The Weight Of Unspoken Words

The dark night had fallen. Around us, the chirping of crickets filled the silence, their song weaving through the darkness that enveloped the forest where we stood. It was quiet—deeply, almost unnervingly quiet. A gentle breeze began to stir, causing the old windows of the cabin to creak and groan as if whispering secrets long forgotten.

In the center of the wooden table, an old dusty lamp glowed faintly, casting a soft, almost soothing light amidst the surrounding chaos. I sat on a rickety chair beside Merlin, who was focused on repairing a tiny lantern she had found tucked away in a drawer. Her hands told stories of hardship—scars and healed cuts were plainly visible, like silent reminders of battles fought and endured.

The wind teased strands of her hair from her face, revealing her features more clearly. Her eyes, once filled with rage, now appeared distant and contemplative, the fury replaced by a quiet stillness.

The chair beneath me was hard and uncomfortable, and my body felt heavy—as if weighted down and nailed to it, drained of any strength to resist. Through the now-open cabin window, the star-studded sky stretched out before me. Leaves rustled softly, their shadows dancing beneath the pale moonlight.

Everything had shifted—I could feel it in the air, the heaviness of my thoughts pressing down like a storm cloud. A hundred unspoken questions churned inside my mind, each one a sharp "why."

Finally, I turned to Merlin. "Are you managing?" I asked softly.

She glanced up, forcing a tired smile. "I think it'll be fine," she replied quietly.

"I'm not much help," I admitted.

"Come on, it's okay. I'm just glad we're finally back together. Honestly, I understand how you feel—I'm still in shock myself. Who would've thought it would end like this?"

"I agree, Merlin. So, when do we leave? Do you have a plan? You know this area best."

I rose from the chair and faced her; she mirrored my movement.

"There's weapons behind the cabin," she said, moving toward the door, hand on the handle. "I hid them earlier. They'll definitely come in handy."

She looked at me with determined eyes. "Try to find some food, too. There has to be something left on those old shelves that could help us. Take everything."

I nodded, and she stepped outside.

I began rummaging through drawers and managed to find a single old can of beans, a small knife, and several unopened bandages.

"She must've been preparing for something," I muttered with a small smile.

Her voice floated faintly through the cabin walls. "Devin, come here! You need to see this."

I hurried out, circling around the cabin until I spotted her holding two pistols and a rifle.

"One's for you. You'll definitely need it—those Nortons will be right on our heels."

I took the pistol, slipping it into the pocket behind my pants. Merlin still carried an old backpack, which she had pulled from a large wooden chest behind the cabin.

The wind began to rise, and an unusual crackling sound made me quickly peek around the cabin's edge.

"Devin, we're screwed," Merlin whispered urgently. "I see lights approaching—we've stayed here too long."

"Okay, let's pack the food and bandages fast and get moving. I found some kindling, and we'll gather firewood along the way. We've got a few old blankets, too."

Merlin quickly strapped on the backpack, and we plunged into the depths of the dark forest. The lights behind us faded slowly, but safety was still nowhere in sight.

We walked through the underbrush, using it to block the patrols' line of sight—so far, it seemed to be working.

"It's not safe to light the lantern yet," she said, frustration creeping into her voice. "We'll have to wait until we're completely out of their view."

I heard a flicker of the old anger in her tone again, this time aimed squarely at the Nortons.

When we finally put enough distance between us and the cabin, we slowed our pace. The sounds of crickets and the forest life around us grew louder. Darkness wrapped tightly like a cloak, the only light coming from the dim glow of the small lantern, guiding our path forward.

I walked beside Merlin, feeling her fearless presence. I wondered what she had endured over all these years. The closeness we once shared—the comfort and confusion—still lingered in my heart.

"What do you think about Roi's letter?" I asked quietly.

Beneath us, dry twigs snapped softly.

"I'm as surprised as you," she said. "All these years, I blamed both you and him. I hated you both. And now here we are." She sighed deeply.

"Now I'm traveling with you because of that strange letter—searching for the so-called truth and trying to understand why you don't remember anything, why you both were cast out. I don't even know who's making it all up anymore. I don't understand why he never told me anything."

I looked ahead at the faint glow from the lantern, casting shadows on the path.

"I only know that I've always wanted to learn the truth about my parents' deaths. It's haunted me for so long. The fact that I appear in one of those photos beside your leader—and that he's my uncle—just raises even more questions. How is any of this possible? It feels like I woke up from some strange dream."

A hollow emptiness filled my mind and heart once again.

Merlin's hand found mine, and her firm grip offered unexpected comfort. I felt warmth and returned the squeeze.

Then she stopped and turned toward me, her face close enough for me to feel the warmth of her breath.

"What I don't understand is how they can blame you for those mass murders in Lobring. That doesn't fit at all with your story about your parents being killed by the Nortons. And how could you have even been there? They never sent us outside the base. Something smells really wrong."

She studied me carefully. "That moment felt like waking from one nightmare only to fall into another—that's all I know."

