Ailyn led Lord Eduardo down the hallway to Cassian's room, her steps light and quick. She pushed the door open, and Eduardo carefully lowered the boy onto the bed, moving with a gentleness that surprised her. Cassian stirred right away, his breathing starting to settle.
Mister Ezo had warned her about this. "Mutants bounce back faster than you'd think," he'd said, though he admitted he didn't expect Cassian to be in this state so soon.
Ailyn sighed, brushing a bit of silver hair from Cassian's forehead. "What am I gonna do with you?" she murmured, running her fingers through his hair in a soft, lazy rhythm. "Feels like every day you're finding a new way to get hurt." She kept at it until his breathing evened out and he drifted off.
She stepped into the hallway and headed toward the kitchen, where she spotted Eduardo sitting at the table. His dark eyes met hers as she crossed the room. "I'm sorry, Lord Eduardo," she said, glancing around nervously. "I don't have anything to offer you right now, but if you're willing to wait, I can cook something."
Eduardo smiled, and for a second he looked almost shy. "No need to worry, Ailyn. I have to head home anyway—my father's asked for my help with something. But thanks for offering. Maybe next time?"
"Oh, of course," she said quickly, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Just let me know in advance so I can be prepared."
"Yeah, I will."
An awkward silence settled between them. Ailyn shifted on her feet. "Um… are you heading out now?"
"Yeah, sorry." Eduardo stood up, his chair scraping against the floor. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"See you," she murmured.
And just like that, he was gone, leaving a quiet emptiness behind him.
Ailyn finally let herself breathe. It wasn't that Eduardo made her nervous exactly—she didn't feel uncomfortable around him. But every time she caught herself looking his way, something about him made her heart skip. Maybe it was because he was important—a future knight, after all. Or maybe it was something else she couldn't quite put her finger on.
She shook her head. No time to dwell on that. She had work to do. She might have gotten away from her parents' iron grip, but her duties hadn't gotten any easier. Taking care of Cassian was no joke. But she wasn't about to give up. This was her fight, the least she could do for the boy who'd given her a reason to keep going.
_ _ _
The flame danced in the dark, its pure white color radiating power and heat. And although powerful, it was meaningless—the dark was too vast, overwhelming, all-powerful. It didn't matter how hard the light tried to fight, how much effort it put in to survive—death was inevitable. It always found a way. Death was a patient stalker, always waiting, never running thin. For some, it came quickly—a merciful, painless death—but for others, it enjoyed their demise, bringing agonizing pain in the last breaths of their mundane life.
Cassian didn't really get why the flames grew weaker over time as the darkness crept in, but when it finally came—the end—somehow the flame didn't want to die. It pushed everything it had into burning just a little longer. Was it because of fear? Or just the will to stay alive a bit more?
He got up from his bed and looked around the lifeless room. The world had lost its color; everything seemed dull and washed out. Cassian had gotten used to that. He walked through the house and reached the front door. When he opened it, the last of the flames were snuffed out, like it was no big deal. It was natural. Their mistake was even trying to fight in the first place.
He was standing on top of the water tank now, staring at his reflection in the water. His face looked innocent, round, and soft, but his eyes were dead—no light in them at all. Something had changed, and even though he didn't know exactly what it was, he knew it was important.
That wasn't the only thing that had changed. It was the way he thought too—like he had knowledge from a grown-up mind. It made him feel weird in his own body—so small, so young, so… weak. And the worst part was the darkness. It felt like it was pressing down on him, trying to kill him. It was hard to breathe, hard to move, and for the first time, it was hard to see.
He felt like giving up. The memories of that man were still sharp in his mind—the people he'd lost, the ones he'd loved, and the life he'd had. All gone, snuffed out. Cassian didn't even know if he was still alive, but it felt like he probably wasn't.
What had happened to Ellen? Had the man inherited the Eyes of God? He wanted to know. But he probably wouldn't get any answers.
Time passed but he didn't feel tired, so he stayed outside for a while, fighting with the vast void, when a thought came to his mind: the thought of his last breath. How would he die? If he had to guess, it would probably happen in the middle of the night, surrounded by darkness, with nobody by his side. Not because he wouldn't have family or people he cared for—it wasn't that.
It was just that he could see it so clearly: when he died, there would be nothing around him.
Nothing.