[journey] not so brave, not so smart

The act was chillingly simple: driving metal through a heart, even one as twisted and decayed as hers. Ruìsāng's red eyes locked with the grandmother's, his expression unflinching, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he twisted the poker, a cruel echo of her past attempts to seize his heart. He willed her to feel a frosty agony, a fitting end for her cold, dark soul.

But her reaction was unexpected — a mix of surprise and a strange sense of relief that unnerved him. A pang of something twisted inside him, an urge to retract his lethal strike, but it was too late. Her body shuddered, and then, like a nightmarish mirage dissolving, she crumbled to ashes. The illusion shattered, revealing the remnants of an old, forgotten home.

A soft breath escaped him as he stepped forward, his movements automatic, numb. That's when he noticed something amidst the debris. Bending down, he picked up a cracked photograph. It depicted a mother cradling her child, a moment of tenderness frozen in time. He stared at the image, his jaw clenched tight, a storm of emotions brewing beneath his stoic facade. With a flick of his wrist, he let the photo fall, the glass shattering further upon impact. It didn’t matter. Smiles in photographs were just that — smiles. They didn’t change the past, didn’t absolve sins. His own mother had smiled once, too.

As his gaze shifted in search of an exit, he caught sight of the small, black Vulpix. For a moment, their eyes met, and a wave of something indescribable washed over him. It was then that the enormity of what had transpired hit him like a tidal wave.

A sudden, overwhelming panic seized him. His breath hitched, each inhale a struggle, as if the air itself had turned viscous. His heart hammered against his ribcage, a frantic rhythm threatening to break free. The room seemed to spin, the walls closing in, the shadows twisting into grotesque shapes. His hands trembled, the weight of his actions, of his choices, crashing down upon him.

Images flashed in his mind, each a piercing stab of reality. He had made a deal with the devil, and destroyed what remained of a once-human being. The gravity of his deed, the raw power he had wielded, and the darkness he had embraced, all coalesced into a suffocating cloak of terror and guilt.

He sank to his knees, his breaths coming in short, ragged gasps, each one a battle against the rising tide of panic. The world seemed to narrow to a pinpoint, his vision blurring as the edges of his consciousness frayed. He was alone, utterly alone in this forsaken place, with nothing but the weight of his own actions and the haunting presence of the Vulpix as witnesses to his unravelling.