Merlin squeezed my hand again and pulled me closer. A warm wave passed through me. I saw her face—standing in the forest with me—it was spring. Everything was bright and clear.

She looked at me with the same gaze as now. Children. We were children.

The warmth turned to chills. I lowered my gaze, and my hands were once again stained with blood. Nortons dragged out the bodies of my mother and father.

But instead of Merlin, one of them stood before me.

"We're fucked," he said harshly. "Look at her." He pointed at me, speaking to another inside the cabin. "We have to get rid of her. This isn't good."

He stepped toward me. I stumbled backward, overwhelmed by fear and confusion. I started running, slipping into a room and hiding under the bed.

Suddenly, gunshots and shouting—"You bastards, get away from her!"

A hand reached under the bed. "Come out, it's okay. You're safe now. Hurry."

It was Roi. But his figure slowly faded, replaced by Merlin, who now looked at me with concern.

I glanced around and realized I was lying in a bush, with Merlin reaching out her hand to pull me out.

"What the hell happened? You scared me like no one ever has. It looked like you lost your mind for a moment."

I grabbed her hand, and she helped me to my feet. My clothes were torn, my arms covered in scratches. I began to cry—tears born from despair, trauma, and nightmares that returned more frequently, each time with new horrifying details.

Merlin wrapped her arms around my fragile body as I lay on the dry grass. She pulled me close and rested my head against her chest. I held her tightly, and the steady beating of her heart soothed me.

Her head rested on mine, curls falling softly across my face.

"It happened again," I whispered. "The same scene, only Roi."

Merlin drew me even closer and hugged me fiercely. We lay there in the dark forest, surrounded by nothingness. In that void, her presence and warmth felt like the only truth.

"We have to find Roi," she answered. "I'll help you. I can't lose you again. Let's find a place to rest."

We got up, and she helped me steady myself as we continued on.

"Tell me, Merlin," I asked after a while. "How close were we? You cared about me—so much care can't be for just anyone. It was different, wasn't it? I want to know."

Merlin was silent for a long moment, then quietly said, "We were close. I… I'm not sure it matters. You don't remember anyway. What's the point?"

I felt disappointed by her refusal but smiled and nodded. We walked on until we finally spotted a river in the distance.

"Shall we camp here?" I asked. "It looks safe, and we need rest."

She agreed. "Yeah, this is far enough from the government now."

Merlin dropped her backpack, pulled out old blankets, and spread them on the ground. I gathered kindling and dry branches from the riverbank while she prepared a small fire.

The warmth spread slowly through the cold night air. I looked up at the stars and thought about the journey ahead—uncertain, dangerous, but now shared.

"Are you hungry?" Merlin asked me quietly while I was trying to start the fire. She was pulling out the only can of beans we had managed to save from the cabin, holding it in her hands.

"I could eat something," I replied softly, as the flame from a dry twig finally caught fire and the small campfire began to glow warmly. I sat down on the blanket she had laid out, watching her thoughtfully as she warmed up the beans.

I lifted my gaze toward the sky, but now it was almost completely hidden by the thick branches of the forest, with only a few stars peeking through the leaves. The only sound was the rushing water of the stream nearby, flowing quietly yet relentlessly into the night.

Lost in thought, I felt Merlin quietly settle down next to me on the blanket. She handed me a small plastic container with half of the warmed beans.

"It's nothing special," she said, "but it will do."

Together, we looked up at the obscured sky, and then she lowered her gaze to me.

"So," she began, "what will we do when we find Roi?"

I sighed deeply, meeting her eyes.

"I don't know," I admitted, "I would tell you if I did, but truly, I don't know."

"To find the truth, and then to use that truth to bring justice…" My voice trembled slightly. "Though I know that truth might be worse than anything I ever expected."

Merlin just nodded quietly.

I stood up and went to lie down on the other blanket, opposite hers, preparing to rest. She arranged her space as well, and so we quietly slipped into sleep beneath the starry canopy.

Lying there, my thoughts wandered—about Roi, about my parents' murder, the children in the pictures, about myself, about Gordon… All of it haunted me more than anything else. No matter how much I tried to calm my thoughts and feelings, it was impossible.

Suddenly, I heard the crackling of dry branches. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Merlin rise. Curious, I pretended to be asleep, watching what she would do.

She moved toward me silently, careful not to wake me, unaware that I was awake. When she was close enough, she lowered herself so close that I could feel the warmth of her body on my face. I could clearly hear her soft breathing, mingling with the rustling of the wind through the treetops.

"You were everything to me," she whispered. "When I thought I lost you, I lost myself. I would betray an entire country, kill millions, anyone who stands in your way—just so I could look at your face again, your eyes, and your smile… your smile filled with joy like it once was."

Her face was so close to mine that I could feel her breath, her lips almost touching mine. Then she slowly pulled away, turned, and returned to her blanket.

I opened my eyes, my heart pounding wildly as if it would burst from my chest. I wanted more—I wanted her. Every part of her.

Ah, now I understand what she meant.

I closed my eyes and let myself fall asleep.