"It's already winter…"
Ra looked up at the sky with a faint, distant sadness before turning back toward his cabin, a bag full of scavenged food slung over his shoulder.
Walking through the forest in this kind of weather was usually a bad idea, but for Ra—a resident of the woods—it was just another day.
Dead trees. Frozen animals. Snow, endless snow.
He had grown used to it all.
All except—
"…Huh? Hey! Are you okay?!"
About five hundred meters from his home, Ra spotted a young man lying in the snow.
He rushed to the stranger's side and quickly checked for a heartbeat, breathing, visible wounds—anything.
But everything seemed… normal.
"Ugh… I'm… gry…"
"What?" Ra leaned in closer.
"I'm… hungry…"
"Pfft"
Ra let out a short, involuntary laugh, his tension melting just slightly.
"Can you stand?"
"Yeah…"
Without another word, Ra lifted the young man onto his shoulders and carried him home.
Ra's house was a modest log cabin with simple furnishings: a table with three chairs, two beds, a couch beside the fireplace, and a worn carpet spread across the floor. Cozy. Lived-in.
He laid the stranger on the couch, lit the fire, and began boiling meat and mushrooms. Once ready, he handed over a bowl.
As the young man ate, Ra sat across from him and asked the basics:
Who are you?
Why were you out in the snow?
Are you alone?
The young man paused before answering, tilting his head slightly.
"I don't remember."
Ra paused before sighing and smiled wryly.
"Take it easy for now, then. Just focus on resting. Is there anything you want to do?"
The young man thought for a moment. Then, suddenly, his eyes lit up.
"I want to build a log house!"
And so, for the next five months, the two of them worked.
They chopped wood, shared meals, swapped stories, and slowly built a new log cabin at the spot where Ra had first found the boy.
They became friends. Maybe even family.
But as time passed, the young man began to change. A strange illness took hold—his legs turned black first, then the discoloration slowly crept upward, bringing sharp, unbearable pain.
Ra did everything he could. Medicine. Healing salves. Painkillers. But none of it could stop the spread.
As the disease worsened, the young man could no longer help with building. Ra took on everything: foraging, cooking, crafting, nursing, construction. All of it. Alone.
And finally—after months of work—the log cabin was complete.
But by then, the young man's entire body had turned black, save for his face.
He could no longer move. Barely breathe. And the pain had reached an inhuman level.
Ra carried him on his back, running with everything he had, straight toward the finished cabin.
He burst through the door, gently letting the young man down so he could see the place clearly.
A wide window with curtains. Empty flower pots on the sill. Bookshelves. A large table with six chairs. A sofa. A single bed.
Nothing like his original home. And yet—
The warmth felt the same.
The young man blinked. Suddenly, the scenery changed.
He was younger now—ten years old, maybe. He saw his family sitting around a fire, playing together. His grandmother sat on the bed, reading.
She flipped a page and looked up.
"Come here, sweetheart."
The others looked at him too, smiling. Calling him.
"Ah… I'm coming!!!"
And just like that—he was gone.
"...May you have a happy rest."
Ra bowed his head, then gently tucked the boy's now-empty body into bed.
He was dead.
Truth was… he'd always been dead.
What Ra had found in the snow wasn't truly alive. It was a soul, given form one last time. A revenant created by Arkein to find peace before passing on.
A zombie—but not the kind that hunts.
One that mourns.
Ra, bearer of the Black Crown of Grieves, the King of Tombs, had guided another soul to rest.
That was his duty. No matter the race—human or demon.
"O' great Arkein… why must you burden me so…?"
Ra fell to his knees, claws digging into the snow.
Each time, he had to witness the soul's final memory. Each time, he was left behind.
"Just why…"
He trembled, alone in the snow.
And the snow kept falling.