Luminous white particles flickered into existence, dancing through the air until they coalesced upon Astor's back, weaving themselves into a pair of pristine, ivory wings. With a powerful beat, Astor soared upward, nearly brushing against the glass ceiling that held back the weight of the overhead waters.
Looking down at Honest, Astor raised his right hand. "Cleanse the impure blood with your mercy," he incanted. A brilliant, bluish-white radiance flooded the hall as energy gathered in his palm. "Redemption!"
Honest merely maintained his smile, eyes closed in a serene mask. "Speak forgotten truth," he murmured, and golden motes erupted around him. "Break your silence." White lilies bloomed across the cold floor of the hall. "Justice!"
Astor unleashed the gathered light. The projectile streaked through the air like a falling star, only to be met by a translucent golden veil shimmering around Honest. The impact ignited a violent spray of blue and gold sparks.
BOOM!
The collision nullified both spells, leaving nothing but fading glimmer behind. Astor beat his wings, his voice trembling with indignation. "Truly, you have crossed the line!"
Honest slowly opened his eyes. "Was it not you, Great-Grandfather, who taught me to strive until I surpassed my own limits?"
Astor spread his arms, his wings glowing with renewed intensity. "You were always a master of wordplay."
Honest offered a wordless, enigmatic smile.
"Give your kindness to the worthy," Astor chanted. His wings shattered into a flurry of bioluminescent feathers. "Guidance!"
The feathers swirled into a vortex, acting like a vacuum that pulled every lily petal on the floor into its center. The cyclone surged toward Honest, static blue lightning crackling between the feathers.
Honest sighed. "Brush off your vanity," he whispered. The lilies transformed into tiny white orbs, suspended in the air. "Truth!"
The orbs wove themselves around Astor's vortex, tightening like a constrictor.
CRACK! BOOM!
A thunderous roar shook the foundation of the hall. The vortex detonated, sending feathers fluttering downward like down from a burst pillow. They scattered across the floor, slowly dissolving into nothingness.
"You constantly collide truth with falsehood," Astor glared down from his height. "Crafting whatever narrative suits your whims."
Honest rubbed the nape of his neck casually. "Grandfather, I am simply doing my best. Is it a sin for one to perform their duties optimally?"
"It is mere deception," Astor exhaled sharply. "And you have become far too proficient in it."
"Does Great-Grandfather not understand my mandate? In truth, I am only fulfilling what has been decreed for me."
"You twist destiny into your own convenience!"
Honest took a step forward. "I harbor no ill intent, and surely you know that, don't you?"
"Never changing..." Astor muttered.
A heavy silence descended before a white sphere began to form, its light drowning out the hall. "For your happiness, may blessings shine upon your heart," Astor intoned. The sphere grew rapidly, swelling from the size of a ball to a massive globe that towered over Honest.
"Repentance..."
Honest's body was pulled forward; the sphere acted like a localized black hole, dragging everything into its shimmering event horizon. Honest braced his feet, taking a deep breath. "For the past is beyond change, and the future beyond reach, let the present be for action. Courage!"
SHATTER!
A deafening sound, like a mountain of glass breaking, rang out. The white sphere fractured and collapsed, its shards dissolving before they even struck the floor.
Astor clenched his fists. "Even in duty, there is a decorum—a morality—that must be upheld."
Honest took another step. "And what of you, Great-Grandfather?"
Astor's eyes widened, cold and sharp. "You go too far."
"I only wish for you to understand me. Nothing more, nothing less."
"Understand? It sounds more like a demand to my ears."
Honest gave a thin smile. "In the end, you never truly desired my perspective."
"Remarkable, Honest. You lie as naturally as you breathe."
"Great-Grandfather, I—"
"Enough. The more you speak, the more the deception pours from your silver tongue."
Honest fell silent, bowing his head and clutching his chest.
"Look at you," Astor spat. "Even now, you paint me as the oppressor."
Honest looked up, a smile returning to his face. "I truly did not mean it that way..."
Astor sighed, his spirit weary. "Let the brine of the sea serve as my ink." Above them, the water behind the glass ceiling turned pitch black, plunging the hall into a dim, eerie twilight. "Leaves unto vellum," he continued.
Outside the manor, green leaves withered into brown and drifted to the ground.
"Historia."
Honest was thrown back as if by a physical gale, tumbling across the floor. Astor bit his lip, watching his great-grandson lie sprawled on the ground.
Honest's breath came in ragged gasps; his clothes were torn, his limbs scraped and bleeding.
Yet, slowly, Honest stood. "Are you satisfied now?"
Astor touched the floor softly. "My satisfaction lies in your change of heart."
"And you know that is impossible."
"You are stubborn."
"At least," Honest countered weakly, "I did not resort to violence."
Astor's hand trembled; he balled it into a fist. "Let your pain serve as a reminder."
"Then I shall remember a great-grandfather who raised his hand against his own kin."
Astor was stunned into silence. Honest turned away, dragging his feet toward the exit. "I only came to say that Master Aidin has begun to stir from his long slumber."
"Aidin, huh..." Astor whispered. He watched Honest's retreating back, his heart heavy. Why did you just take it? he thought.
As the doors closed, a single tear escaped Astor's eye. "Why must he always choose the extreme path?"
***
Outside, Hextor rushed to Honest's side. "Young Master! Are you alright?"
Honest nodded. "Hextor, go to him. I fear I have angered him once again."
Hextor looked at Honest's battered state. "But your body..."
"It is of no concern. Go."
Hextor bowed and hurried into the hall. Honest exhaled, a sense of finality in his gaze. "In the end... my task here is done."
He pulled a golden feather from his pocket. As his grip tightened, the feather shattered into golden mist, and Honest vanished along with it.
***
"Inside the hall, Hextor approached Astor and noticed tear tracks on his cheeks. 'Master... are you hurt?"
Astor let out a hollow laugh. "Hurt? Is your sight failing you, Hextor?"
"My apologies."
Astor looked up at the ceiling, which had returned to its natural state. "How is he?"
"The Young Master..." Hextor hesitated.
"Speak truthfully."
"He is injured, Master."
Astor looked toward the spot where Honest had fallen. "I was the one who struck him. He didn't even fight back... I am a cruel man, aren't I?"
"I am certain the Young Master understands your intent," Hextor offered.
"Yes... he is rational to a fault. But I can never tell if he truly feels the sting of resentment. I only hope that one day, he meets someone who truly understands him."
Hextor smiled softly. "May your prayers and hopes be granted."
To be continued...