Woosh! Blizzard shatters. A store shattered. And a monument of cherishing is gone in the wind.
Just a few seconds ago, everything was sunny and peaceful on the coast of Wailstone. But as the librarian expected, even a comforting sun could last a second anytime. And as everyone seems so happy, it just lasts before their eyes.
The shore freezes, the water solidifies, and the wind that bursts into people's faces is a squall that strikes like a barrage of arrows. The sun disappears from the sky, with clouds that know no limits to what they torment.
Bwoosh!! The hail echoes a destruction. And Wailstone is a fragile glass.
Celebration was too early to be warm for everyone. Snow is rain that falls hard like a rock, and birds fall one by one with their wings cold. Not only did the town not expect a hailstorm, they wouldn't even last against it in the rubble they called homes.
"Run!!" Yelled a man, and everyone's a sheep.
So, all the people could do now was to run from the hail. Running was all they could do after they were waiting for a sunrise. Running is what the librarian, the cleric, and the Tin Man had done earlier before anyone else. Yet still, they were on the edge of the slow, freezing death like others.
"Whoa? What! Wait! Hang on! Umph!"
"Eve! Cyrus! Help! I'm stuck around these—mph! Help!!"
"Eve!!"
Charger vanishes into the crowd, and the two haven't seen him yet.
The librarian, the cleric, and the Tin Man are in that same crowd that echoes for vanity and pride. Now, rushing through countless screams for mercy, all that's left is a sense of survival.
"Run for your life! Run for your life!! The end is near!!"
"Prince Carven!! Save us!!"
"Forgive us, Prince Carven!!"
Watching through the low corner of the town, with a canopy above their heads and a thick, tattered coat, the librarian and the cleric comforted in the warmth of an alley as they watched people yell helplessly for something to change. It didn't help much with their journey, but it let them witness even more than the snow outside.
"See how funny it was that the world shook at just one simple snow?" Eve ridicules.
"It's not a simple snow! It's death! They didn't know that?" Cyrus berates.
"And who to say that I didn't warn you about that?"
"How is that going to save them?"
"I don't know. How would you save them?"
Bodies lie helplessly as each slowly finds their demise unfair. Poor houses start to fall apart like crackers—and nobody likes a cold cracker. Yet the bodies would sleep well under the rubbles like no bed ever. The librarian calmly watched as the world fell into pieces on a man.
"Sir, watch out!! There's a—" Cyrus yelled.
Crack! A pile of bricks hits a man from above, and there's no sign of him moving.
"Oh, fuck...fuck...fuck...fuck..." Cyrus falls to his knees.
"One man couldn't even make a better of your words." Eve ridicules.
"How's that helping me?"
The outside is dead—unlived by the death before they can find out what happens on Friday. All except the three wanderers who spent all their strength hiding in the cold corner of the town. The librarian couldn't ask for more views.
They stay on the canopy longer as the snow thickens, and the people still run for their lives. There was chaos, and the reason was death among the people. But the cleric persists for his place even on the brink of anarchy.
"Well, it helps you not die here! Can you not see the weather? Not one even can but us!" Eve mumbled.
"But we could've done something about this!"
"No, we don't. Nobody sees it as I do, do you think they will believe me?"
"You could've helped them! You could've tried!"
"All I can do is help you. Not them. And that's a fact!"
"Fact tells us that we are not a saviour! And we'll never be because we are not the ones in charge of this fate! We are just its learner..."
The sun is gone, snuffed by the cold or forever in the darkness before Gold Creek. Cold engulfs like a wave, and the shore is freezing rapidly before the librarian's eyes. The cleric shimmers in a false sense, but nothing can be held forever with the bone-chilling wisp.
"I don't understand. Why are you acting like this? What are you trying to show me!" Cyrus grasps his hair fiercely.
"Because this is what the people needed. This is what Gold Creek always needs. The truth."
"And the truth is. Wailstone cannot be saved. It can only be cleansed."
"No, are you joking? People are dying!"
"Why do I joke, Cyrus? Because I'm a jester? Or am I pretending I don't care about the world when I do? Stop hiding it into your face..."
