Days had turned into a silent and heavy cycle for Auren, where time lost all its meaning. That spacious room on the top floor of the manor had become both his sanctuary and a prison he had built within his own mind. Servants moved in and out like silent shadows at certain hours of the day. All of Auren's needs were met flawlessly; his tub was always filled with warm, scented water, clean clothes made of the softest fabrics were left at the foot of his bed, and the freshest, most delicious meals were laid out before him on silver trays. Yet, for Auren, the food had no taste, and the clothes held no warmth. The behavior of the people here was quite strange when viewed through the eyes of an innocent child. Everyone was extremely polite, attentive, and respectful toward him, but there was an invisible, thick wall between them; they were distant. No one spoke to him more than necessary, and they avoided eye contact, acting as if he were made of fragile glass or a magic that could explode at any moment.
In this silent and distant crowd, one person stood out completely: Aldric. With the deep scars on his face, the wrinkles ruthlessly carved by years, and his massive, imposing stature, Aldric was an old man terrifying enough to make one's blood run cold at first sight. However, Auren had realized very quickly that beneath this daunting appearance lay an incredibly kind, refined, and respectful soul. Aldric was Lady Yuria's oldest servant, having been by her side even longer than Aelrindel, Zirel, Lavinia, and Nythar. A single word falling from Yuria's lips was an unshakeable law of the universe for Aldric, a command that had to be executed. Yet, this was not slavery or blind obedience ; it was a perfect destiny that Aldric had chosen entirely of his own will and free choice, viewing it almost as an act of worship. Before leaving the room that night, Yuria had spoken only one sentence to the old man: "Take good care of the boy.". For Aldric, this was now the only reality in the world. He brought Auren's meals with his own hands, stood like a mountain outside the door until the boy fell asleep, and spoke in a compassionate tone that contrasted with his terrifying appearance whenever the child needed something.
However, neither Aldric's care nor the servants' flawless service was enough to draw Auren out of that room. Auren spent almost all of his days sitting on the ledge of the room's large, carved window. Pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around his legs, he watched the large stone courtyard of the manor below. In the courtyard were four children under Yuria's protection, their ages close to Auren's. All day long, they ran, shouted, and played games under that artificial but bright sky. As Auren watched them from behind the glass, he felt a strangeness within them that he could not yet name or describe. It was as if these four children were not just ordinary orphans; looking at them, Auren carried a strange feeling that his fate would cross paths with theirs in deep and dangerous ways in the future.
But he could not go out. He could not go down to join them, explore the corridors of the manor, or find Aelrindel or Nythar to ask questions. There was only one reason he did not want to leave the room: Fear. Physically, he had healed; the fatal hole in his chest had closed, but his mind was still bleeding in the mud of that dark forest. The moment he lowered the door handle, he felt as if Darven Solmar would be waiting for him there. At night, he woke up from nightmares in a cold sweat, reliving the pain of the sword that tore through his chest over and over again. The screams of Lysera, being dragged toward the capital and tortured, would not leave his ears. The reality that Kaelrin would fight shoulder to shoulder with his family's killers, believing those poisonous lies and turning into an enemy, crushed his heart. And Sira and Thalos... their lifeless, mud-stained faces were sealed behind Auren's eyelids. He hid under the blankets at night and cried for hours. He worried for his family and was devastated by his losses, but this intense pain, instead of strengthening him, had chained him to his bed. The door of the room was the boundary of that ruthless reality in the outside world for Auren, and he was not yet brave enough to face it. The dark shadow within him was asleep, and for now, he was just a scared, little boy.
Auren was again perched on the window ledge, knees pulled to his chest, watching the courtyard below. The rain had stopped, and a soft, warm light began to shine in the artificial sky. At that moment, the heavy, carved oak door of the room opened silently. First, a familiar, warm chuckle seeped into the room , followed by the appearance of Nythar's usual cheerful and relaxed silhouette. Right behind him, Zirel glided into the room like a cold wind. With orange hair falling over her shoulders, Zirel's black eyes were dull; her face held an expressionless, serious stance as if carved from marble. Nythar whispered, referring to the old servant at the door, "Bypassing Aldric was truly a deadly mission, but fortunately, Zirel's deathly glares were enough to freeze even the old man for a moment.". Zirel only rolled her eyes but did not say a word.
