I stumble through the village, eventually reaching the ladder to climb into my home. I somehow find the strength to make it inside, where I expect to be scolded for being drenched and having spent the night outside. However, my mom is sitting at the dining table, her eyes clearly indicating that she stayed up crying all night, and she doesn't say anything when she sees me. I place my soaked clothes on the drying rack in the lobby, then, naked, head to my bedroom where I can finish drying and get changed.

As I'm sitting on my bed, I feel my tears start flowing again. I grab my pillow and bury my face in it, waiting for them to stop. After a while, I manage to get back up, get dressed, and go back to the main room of the house. My mom looks at me before asking:

"How are you holding up?"

"I... I'm not sure."

"I understand. If you feel up for it, they're still in their room. We'll have to bury them soon."

As she says that, I hear her voice waver, and I see a tear fall down her cheek. She rubs her eyes, then gets up before saying:

"I'll try to get some rest."

As she starts walking towards her bedroom, she stumbles. I run to her and support her to prevent her from falling as we walk to her bed. There, she lays down on it, then makes herself more comfortable as she starts crying again. I get out and gently close the door behind me.

Looks like my dad isn't in the house. I sit on one of the dining chairs and simply stare at the ceiling for a while. I don't feel ready to see my sibling's body yet.

I can hear the heavy rain hitting the walls and ceiling of our house. I find myself slowly falling asleep under its hypnotizing pattern. As I enter the world of dreams, I see my human family. Did they also cry when they learned of my death? Did my sister, Olivia, react to it like I reacted to Falie's? It's been a few years now, so she's an adult. I wonder what kind of path she chose to walk.

At least, thanks to my sacrifice, they get to live in relative peace and harmony. But on this side of the mountains, even without the war...

I start seeing large swaths of dry lands, with empty riverbeds snaking through them, bringing no water to the parched soil. I see dead trees and bushes, with wild animals trying their best to eat the branches. I see the scalding sun, high up in the sky, causing everything below to catch on fire.

I see Falie, in the middle of it all, hungry and dehydrated, reaching out to me, asking for help. But I can't reach back, my own arms are too short and already on fire. I try to run towards them, but flames burst from the ground and form a wall I can't cross. I hear them scream, I scream back, but I can't move, I can't act.

The flames then turn black, swallowing everything on their path, until there's nothing left but a void.

I open my eyes and bring my breathing back under control. It was just a dream.

At some point while I was falling asleep, I put my head down to rest on the table, so I straighten back up and look around me. I wasn't asleep for very long, mom is still in her room, dad still isn't back, and there's just as much light outside, although the rainy clouds do make it harder to tell what time it is.

The house is completely silent. I turn towards the living room, where I can see a stack of wooden blocks that has been left untouched for a few days now. The purple block stands aside from the rest, ready to be played with once more.

I get up, walk towards the construction, and grab it. Should I try carving it into a humanoid shape, like I was planning to, or should I leave it like that, in memory to how it was the entire time Falie played with it?

I put it back down. It's probably better to not touch it.

I go back to the dining room, where I stop to take a look in the direction of Falie's bedroom. I take a step forward, then shake my head. I'm not ready yet. I change direction and enter my bedroom instead. I let myself fall on my bed, where I quickly start drifting back to sleep.

Plants still haven't started producing food again, but with some wildlife coming out of hiding now that it's raining, my dad was able to catch some prey. While our meals are still small, at least we left the poisonous roots behind.

The atmosphere in the house is extremely heavy. We're all affected by Falie's passing, and we share few words. My mom in particular stopped doing most of the tasks she used to take care of, and her various tools for making everyday objects have remained unused for a few days. She spends her days sleeping or sitting in silence in the living room.

I'm not faring much better. I used to often play with my baby sibling, so I often find myself sitting on the floor and doing nothing. When I feel slightly better, I grab some wood and a carving knife and practice making sculptures. I first picked up this skill to make more toys for Falie, and now that they're gone it seems a bit pointless, but... I still find myself drawn to it.

One evening, as I'm about to head to bed, I finally find the courage to do a small detour and enter Falie's bedroom.

They're laying on their bed, peacefully. Their dark hair has been combed by our mother, and they're wearing mortuary clothes, made with the feathers of a Skull Raven and decorated with strands dyed black, white and purple. Next to the bed are some items they're going to be buried with because they were important to them. Considering their age, they didn't have the time to choose what they would be, so it fell on our parents to do so.

On the small table are a few sets of clothes they wore as a newborn, some of the learning material that was made for them, such as drawings of plants and animals of the forest, the tree leaves on which they painted when my parents decided to let them try playing with dyes, and an unfinished set of colorful clothes that they never got to wear.

I leave the bedroom, make my way to the living room, and grab the purple wooden block they liked to play with so much. I bring it back and place it on the table with the other objects. They should at least get to have their favorite toy in the afterlife.

I then focus my attention back on my sibling. I can't help but start crying again, seeing them like this, never to open their eyes, scream of joy or surprise, ask me for help, or share a meal with us again. We'll never get to see them come back from school all proud of having learned something new, or become an adult and be given a new name.

I put a hand against their cheek. They feel so cold. Life truly left their body. I guess a part of me still hoped that Falie would just... come back. Wake back up, walk into the dining room, and say that they're hungry. We would then realize that it was all just a big nightmare and things would go back to the way they were. But touching them like this, seeing them all ready to be sent out to the afterlife... I fall on my knees and start sobbing uncontrollably, my head in my arms as I use the bed as support.

I don't know how long I end up staying like this, but I let all of my emotions out. I'm sad, angry, confused, filled with despair and ready to give everything up. I'm mad at the world, at nature and at civilization, at the earth and the sky, at the wind, hot or cold. It didn't have to be this way! It didn't... So why? Is there anyone who can tell me?