"The storm is not just a message. It's a fate. And those who survive are destined to learn...the truth..."
They sat once more, watching as the frozen tide loomed in the distance, unmoving and immense, while people around them collapsed one by one. The cleric longed to help—desperate to make a difference—but he remained too weak, bound to be envious instead.
"So much dead...so much...fuck!" Cyrus grasps the wall with regret.
"Fuck! Why did this have to happen?? Why did that prince has to do all of this!?"
"You really believe it was his doing?" Eve mumbled.
The librarian awaits, accepting the world in its wake as they start to open their eyes. Gold Creek won't be the same, and people slowly accepted that truth with a closed eye. Not even the librarian had seen so many witnesses on the snow like her before.
"Look at those people, Cyrus. They died so easily..." Eve commented.
"That has nothing to do with him. It's only his fate to be a messenger of the inevitable..."
"Frayfoil, Wailstone, Kornilem, they were all rotten to the core. They had to be wiped out for good, Cyrus..."
"Because if they don't, evil would've grown out of them. An evil you wouldn't understand."
"You never know how good it was for the world when they have nothing and start from nothing again."
The librarian stands fierce against the snow, seemingly more powerful than ever. Where the cleric and the Tin Man appear frail—weakened in the face of the unstoppable. It is as if the blizzard spares the librarian not to be involved.
"Then what...what is the truth about us, Eve? What is our fate?" Cyrus stares at her.
"That we are meant to build a history from the truth. We share with the world what the storm had brought, and it is our role to stay alive."
"Well, don't you think your mother deserves to live for a reason, too? Or are we just pretending it's all fate," Cyrus grunts.
"I believe I did my best for her, Cyrus...I believe she is proud to know everything..."
Everyone had died, or buried, or hiding in the dark. But the librarian, the cleric and the Tin Man still live even without the sun shining above their heads. A hue of a familiar tangerine is all they need in a ticking snuff of winter.
"You're a brave man, Cyrus. A lot of your students would understand you as I do." Eve taps his shoulder.
"A lot of them would find me a disgrace. When would I ever choose myself over them?"
The snow slowly weakens, and the death would have been beyond a hundred. Wailstone has fallen before the librarian and the cleric's eyes, with no saving but a scenery. For the librarian, this was the awaited day for the ghost town. It was time for the two to leave their hideout, as what was left was now waiting for the shore.
"Good to see you energized, my friend. Ready to see the world outside with me?" She mumbled.
"Hrgh..."
"I'll take that as yes. Charger, please navigate the coast..."
"Charger! Charger? Where's that guy?" She looks around.
But when the librarian looked back, the Tin Man was nowhere in her catch. It appears she had forgotten him in the snow, as not even she remembered his voice until now. But the snow had already engulfed her way to see through her traces.
"Did you really forget him, too?" Cyrus scowl.
"Oh, please! You didn't even know he was here, did you? I was too busy holding a basket here when I had to talk with you..." Eve mumbles.
"How's he not following us?"
"Maybe because we never asked him? Don't you think?" Cyrus shivers intensely.
"Maybe? But I can't hear through the rubbles and crowds!"
The librarian and the cleric were troubled. Their options were few, time was slipping away, and they were far from ready to leave. Yet they couldn't abandon the town without the Tin Man—he held the key to their escape.
Eve ripped the cloth from the basket and patched her torn coat using the pieces.
"Ugh! I'll go get that man over! If the man inside opens, just go in and tell them two more are waiting!"
"Wait, don't go alone! You'll die of fever there!" Cyrus grabs her by the arms.
"Oh, please! I can handle a little cold here!"
"Not with that torn coat of yours! The winter is killing here!" Cyrus holds her by the hands.
"And who's to say we're staying here, anyway? Don't we have a boat to catch?" He mumbled.
"Alright. But I only have a few clothes to spare for your robes."
They couldn't leave the Tin Man behind. So the two trudged through the snow, hoping to catch a glimpse of his metal arm glinting amid the endless white. But each step was a struggle, with a storm cloud above them that rumbled and ranted, hurling thunder like angry rants.