Auren turned toward them without getting down from the ledge. His heart had sped up slightly, but Nythar's warm smile had instantly dispersed the heavy, gloomy atmosphere in the room. Nythar sat comfortably at the foot of Auren's bed and stretched his legs. "Well, little warrior? What are you planning by watching the outside from behind this glass all day? If you're making plans to conquer the world, let us know so we don't get caught off guard.". Auren swallowed slightly and lowered his eyes to his hands. "I'm not... making plans. I'm just watching.". Trying to steady his voice, he looked up and asked, "Why are you here? I mean... Lady Yuria is very scary. How can you stay so loyal to her? Are you like her too?". Nythar let out a loud, hearty laugh that was so sincere Auren felt himself relax slightly instead of being startled. "Lady Yuria scary? Ah, kid... you're right, even I am deathly afraid of her sometimes!". He leaned forward as if sharing a big secret. "But she just doesn't like unnecessary things. She doesn't like lies, weakness, or begging for mercy. We are by her side because she is the very essence of the only true justice in this world. We are a family. A strange, sometimes annoying, but unbreakable family.". Zirel, leaning gracefully against the wall by the door with her arms crossed, watched Auren with her dull black eyes. Without a hint of emotion in her voice, she interjected, "You don't need to be afraid of her. The ones you should fear are outside.".
Auren shrugged his shoulders slightly at Zirel's flat, icy tone. From the outside, Zirel looked like a cold, emotionless killing machine. However, in reality, a completely different storm was raging inside her mind. Her eyes were locked onto Auren's helpless, sad state and his slightly messy silver hair. She thought to herself, 'He looks so innocent and small... just like a shivering kitten left in the rain. And his hair looks so fluffy...'. Zirel's fingers, which were clutching her arms, twitched slightly. Her massive weakness for cute things had awakened. 'What would happen if I went and stroked his head? Just once... No, it won't do,' she thought, panicking. 'Look at this sour face of mine. He'll definitely be afraid of me. If I make the kid cry, Nythar will tease me for a century. Better to just stand here like a statue. Damn it, why does he have to be so cute?'.
Meanwhile, Nythar, noticing Auren was still tense, got up from the bed and walked toward the ledge beside the boy. "What about the children below?" Auren asked, turning his eyes back to Nythar, avoiding looking at Zirel. "Who are they? Why are they here?". Nythar reached out his large, warm hand and placed it on Auren's silver hair. He gently ruffled the boy's hair like an affectionate older brother. Auren was about to flinch at first, but the warm, protective feeling of Nythar's hand calmed him. "They are like you," Nythar said in a soft voice. "Those plucked from the ruthlessness of the world. But don't worry, you'll meet them all when the time comes.". Auren blinked slightly at the warmth of the large hand on his head. For the first time in days, he felt as if he had found a small, safe island in that deep ocean of fear. Zirel, meanwhile, stood frozen in place. Seeing Nythar ruffle Auren's hair, she was fighting a great battle to keep the explosion of jealousy and affection from showing on her face. 'Nythar, you're messing up the boy's hair with those huge hands! Ah, look how he closed his eyes... so cute. Just once. If I could just touch him once...'. Zirel took a deep breath and, without breaking her expressionless face, broke the silence in the room: "If you decide to go down and meet them," Zirel said, her voice still flat and cold but her words carefully chosen, "I can help you steal cookies from the kitchen. Lavinia is bad at it; she always gets caught.". Nythar widened his eyes in surprise at this unexpected offer and let out another loud laugh. As for Auren, hearing Zirel talk about "stealing cookies" with that serious, dull face, he felt a tiny, faint smile at the corners of his lips for the first time behind the dark mask that had settled over him for days.