Epilogue: The World He Left Behind

They never put his name in the paper.

There were rumors. Survivors spoke of him. The one who organized them. The one who stayed behind. The one who gave everything.

Some called him a myth.

Others called him a ghost.

But Marios—his little brother—knew better.

He sat on the steps outside their house, weeks later, holding Alex’s old gym bag. Inside were worn gloves. A torn hoodie. A cracked phone. That’s all they’d returned.

Their mother didn’t speak anymore. Their father sat in the garden every day, staring at the gate like he expected Alex to walk through it.

He never did.

The official reports said:

Name: Unknown
Age: 17
Status: Presumed deceased.
Last seen defending others.
Recovered postmortem. No ID found.
Body cremated as unidentified per protocol.
Local family ties unknown.

But Sofia knew the truth.

She had his name carved on a small stone, set near the shore where the boat had left the island.

ALEX
He lit the fire that saved us.

Sometimes, at night, Marios still dreamed of him.

Not as a hero. Not as a warrior.

But as a brother.

Leaning into the kitchen doorway, sweaty from training, rolling his eyes as Marios stole fries from his plate.

The world called him a ghost.

But to the ones he saved—

He was the reason they still lived.

The world didn’t end in fire or flood.

It ended with a seventeen-year-old boy who didn’t look away.