The forest was silent—not even the chirping of birds disturbed the stillness. Sunlight filtered through the trees, casting golden beams across the undergrowth, creating a scene of serene beauty. But the young boy standing beneath the ancient tree had no room in his heart to appreciate it.
He wore little more than rags, his frail frame barely covered from the elements. His blue eyes were dull, lifeless, the weight of exhaustion evident in the deep shadows beneath them. In his trembling hands, he held a frayed rope. He tied it to a thick, sturdy branch, securing it with a knot, then stepped onto a log.
The noose hung before him. He reached for it with shaking fingers, slipping it over his head. The rough fibers scratched against his skin, but he paid it no mind. His expression remained empty, his mind already resigned.
A quiet whisper escaped his lips.
"I'm sorry… Luna…"
With that, he moved to kick the log away.