"Aagh! I hate storms. Their thunders are just too rackety for me."
"No...I enjoy it honestly. That's what makes my night better when I see through my window before sleeping..."
"You enjoy it? I'm starting to wonder of a motive here..."
"What motive? I'm simply a human being, Cyrus. Don't you say you enjoy winter?"
"Kind of. But not with storms around...really icks me..."
Just moments ago, the librarian recalled how everyone laughed at the sky, believing they would be spared. But now, its citizens and the cruel Tophats had vanished into the snow, leaving almost nothing behind in this dead town. And yet, somehow, one man remained—a man who still held power in the husk of what once was, still refusing to accept his fate.
*Broadcast* "Attention, citizens of Gold Creek! This is Waylon Hoyles speaking..."
"As you can see, the world before us is turning against the forecast weather. However, please be sure to know that if this is related to our town's mysterious guest, you would've been a fool ditched on a well by the red-coated Tophats all along."
"Remain in your homes and avoid contact outside as I managed the town properly after the storm. Tophats will not tolerate any tresspassers."
"Nothing will happen on the fifth day. Do not believe these lies, and the winter storm is merely a slap on our wrists."
"Thank you, and have a nice Thursday!"
The broadcast ended.
The librarian nodded in confusion, knowing no need to hold a grudge for the man who had nothing to rule but was confused for a man who hadn't faded from the presence of death. Even if he survived, he only had a rotting empire with no one but him to seize. He dwells in his tower, still trying to regain control amidst the storm.
"What's up with him? Why he's so confident saying that?" Eve mumbled with a disgusted face.
"Because like many, he would've laughed at the truth before he admitted it." Cyrus crosses his arms with a smile.
"Then let it be known to be his last laugh."
"You said that, yet I see him hopeful as ever." Cyrus chuckled.
Those who survived the hail now linger around the rubble of another's home, being the only home that serves them well for once. What was once a home dwelled by cruel delinquents now belongs to them again in the dominance of the unfortunate.
"Hey! Hey! Get off of me! I'm the Tophat here! If you dare to hurt me, I'll—ack!"
"Take his coat! Take his gun! Take everything!"
"See that, Cyrus? These people are now the rulers." Eve peeks through the homes.
"That's...good...?" Cyrus admires.
The librarian has never been too jovial, but now she couldn't hold it anymore. For once, Wailstone is turning against any false belief of the Tophats. The cruel grip of a man is no longer matched by the sheer thousands of helplessness.
A few Tophats are stripped off of their clothes and killed.
"Aww, look at those people...they are free! Free!"
"I...guess...it's good, too..." Cyrus scratches his head.
Yet, it doesn't stop her from continuing her journey. As she reached the edge of the shore fence, she found the port frozen over—but the Tin Man was nowhere in sight. What awaited her on the street however, was far worse than anything she had seen on the water.
"Alright. There it is. We should be able to find Charger the moment we passed this street. It was supposed to be the same place where we left him..."
"And how do we go pass that wall?"
"What wall? There was no wall in this—place?"
The two kept travelling to the west, where a seemingly minute disaster turned the street barely walkable. Not only the shore was frozen, but the street before them was an avalanche leaning from the street into it. It was a thick wall between the unknown.
"What do you say about this, Eve? Is this also part of the prince's plan?" Cyrus mumbled.
"You know to know the truth now? I thought you were also a reasonable man." Eve replies with a teasing tone.
"And I am reasonably ready to argue. So tell me...does turning the street into a pile of snow do something worth it for Gold Creek?"
"It helps make this place more natural. At least people now know this place isn't meant for a walk." Eve teases.
Yet the two push into the cold, with the librarian embracing the cold and slipping into the soft, thickening snow in her way. Darkness is all that lies on her path. One cannot say the same for the cleric whose eyes are looking down on his lantern first.
"Ough! Umph! Ouch! It's cold! It's cold!"
"Come on, Cyrus! I've been here way longer than you without screaming! Would you rather die out in heat than in snow?"
