books44 Chapter 371 [Empire] The Candle Bear My Mom Gave Me
Chapter 371 [Empire] The Candle Bear My Mom Gave Me
The flames gradually died down, and the figures of the black candle beasts vanished into the pitch-black night like smoke dispersed by the wind. The air no longer held the scent of burning heat, replaced by an eerie, empty silence, as if the entire world had been emptied out. However, a faint glow still lingered on the ground.
I looked down and saw the wax bear, a faint flame, slowly inching toward the girl's feet. Its body was gently melting, a thin stream of wax oozing from its surface, but the flame hadn't completely extinguished, as if its vitality still clung to it. The bear seemed to have been born from the flames, its tiny body barely larger than the tip of the girl's shoe. Its wax surface was smooth and translucent, and the burning flame danced within it, faint but warm.
The girl's eyes remained blank, as if she hadn't fully recovered from the shock. She looked down at the little bear at her feet, her eyes void of fear or alarm, instead revealing a subtle tenderness. The bear slowly crawled to her feet, stretched out a tiny paw, and gently embraced her leg. The firelight still flickered, dancing on its tiny body.
"Mom..." the girl whispered softly, her voice hoarse and hollow, as if she was talking to the little bear.
Her hand trembled as she reached out to the little bear and gently stroked its head. The faint firelight illuminated the tear marks on her face. Her eyes seemed a little confused, but also contained an indescribable sense of relief.
I stood there, watching all this silently. The little girl finally stopped crying, as if her heart had been comforted at that moment. The little bear seemed to sense her emotions, trembling slightly and hugging the girl's legs with its tiny paws tighter.
"She is no longer alone." Nightingale stood beside me and whispered.
I nodded, the heaviness in my heart gradually easing. Though the little girl still looked lost, she was no longer trapped by her obsession. At least she had found some solace in this moment. That little bear, it didn't seem malicious, but rather a manifestation of something buried deep within the girl's heart, like her deep belief and expectation in her mother's promise. It seemed as if the little bear had taken something away from her. It was like a sustenance for her lost soul, and with the faint light of a fire, it tried to soothe the wounds in her heart.
"She'll be fine," I whispered, my voice almost swallowed by the darkness.
Nightingale did not respond, but just stood there silently with a complicated look in her eyes.
Growth doesn't always mean moving forward; sometimes, it also means learning to let go.
Let go of those invisible burdens, let go of those suffocating expectations, let go of those pains ignited by candlelight. Only by letting go can you go further.
The girl finally raised her head from the bear and looked around in confusion. Her eyes finally brightened, but still held a hint of emptiness. She slowly let go of the bear, stood up, and slowly walked towards me, though her movements were slow.
"Who are you..." she asked softly, with confusion and a sense of strangeness in her voice.
I squatted down, smiled, stretched out my hand, and patted her head gently: "I'm Yang Ruyuan, I'm here to help you today." My voice was gentle and firm, hoping to bring her some comfort.
She paused for a moment, as if she understood what I said. Then, she lowered her head to look at the bear, her lips moving slightly as if she were about to say something, but nothing came out. Her eyes grew calmer. Though still a little lost, she was clearly no longer the tormented, frantic little girl.
"Thank you..." she said softly, her tone so soft it seemed unreal.
I stood up, turned to Nightingale and said, "Mission accomplished."
Nightingale nodded. Although her face remained expressionless, there seemed to be a hint of approval in her eyes: "You did a good job."
As the little girl's emotions gradually calmed, the surrounding darkness and flames slowly faded, and tranquility returned. The Black Candle Beast was no longer there, and the little girl who had once cried out to the flames seemed to be moving towards a new future.
Everything is finally over.
Yet?
"Is this your exotic animal? Little bear?" I squatted down and looked at the little girl at eye level.
The little girl nodded gently, a hint of confusion still in her eyes, as if she was still struggling to return to reality from the chaos just now. Her hand slowly reached out to the little bear, gently stroking its soft wax body, as if she was searching deep in her heart for a long-lost sense of security.
"It...was given to me by my mother." Her voice was low and hoarse, as if it came from far away. "My mother said that only if the candle is not extinguished can I wait for her to come back."
Her eyes grew hollow, her mouth slightly open, as if she were still repeating the words that had comforted her countless times. But she quickly regained some composure, looking away from the bear and up at me, a complex flash of emotion in her eyes. It was helplessness, but also a faint glimmer of hope.
"But it didn't go out." She murmured, her eyes slightly red. "It's always on. Mom... Will Mom really come back?"
My heart tightened as I recalled her cries. That longing and attachment for her mother, like a deep brand, was etched deep within her heart. And the little bear, perhaps, was her sustenance, the eternal flame between her and her mother.
I was silent for a moment, then squatted down, gently patted her shoulder, and tried to comfort her in a gentle tone: "Your mother must love you very much. Although we don't know where she is now, she must be somewhere, thinking of you and wanting to protect you. She is thinking of you and waiting for her."
The little girl's eyes widened slightly, as if she had heard a hint of hope in my words. She lowered her head, looked at the bear in her arms, raised her hands and gently held it, as if considering something, as if pondering her next move.
I paused and whispered, "You are not alone anymore. At least now, this little bear is with you. Remember, you can rely on it." My eyes unconsciously moved to the wax bear. Although it had melted a little, its eyes still flashed a faint light.
The girl's lips moved as if she wanted to say something, but in the end, nothing came out. She just quietly hugged the little bear, holding it tightly in her arms. That little comfort seemed to be the only warmth she could grasp at the moment.
The nightingale stood aside, silent. In the darkness, only our gentle breathing and the little girl's, and the faint light of the little bear's fire, still flickering, were the only sounds.
I stood up and whispered to Nightingale, "The mission is over. We can go now."
He nodded, said nothing more, and turned to lead me out. I looked back at the little girl, her back gradually disappeared into the darkness, still holding the little bear, as if it was her only support.
"Will she be okay?" I asked quietly, my voice a little muffled.
Nightingale looked at me with a deep gaze. "She will. Everyone has their own way of facing pain and finding their own light." He paused. "For some, it may take longer."
I didn't say anything else, just walked silently, even though my heart was still heavy.
The darkness gradually dissipated and the city returned to peace.