The moon hung low in the sky, casting pale light on the village streets as Sunny walked through the familiar paths. The weight of the villagers' eyes upon him was suffocating, but it wasn't the whispers that stung; it was the memories. The past he had tried so desperately to escape seemed to follow him like a shadow, never letting him go.
Sunny's footsteps slowed as he approached his family's old home, the house now standing eerily still under the moonlight. His parents, ever protective, had stayed behind in this quiet village, isolated from the turmoil of the world. But in his heart, Sunny knew that the quiet they had sought was never real peace. It had always been an illusion—one that they had forced upon themselves to shield him from his destiny.
The door creaked as he pushed it open, stepping inside. The smell of old wood and herbs filled the air, a stark reminder of the life he once had. His mother's presence was everywhere—her healing herbs, the delicate tools she used to craft remedies, and the subtle scent of lavender she always carried.
"Sunny," a voice called softly from the shadows.
It was his father, standing at the end of the hallway. His silhouette was thin, yet imposing, his face weathered by time and regret. There was a weariness in his eyes that hadn't been there when Sunny had left. His father, once a man of great stature and authority, seemed diminished by the years of solitude.
"You came back." His father's words were not of joy, but of resignation.
"I had no choice," Sunny replied quietly, not meeting his father's gaze. The truth was that he had been drawn here by something deeper than necessity. He needed answers. Answers he had buried deep inside for far too long.
His father let out a long breath, stepping forward into the faint moonlight. "You think you're here to escape your past, but all you're doing is walking back into it. The scar, the death, the blood you spilled… those things can never be erased."
Sunny's chest tightened at the mention of the scar. The man he had killed, the reason he had been branded as a monster. That moment of rage, of desperation, still haunted him. He had been so sure of his actions at the time—he had believed in his righteousness. But now, every step forward felt like a step deeper into a labyrinth of confusion.
His father continued, "You think you're special, that your actions can change the world. But all they've done is hurt you. And now, you're back here, like a broken compass. You don't know where you're going, Sunny. And you never will, not until you face what you've done."
Sunny's hands clenched into fists. "I had to do it. He was manipulating me, using me as a tool. I couldn't just stand by—"
"You were no different than him," his father cut in, his voice cold and unforgiving. "You think killing him made you better? You think it freed you from his chains? No, Sunny. You became what you hated."
The words hit Sunny harder than any blow could. His father was right, in a way. The scar, the blood, the death—it had changed him. He was no longer the innocent boy who had left this village. He was a shadow, a being forged in fire and regret.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The silence between them was heavy, like a storm waiting to break. Then, finally, his father's voice softened.
"There is a reason why you left, Sunny. You ran from something. But the question is, what are you running toward?"
Sunny's gaze lifted, meeting his father's eyes. "I don't know," he whispered, his voice breaking. "But I have to keep moving forward. I have to find something—anything—that makes sense. I can't stay here, caught in this endless loop of guilt."
His father nodded slowly, as if understanding something unspoken. "Then go," he said quietly. "But know this—whatever path you take, whatever you do, you will never outrun yourself. The scar is not just on your skin, Sunny. It's in your soul. And until you can accept that, you'll always be chasing your own shadow."
Sunny turned and walked away, the weight of his father's words settling heavily on his shoulders. His heart felt as though it was being crushed by the truth, but he couldn't stop. He couldn't stop moving, even if it meant walking straight into the heart of his own darkness.
As he exited the house, the village seemed to close in on him once more. The eyes of the villagers watched, not with fear this time, but with pity. They knew. They always knew. The boy who had been their prodigy was now a man, and that man was a stranger to them all.
Sunny walked through the village with a single thought on his mind: I can't go back. I won't. The past had become a chain around his neck, but there was still time to break free. He just had to find the key.