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One person.
Luka only wanted one person back.
How could've everything gone so wrong with one person?
They still remembered the day like it was yesterday. Despite their memories getting worse and worse which each passing... day? week? They couldn't tell, and frankly, why would they care? The flock was stuck here anyway.
And Luka was stuck leading them to their grave.
They'd been as careful as possible to protect the flock. They couldn't forgive themselves if more were lost, and yet, more were lost.
And with that stupid spirit, lingering outside the village, drawing death closer and closer, Luka had tried to ward that spirit off, but yet, it persisted on haunting the flock, or more specifically, Luka themself.
"Why?"
And the kids- Vann and Phemer and Ende; so stupidly curious, always asking questions, so many questions, questions Luka could never answer.
And with that blood-cursed spirit, Ende's questions had turned to magic, something Luka knew all too much about, and then Wolfe's knowing glances- it was starting to piss them off.
And with these new night terrors, they couldn't sleep anymore, instead making trips down to the oasis, and staring at that gravestone, the one stupid mistake that started this snowstorm, the one time they tried to actually step out of line, to do something, they started this never-ending winter, this frozen hell that the flock now called home.
And now others were here, digging around in the past, looking for secrets, looking for history that Luka had kept safely buried under the bottomless snowdrifts. They didn't mind Vesta, not that much anyway; she kept the tree happy. But that *other* one... they couldn't stay. Luka couldn't let them. They'd find out about what Luka did... and then the children would remember, and then the flock would descend into chaos.
All of this, for one mistake.