The bell rang, and the courtyard of Ember Hollow Academy burst into life — laughter, shouts, and the clatter of footsteps echoing through the stone halls.
But Aslan Veil walked alone.
As always.
Hands shoved deep in the pockets of his worn-out jacket, Aslan kept his head low, dark hair falling over his eyes. The other kids didn't even try to be quiet about it anymore.
"There goes the fatherless wonder."
"Must be nice not having a dad to disappoint."
"Maybe his dad saw him and ran for the hills!"
The words stung. They always did. But Aslan had mastered the art of pretending they didn't. His lips curled into that same crooked, sarcastic smile — the one he wore like armor.
"Yeah, real funny," he muttered under his breath, pushing past them.
The truth? He didn't know a thing about his father.
Not his name. Not his face. Nothing.
It was like the man had never existed.
Whenever he asked his Grandfather Kael, the old man would just grunt, change the subject, or disappear into the workshop. And his mother, Lucia, always looked… sad when the topic came up. Sad, and tired.
But the other kids? They filled in the blanks with their own cruelty.
---
The taunts followed him home that day, clinging to him like smoke. His fists were clenched so tight, his nails dug into his palms. His jaw ached from grinding his teeth.
By the time he reached the small house at the edge of town, his chest burned — not with fire, but with something worse.
Shame. Anger. Hate.
He slammed the door behind him and stormed into the kitchen, where the smell of herbs and warm bread filled the air. His mother, Lucia, stood by the stove, her back to him, humming softly.
"Aslan?" Her voice was gentle, like always. "Everything alright?"
He froze.
For a second, he wanted to say yes. To plaster on that crooked smile and hide it all away, like usual.
But the words… they wouldn't come.
His vision blurred. His throat tightened. And before he could stop himself — before he could bury it like always — the dam broke.
Tears spilled down his cheeks. His shoulders shook.
"I—I hate it," he choked, voice cracking. "I hate them… I hate not knowing… Why… Why don't I have a dad like everyone else?"
Lucia turned, eyes wide with worry. In two steps, she was beside him, pulling him into her arms.
Her embrace was warm — like safety, like home — but it couldn't quiet the storm inside him.
"They laugh at me," Aslan whispered against her shoulder, voice breaking. "Every day… they say he left… that he didn't want me…"
Lucia's hands tightened gently on his back.
"Oh, Aslan," she murmured, pressing her forehead to his hair. "Your father… He didn't know."
Aslan pulled back, blinking through his tears. "What?"
Pain flickered in her eyes — deep, old pain. She brushed his tear-streaked cheek, her voice soft but steady.
"Your father didn't leave because of you," she whispered. "He never even knew you existed…"
His heart twisted, confusion and anger swirling like fire in his chest.
"What happened to him?"
Lucia hesitated. For a moment, it looked like she might tell him everything. But then… her gaze dropped to the floor.
"That's a story for another time," she said quietly.
But Aslan wasn't a little kid anymore.
And deep down… he knew that "another time" was coming sooner than anyone wanted.