly at them.

  Rica:

  "They called him a monster. They wanted us gone. And now—this?"

  The greetings didn't stop. As they passed through the square, a young girl tugged her mother's sleeve, pointing at Elly and Rica.

  Child:

  "Look, Mama! The ones who visit the sleeping hero!"

  The mother smiled softly at them, dipping her head in respect.

  Elly stumbled on her step. Sleeping hero. Her throat tightened.

  By the time they reached the forest trail leading to the clearing, the noise of the town dimmed behind them. The air grew quieter, heavier, carrying only the rustle of leaves and the faint crunch of their boots.

  Rica finally exhaled, long and sharp.

  Rica:

  "...This doesn't make sense. Something's changed, Elly. I don't know if I should feel relieved... or afraid."

  Elly, hugging the basket of apples close to her chest, lowered her gaze.

  Elly:

  "...Me too."

  ...

  When Elly and Rica stepped into the clearing, the familiar glow of Ren's ice coffin caught their eyes... but this time, they weren't alone.

  Two small children knelt in the grass, carefully plucking wildflowers from the edges of the clearing. Their mother sat nearby, arranging them delicately in a small woven basket. Not far away, a man with rolled-up sleeves swept away dried leaves and tugged weeds from the earth, keeping the ground neat around the coffin.

  Elly and Rica exchanged a glance, then walked forward cautiously. The sound of their footsteps made the woman glance up—and the moment her eyes recognized them, she froze.

  Her face paled, eyes wide like she was looking at idols come to life. Her lips parted, stuttering as though words betrayed her.

  Mother:

  "I—ah—I... forgive us, we—"

  Before she could finish, the two children bounded toward Elly and Rica with bright, unshaken smiles.

  Child (beaming):

  "We're visiting the Hero!"

  Child (holding flowers high):

  "We pick flowers every morning and give them to him. Mama says it makes him happy!"

  Elly's heart faltered. Rica stood rigid, brows furrowing slightly at the word Hero.

  The mother, flustered, finally found her composure and rose to her feet, clutching the basket of flowers tightly.

  Mother (softly, bowing her head):

  "We... we meant no intrusion. Truly. We only wanted to do something small for him. For everything he has done for us. If... if we are disturbing you, we'll leave."

  Her voice trembled with sincerity, her hands tightening around the basket.

  Just then, the man approached from the tree line, brushing dirt from his hands. His face was weathered, but his eyes were steady. He nodded respectfully to Elly and Rica before speaking.

  Man:

  "My name is Daren. I... I don't expect you to remember me, or my family. But Ren... he saved us. Monthss ago, when my wife was gravely ill and we had no means for medicine, and when my children went to bed starving... he was the one who gave us food. He stayed until she recovered, even though he had no reason to. No debt, no obligation. Just kindness."

  The man's gaze turned toward the coffin, voice heavy with reverence.

  Man:

  "I know what we do here is small. Picking flowers. Clearing leaves. It doesn't come close to what we owe him. But it is all we can give back."

  Elly clutched the basket of apples against her chest, her throat tightening. She had always known Ren was kind, but hearing it echoed through the voices of strangers—through children smiling as they honored him—was something else entirely.

  Rica stood silent, her eyes locked on the ice coffin. Her usual composure faltered for the first time, something unreadable flickering across her face.

  Elly wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve, voice trembling as she stared at Ren's frozen form.

  Elly:

  "Ren... he's always been like that. Too kind for his own good..."

  Her lips quivered, and finally the tears she'd been holding back spilled freely.

  Elly:

  "Yet people call him a monster."

  The clearing grew heavy. The family who had spoken moments earlier shifted uneasily, their children clutching their mother's skirt. None of them could find words to soothe her pain.

  Rica stepped forward silently, then wrapped her arms around Elly from the side. She pulled her close, whispering nothing, just letting the embrace say what words could not.

  Then, cutting through the stillness, came a warm, familiar voice from behind.

  ???:

  "Oi, Daren! Early as always, aren't you?"

  Elly and Rica turned. From the path emerged another man, broad-shouldered with strong hands, carrying a small wooden frame against his back. Beside him walked his wife, balancing a tray of fresh fish wrapped neatly in cloth.

  They stopped when they noticed the two women, their eyes widening in surprise. After a moment, both bowed deeply, respect and gratitude shining in their gestures.

  Man with Bed:

  "Forgive us. We didn't mean to intrude... We only thought Vultherin might rest easier on a proper bed, so I carved one. He's done nothing but guard Ren day and night—it felt wrong to let him sleep on the cold earth."

  His wife stepped forward gently, lifting the tray of fish.

  Wife:

  "And this is for him too. He must be hungry. We... we thought it's the least we can do."

  The man set down the wooden bed under the coffin, running his hand across its simple but sturdy surface. A craftsman's work. His eyes softened as he looked up at the ice where Ren rested.

  Man with Bed:

  "I was a furniture maker, once. Still am, in truth. But there was a time when I fell from the rafters of my workshop and shattered my back. No one thought I'd walk straight again. My family would've starved. But Ren... he stayed with me. Helped me finish my orders. Tended to me until I could work again. He laughed the whole time—like it was nothing. Like helping me was a joy to him."

  He smiled faintly, shaking his head.

  Man with Bed:

  "He said I made better chairs than anyone else in town. And gods, I've never laughed so much while sanding wood than when he was there."

  As he spoke, more voices trickled into the clearing. Footsteps on the dirt path. The sound of baskets, crates, and quiet greetings. One by one, people arrived—men, women, children, all carrying something.

  A young girl shyly laid a wreath of daisies against the ice. An elderly man placed a loaf of bread. A pair of siblings set down a jug of water. Another family brought herbs. Someone had even polished stones to decorate the ground.

  Each face lit with recognition as they beheld Ren's coffin. Each voice carried a story.

  "He found my lost son in the riverbank."

  "He fixed the wheels of my cart when no one else would."

  "He carried firewood for me when my hands were too weak."

  "He sat with me the night my wife passed, so I wouldn't be alone."

  The area around the coffin transformed before their eyes. Once bare and desolate, it became alive with offerings, with flowers and food and keepsakes. The air itself seemed to warm with memory.

  Daren's wife, watching Elly and Rica with gentle eyes, finally spoke.

  Daren's Wife:

  "Not all of them think he's a monster. At least... not to the people who come here every day to honor him."

  Elly broke. She pressed her face against Rica's shoulder, sobbing openly. Rica, for once, didn't hold back either—tears welled, slipping down her cheeks despite her desperate attempt to remain composed.

  Side by side, the two women cried before the coffin, as the people whose lives Ren had touched gathered around in silence, a circle of unspoken devotion.

  And though Ren could not see them from the in-between, their voices, their tears, and their loyalty clung to the air like a promise.

  The clearing grew still. Flowers and offerings surrounded the ice coffin, tokens of gratitude from those Ren once helped.

  Vultherin lowered himself onto the handmade wooden bed beneath the coffin, curling close, his tail wrapped protectively around the base. Children had tucked flowers along his fur.

  The fox rested—eyes half-shut, breath steady, guarding in silence.

  The townsfolk lingered only a while longer, watching in reverence. In the fading light, Ren's resting place no longer looked like a grave... but a sanctuary.