Mourning

Massimo was staring at Detai with sharp eyes as he laughed out loud as he tried to untie himself, but the rope was tight, and there was silence, and Detai's chest was bleeding from the arrow that went through his chest and fell near Massimo and, with a little strength, helped Massimo to untie him, and it was not long that Massimo was free but Detai was taking his last breath.

Massimo's breath came in ragged gasps as he cradled Detai's head in his lap, his hands pressing desperately against the wound in Detai's chest. Blood seeped through his fingers, warm and sticky, a stark reminder of the reality unfolding before him. Detai's eyes, once so vibrant with life, were dimming, his breath shallow and labored.

"Detai, stay with me," Massimo pleaded, his voice breaking. "You cannot leave me. We still have so much to do."

Detai's hand, trembling and weak, reached up to grasp Massimo's. "Massimo," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the roaring wind. "You must... finish this."

Tears streamed down Massimo's face, mingling with the blood on his hands. "I could not do this without you," he cried, his heartbreak with every word.

Detai's eyes softened, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips despite the pain. "You can. You have to. The world... depends on it."

With a final, shuddering breath, Detai's hand slipped from Massimo's grasp, falling lifeless to the ground. His eyes closed, the light within them extinguished.

"No!" Massimo's scream tore through the air, a primal cry of grief and rage. He clutched Detai's body to his chest, rocking back and forth as the weight of his friend's death settled over him like a suffocating shroud.

The world around him seemed to blur, the edges of reality fraying as his grief consumed him. He barely registered the cold, the darkness, the oppressive silence that followed. All he could see was Detai's face, all he could hear was the echo of his friend's final words.

Then, without warning, the world shifted. The mountains, the ward, Detai's lifeless body, all of it dissolved into a swirl of colors and light. Massimo felt himself being pulled, dragged away from the fantasy realm and thrust back into the stark, unforgiving reality of the real world.

He landed with a jolt, the hard surface of his office desk pressing into his chest. Papers flew everywhere, his computer monitor wobbling precariously. The sudden change in environment left him disoriented, his mind reeling from the transition.

"Massimo!" A voice cut through the haze, sharp and urgent. He looked up to see his coworker, Angela, standing beside him, her eyes wide with concern. "Are you okay?"

Massimo's heart pounded in his chest, the raw pain of Detai's death still fresh and searing. He felt as if a part of him had been ripped away, leaving a gaping void that threatened to consume him. "No," he gasped, his voice thick with emotion. "No, I am...am not..." Massimo whispered.

Angela's expression softened, her concern deepening. She reached out a hand, placing it gently on his shoulder. "What happened? You were shouting. It sounded like you were in pain."

Massimo struggled to find the words, the memory of Detai's final moments playing on an endless loop in his mind. "I... I...I lost someone," he said, his voice breaking. "Someone very important to me."

Angela's brow furrowed, her eyes searching his for understanding. "I am so sorry, Massimo. Was it someone close to you? Your wife?"

Massimo nodded, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. "Not her" he whispered. "The closest friend I've ever had."

Angela squeezed his shoulder, her touch grounding him, offering a semblance of comfort in the midst of his turmoil. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Massimo shook his head, tears spilling over his cheeks. "I do not think I can. Not yet."

Angela nodded, her expression compassionate. "That's okay. Just know that we're here for you, whatever you need."

As Angela stepped away, giving him space to collect himself, Massimo's thoughts drifted back to Detai. The memory of their final moments together, the sound of his friend's voice, the weight of his sacrifice, all of it weighed heavily on him. He felt an overwhelming sense of guilt, of helplessness, knowing that he had been unable to save Detai, unable to prevent his death.

He looked around the office, the mundane surroundings a stark contrast to the fantastical world he had just left. His colleagues were staring, their faces a mix of curiosity and concern. Massimo felt a wave of isolation wash over him, the disconnect between his experience and their reality creating an unbridgeable chasm.

"Massimo, why don't you take the rest of the day off?" His boss, Mr. Stevenson, appeared at his side, his voice gentle but firm. "Get some rest. We will manage here."

Massimo nodded numbly, his mind too clouded with grief to argue. He gathered his things, moving mechanically, his body on autopilot. As he left the office, the weight of Detai's death pressing heavily on his shoulders, he felt a deep sense of loss, not just for his friend, but for the world they had fought to protect.

He wandered the streets, his thoughts a whirlwind of memories and emotions. The surrounding city seemed to blur, the noise and bustle fading into the background as he relived the events of the past hours. He could still see Detai's face, still hear his final words, still feel the warmth of his blood on his hands.

Massimo found himself in a park, the quiet serenity a stark contrast to the turmoil within him. He sank onto a bench, his head in his hands, the weight of his grief finally breaking through his numb exterior. He sobbed, the tears flowing freely, his body shaking with the force of his emotion.

"Detai," he whispered, his voice choked with sorrow. I am so sorry. I should have been able to save you.

The wind rustled the surrounding leaves, a gentle, almost comforting sound. Massimo closed his eyes, letting the tears flow, letting himself feel the full weight of his loss. He thought of all the moments they had shared, the battles they had fought, the laughter, the camaraderie. Detai had been more than a friend; he had been a brother, a mentor, a guiding light in the darkest of times.

As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the park, Massimo felt a strange sense of peace. It was as if, in the stillness, he could feel Detai's presence, a comforting whisper in the wind, a warm embrace in the fading light.

"You were right," Massimo murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "I have to finish this...." Before Massimo could finish uttering, a strong grip on his mouth was covered with a piece of cloth with his head covered with a mask, and he lost consciousness.