"Yes? Because at least I didn't suppress myself with a thick, freezing coat that keeps fighting my body's temperature!"
"It's hot, and it's also cold! It irritates me!"
"Oh, just don't move too much and you'll be fine!"
"Aagh! UGH! Yeouwch! It's cold! It's cold!"
"*Sigh* Then pray it won't be snowy when we're there, Cyrus."
At the end of the thick wall of snow, the Wailstone is seen differently. As the librarian and the cleric surfs out of the wall, they find the side of this town in the Tophat's line. It was warmer and less snowy, but men and women are not safe here, and the Tin Man is definitely one of them.
"Eve!" Charger yelled for her name. But they were not here to help him.
"Oh, Charger! Not now!" Eve ducks along with Cyrus in the snow.
Tophats finds him scouring the ground—and confused as he was, draws their weapon for a fight. Yet the Tin Man stands only in horror for the snow before he perches his eyes on his friends from a distance. The cold struck him hard. He barely moved from it, and it seemed he was about to be turned a fortune for the men.
"What is that thing?"
"Is that alive? What in the hell are you?"
"I'm nobody. You don't see me and you better let me go! This snow is so terrible! Aaah!!" Charger panicked.
"My head is cold! Huhuhu! I can't...I can't...too cold..."
The man draws their blade before Charger's face.
"Where do you think you're going? Are you one of these storms making?"
His spine shivers, his metal arms teeter, and his coil eyes twitch. The Tin Man was too afraid to move in the snow, while the red-coated crooks seized the opportunity to strike him. The librarian and the cleric could only watch as they were too feeble to intervene against hundreds.
"Oh, goodness. He's doomed!" Cyrus mumbled.
"No, he didn't. Don't interfere with the Tophats' deed. They'll kill you too."
"Besides, Charger isn't that bold for a creature. He knows what's he doing."
The conflict
"You can't escape us, creature!"
"Whatever you are, you're coming with us now!"
"Ugh! I have no time for this! Go away!" He held his watch. A tick, and he disappears.
But in a seemingly impossible odd, the Tin Man escapes the gang of Tin Man through an invisibility shroud. In just the eyes of the Tophats, he faded from existence. They stood in confusion, unaware that the Tin Man had no look for a fight.
"What the...? Did he just vanish??"
"What kind of magic is this? There's a witchcraft doing here!"
"Somebody find that creature now!"
The Tophats disperse.
When the street is clear, the Tin Man appears out of nowhere from the eyes of the librarian and the cleric. The cold still bears a wound in his mind, but seeing his friend relieves him enough.
"Eve, Cyrus! Yay!" He exits.
"Wohoho, Charger! You're alive! Hehe..." Cyrus pats his head.
"Of course I am! But why are you leaving me? I was calling your name!"
"We thought you were following us! You would've killed yourself for nothing here." Eve grabs his body to warm him up.
"Now, will you stay in our foot and help us mold history for the world?"
"I'm the one that should've said that! But of course...I have the key! And, look who has to carry out the grocery now?" Charger flexes.
Not only does he bring solace for the two, but he also saves them time from pondering with a void gaze. The librarian finds the Tin Man cleverly prepared for the snow, bearing her basket full of everything she had carried for an entire day. How tiring it must be.
The snow brought the Tin Man to his knees. His thoughts were scattered by the hail as he waited for a voice—louder than the storm—to break through the howling wind. His arms trembled, unsteady, and all he longed for was a way out—a ticket away from this endless winter.
"Are you okay, Cyrus? You look down..." Charger mumbled.
"Well, the world isn't at its good anymore. What can I say? We're doomed..."
[Sun] "I just hope we could've done something to keep people's spirits at peace before they died," Cyrus pities.
[Moon] "I wonder if there's really hope for us out there," Cyrus frowned.
[Storm] "I guess some people die eventually. But I was hoping not like this," Cyrus grunts.
The omen finally took the world clean, and the librarian felt a peak of satisfaction. But with the Tophats still lingering on the other side of the snowy wall, there's still a doubt set in her heart when she sees hope for a false man. Perhaps none of that should've mattered now when she left this town.