Bright, so incredibly bright.
In just a second, the deep gloom that previously soaked the room was replaced by an unbearable white flash.
Kona had never felt so bad. In his head, thoughts of death, danger, fear, and another multitude of emotions raged and fought, making him sick. Furthermore, that sudden shine had him completely blinded.
The little boy was now left unable to think, unable to move, unable to see.
Then, all of a sudden, just as Kona was fighting to get up, reaching for the wall with his hand, a sound erupted in that bright, yet dark room.
A petrifying scream.
A boy's voice.
Gunn's voice.
His friend, now invisible to him, was screeching uncontrollably.
It wasn't just a call for help.
That sound, coming deep from his gut, was pain, pure, undeniable, unprecedented pain.
And then, in just an instant, it was gone, and the room fell silent again.
Kona's hand had reached the wall, and was now gripping the uneven, mossy bricks, as if those could somehow protect him from that.
He felt the cold stone under his fingertips. Then, another cry erupted.
This one, it was different. A girl's voice, desperately yelling, painfully whispering to the heavens and hoping she'd be heard. But from above, no one seemed to answer, and Layla's voice was no more.
Kona gulped, and his mind started to fade, as the cold bricks on his fingertips slowly vanished: the bright blindness gradually disappeared, leaving room for a pitch-black darkness, as the boy fainted.
----
Plink.
Plink.
A small droplet - water, probably - fell on his nose. In the dark, the boy could hardly make out the shape of the moss which covered the ceiling's stone.
Kona was lying in the obscure chamber, his back freezing against the biting floor.
Blinking slowly, the white-haired boy's vision adjusted.
That blinding light was gone, and his head was now feeling slightly better. However, he probably hadn't realized this before, but his body was extremely weak. Writhing on the stone floor, his back cracked, and his shoulders felt extremely heavy - and wet.
Kona, while trying to get up, slowly turned his head to the side.
He didn't know this yet, but the sight he'd be presented with in that moment, he'd never forget it.
The picture of his two best friends, lying on the floor of some forgotten ruins in the woods, drenched in a red liquid, cold and frozen in fear.
The image of the floor, now a lake of blood.
The figure of those two little corpses, massacred and slaughtered, silent and dead.
His face was paler than ever, and his eyes remained still in the void.
The cheerful boy was now overwhelmed. He couldn't speak, he couldn't move, he couldn't think. Everything felt empty, still, as if that wave of dreadful terror had washed it all away.
As he began shaking uncontrollably, Kona tried to get up. However, on the wet floor, his rushed, shaky steps betrayed him. The kid slipped, landing in that red pool.
He was wet, stained, cold, hurt.
As his world kept falling down, Kona got up again, gripping the walls, and rushing up the stairs.
The steps, the door, the woods - the boy ran and ran, and when his joints creaked and his legs screamed, he kept running.
You see, in that moment, that kid's brain had completely shut off. Not being able to digest or comprehend the scene he'd witnessed, in an act of self-protection, his reasoning ability was completely suppressed, and now only one mission was relevant to him: find his parents. It is in a kid's instinct, when in trouble, to ask the ones he trusts the most.
The forest was flowing around him, as Kona flew past ancient trees, diving among bushes and branches, falling, eating dirt, getting up and stumbling again. In a state of complete confusion, he just ran.