Chapter 9 – The Selfish Shadow
The house was silent, yet a heavy presence lingered in the air.
The creature was still aggressive, still consumed by darkness, still lost in the selfish depths of its own misery.
Centaur stood beside it, offering light, patience, and quiet devotion.
But the creature… was occupied only with itself.
Its own pain.
Its own fear.
Its own darkness.
It didn't even notice Centaur's presence.
Centaur reached out slowly, his touch gentle.
"I know… you're afraid," he said softly.
But the creature pulled away, its eyes dark, its voice low and strained.
"Leave me… go away."
Centaur was tired, though he didn't realize it.
He endured every attack, every surge of anger, every wave of selfishness.
He gave his light… yet the creature never saw it.
Lost in its own suffering, it remained blind.
Centaur's presence—his light—became nothing more than a silent tool, unknowingly illuminating its world while slowly consuming him.
Night fell.
Centaur quietly stepped outside, searching for the moon flowers.
They bloomed in the darkness—hidden, delicate, yet strong… just like his soul.
The distant sound of the sea and the pale glow of the moon stood beside him like silent witnesses.
Inside, the creature sat alone.
Lost within its own misery, it never once noticed Centaur's exhaustion, his loneliness, or his endless patience.
It remained trapped in its darkness and selfishness.
Centaur was there for it…
But it never truly saw him.
Centaur gazed at the moon flowers in silence, letting their quiet glow renew his light.
"Every light… feeds another light someday," he whispered to himself.
Yet as he gave his light, he was unknowingly growing more tired.
Alone.
Burdened.
Yet never giving up.
That night, as the moon flowers seemed to fill the darkness, Centaur's light continued to shine quietly within the creature's shadow.
But with every step, the weight of that light grew heavier.
And still… the creature remained focused only on its own pain.
And Centaur knew—
This journey would be long.
But he would never give up.