The caregiver clan pt3

The cave walls shimmered faintly with the light refracted from the pool everytime one of the three vayrons moved, the bioluminescence creating a really beautiful effect between the array of memories that were being reflected on the water's surface. Jeon-e, Mer, and Valentine stood submerged up to their shoulders in the pool, their eyes watching their shared past flow through. Cailu lingered at the edge of the pool now, having come close to see the memories too, his gaze inscrutable as he watched the three vayrons closely.

 

The handmaids still kept their distance. Their postures were attentive but passive, their roles merely to witness and gudge, their gaze locked on the pool. The memory currently playing across the surface of the water was bright and vivid, covering the trio in warm hues from below. In the memory, Jeon-e, Mer and Valentine ran through a sunlit clearing, their forms young and free. Laughter rang through the scene as they chased one another, their paws kicking up autumn leaves and making a mess of their coats. Jeon-e’s voice was full of joy as she looked back at Mer, who had tripped and was now lying in a huge pile of leaves. Valentine had laughed so hard, joining him in the leaves and rolling around, dirtying himself even more. The two of them stood up and went right to Jeon-e, trying to make her muddy too. She ran away, trying to escape the two muddy pups. 

 

The memory held a bittersweet glow, the kind of happiness so pure it left an ache in its wake, the one that was fit to be described as "the last of the good ones". The vayrons watched themselves with wistful expressions, their gazes lingering on a memory they had long forgotten, too busy with life.

 

“I’d almost forgotten this,” Jeon-e murmured, her voice quiet yet heavy with emotion. “The last good autumn we had for a while.”

 

“We were happy in those days,” Valentine added, his tone gentler than usual. “Nothing could touch us.”

 

Mer’s lips parted, ready to reminisce the past, but he said nothing as his eyes locked on the vision of their younger selves. There must have been a reason why they had all but forgotten that autumn, and as the memory rippled, the vibrant hues fading into muted gray, he started having a bad feeling about it. The clearing melted away, replaced by the interior of another cave, this one darker, the tones muted. The air in it felt heavy even through the intangible lens of the pool.

 

The vayrons stiffened as they recognized the scene. Jeon-e’s sharp intake of breath broke the silence, while Mer and Valentine exchanged a glance filled with unspoken pain.

 

The memory unfolded: Mer and Valentine's mother, laying curled in the corner, her chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven gasps. Mer and Valentine huddled close to her, their expressions stricken with helplessness. Jeon-e standing to the side, her figure tense with barely restrained grief as she paced the cave, her mind racing to find a solution to help where everything else failed.

 

They all remembered it. They remembered the sound of labored breathing, the voice creaking, the request made to Mer and Valentine to stay together, help each other, and never make the other suffer.

The desperation as she turned to Jeon-e, barely older than them, just a family friend at the time, and made her promise to keep them safe. It was gut wrenching, and not something a young vayron was equipped to deal with, but she vowed she would take care of everything. 

 

Jeon-e promised everything would be alright, but to please keep fighting, please resist until the morning, when Mer and Valentine can leave to find medicine, please don't leave them behind.

Their mother died like this, suffering and hopeless, and Jeon-e kept her promise to her. 

Life went on.

 

The memory faded, the pool started to clear up, but the silence left behind was loud. In the pool, the three vayrons stood motionless, their eyes cast downward. None of them spoke for several long moments, the weight of their shared loss pressing down like the unyielding stone above them.

 

“It’s been so long,” Mer finally said, his voice barely audible. “And yet it feels like yesterday.” his tone was thick.

 

“It will always feel like yesterday,” Valentine replied, his tone unusually subdued. “I wish she could have taken us with her, at least we would be together. I still can't think of her on a good day without crying.”

 

“And yet, you endured,” one of the handmaids said. Her voice, though soft, was reassured and absolute. “To lose a parent is to lose your safe heaven.”

 

“We didn’t have a choice,” Jeon-e said, lifting her head to meet the handmaid’s gaze. Her voice carried sentiments left unspoken. “The world doesn’t stop for loss. It keeps moving, and so must we. I had made a promise to their mother, and i kept it. I brought them up and did my best to make them happy.”

 

“We can see it,” another handmaid said. “Resilience is no small feat, many would have crumbled. Do not sell yourselves short.”

 

“We had each other,” Valentine said simply. He glanced at Mer and Jeon-e, a rare vulnerability softening his sharp features. “If not for that… who knows?”

 

The pool began to ripple again, and the wolves tensed, waiting to see what new awful memory it would reveal next. But instead of a memory, the water stilled, its reflective surface returning to an undisturbed state. It seemed that the pool, for now, was finished with its revelations.

 

Jeon-e was the first to step out, water dripping off her fur as she shook herself. Her gaze was distant, as if she were still sifting through the emotions the memories had stirred.

 

“Cailu?” she asked, addressing the haedian who had remained on the sidelines for the whole thing.