Why is life so fragile?

I eventually calm down and manage to get back up. My cheeks are all wet, and I feel completely drained. I take one last look at Falie, then turn around to head to my own room. At the door, I can see my parents, looking at me affectionately. As I approach, they place themselves around me and give me a comforting hug. I start crying again, but more calmly this time. I'm not alone, there are other people I love and who love me. Together, we'll manage to get through this. We have to. I must live the life Falie didn't get to experience, in honor of their memory.

We hold a ceremony for all the lives that were lost during the dry season. The Rai'in don't have cemeteries like humans do, but their traditions aren't completely different, either. There's a part of the village we were always forbidden from entering, for our intrusion would "disturb the dead" according to the Elder. I now fully understand what he meant by this.

In a small patch of forest within the village stands a large stone monument. Countless names are carved into it and holes were dug all around it. Next to each hole is the dead body of a Rai'in child. Falie is among them.

Standing in front of the crowd on top of a flat rock, the Elder speaks:

"We're here today to mourn the deaths of our children. As you know, the Skull Ravens, servants of the Rai'ire, carry the souls of our dead to their next destination, to the afterlife. However, the souls of children are too fragile, and cannot safely be transported. For this reason, we must keep them here, under this sacred monument, until a Rai'ire comes herself to guide them. On the facets of this stone monument are carved the names of all the the children who were born in this village and never got to reach adulthood. Today, we add seven more names to that list."

Some of the references are unclear to me, as I never learned all that much about the beliefs of the Rai'in. Still, I was taught that the Skull Ravens are seen as beings who connect this world to the afterlife, bringing the souls of the dead over there. Our traditions hold that using their lost feathers to craft mortuary clothes allows them to more easily find the bodies, and thus souls, of the departed.

The Rai'ire, however, are a complete mystery to me. I can gather from context clues that they're a variant of the Rai'ila, but their connection to death and the role they play in the transport of souls escapes me.

One family member per deceased child approaches the monument and starts carving the name of their loved one into it. For us, my dad is taking care of it. My mom is holding me close, doing her best to hold her tears back. Nobody dares make a single sound, and the silence is only broken by the hammering of chisels against the stone. One by one, the family members finish inscribing the names of the children, and come back into the crowd. Once they're done, the Elder speaks again:

"May these names, now committed to the eternity of the stone, be forever remembered. May they serve as a reminder of how precious life truly is, and of how it may be taken at any moment. No matter how many times we go through it, we must never become numb to the death of our children. We must never accept it as a necessary part of our existence. Strive, every day, to make this a world where future generations can grow, to honor the memory of those who are buried here."

As he speaks, I can hear a few people in the crowd start crying, including my mother. Despite how emotional this moment is, my mind is instead brought once more to the words of the Monster King:

"Have you ever considered that we might be fighting for the same reasons you do? That we fight to get a future that was stolen from us back? That we fight so that our children won't have to go hungry and die anymore?"

I look at Falie as they get gently lowered into the hole that was dug up for them. Did the previous Monster King go through something similar to me? Did he believe that taking up arms against the non-monster races was the way to stop this from happening again?

I still don't understand exactly what he was trying to say, or why he made me come back as a monster, but I feel like I've started to understand what motivates the monsters a bit more. If someone was to come along and convince them that war is the only way to stop tragedies like this from happening, they would be more than willing to pick up arms and follow them into battle. And despite their many past defeats, they would still want to try again, in the hope that this time, victory will be theirs. They wouldn't be allowed to give up, their dying children a constant reminder of why they fight.

Family members are invited to approach the bodies of their loved ones to offer a final goodbye. As I look down at Falie's body, tears welling up in my eyes, I find myself wondering if I would be willing to join the next Monster King's army. I try to push the thought away, I would never be able to take up arms against the people I swore to protect, but... Seeing my sibling like this, I can't help but wish for a solution. Any solution. I don't want anyone else to go through this.

I bring my head down and let my tears flow. I don't care anymore if I'm playing into the Monster King's hands. I will grow stronger, and I will find ways to solve our problems. Not just for Falie, but for every name inscribed into this stone monument. I must accept that I've come to deeply love those I used to consider my enemies.

When we go back to school, I notice that the atmosphere is different from before the Dry Death. Among the seven dead children was one of our classmates, the spot where they used to sit now being empty serving as a reminder of what we went through. We're less playful than before, and our carefree attitude is gone, replaced by a cold determination to grow up and live for the sake of those who couldn't.

Thankfully, Cieno, who's aware that I lost a sibling, is supporting me as best they can. They're accompanying me back home every school day now, and regularly check on me to make sure I'm recovering. I'm glad to have a friend like them in my life.

Gradually, life goes back to normal. The pain within me doesn't fade, but I learn to carry it without letting it affect my mood. The same seems to apply to my parents, as they resume their usual activities. Our diet returns to normal as life comes back to the forest, and I continue to learn more about wood carving in my free time.

One evening, as I come back home, I see that my parents are putting a new shelf on one of the walls. Once it's secured in place, my dad places a small wooden sculpture representing a Rai'in child on it. It's sitting down, in the same position Falie took when playing in the living room. He then places a very small wooden block, dyed purple, next to the sculpture, and my mom dresses it in miniature colorful clothes. As I approach, I grab a chair I can climb on to reach the shelf, then gently touch the scene my parents recreated here. The Rai'in don't have painted portraits or anything similar, so this is their way to keep a visual representation of lost loved ones. My dad looks at me and says:

"With this, they'll always be with us."

Feeling my emotions swell again, I hug him, and my mom joins us. We stay like this for a while, enjoying the proximity to each other, and looking at this memory immortalized in wood.