13

The heavy thud of hooves echoed in the stillness, a rhythmic drumbeat that matched the weight in the air. The boy sat alone on Jin's horse, his small hands clutching the reins, his grip tightening and loosening as if holding on to something long lost. The horse moved forward, each step drawn by Alcor's steady hand on the bridle. He rode beside the boy, his eyes fixed ahead, though the distant look in them betrayed thoughts far away.

A week had passed in a blur, days and nights blurring together in a melancholic haze. Now they were finally returning home, though the word felt hollow in the boy's mouth. The survivors rode in a wide circle around them, keeping their distance, a silent respect mingled with the shared grief that weighed on them all. Their faces were drawn, their sorrow palpable, but unspoken.

Aria led the procession, her posture rigid atop her horse, the familiar elegance of her form now a cold, distant thing. She didn't look back, yet the boy could feel the same heavy weight pressing down on her. A deep admiration stirred within him, tinged with an uncontrollable sense of fear toward the old woman who had faced not only the loss of a family member but had also clawed her way back from the edge of death.

The old woman was the linchpin of their success, her victory over the six rebel leaders singlehandedly turning the tide of battle. Her torn handkerchief was the only sign of the struggle she had endured, and with it, she had brought the enemy to their knees. Yet, despite the overwhelming victory, the air hung thick with mourning, the road ahead a bleak, endless stretch leading only back to the place where it had all begun.

The boy's gaze remained downward, fixed on the reins in his hands, on the saddle that was not his, on the void where someone should have been. Alcor's silent presence beside him offered a small comfort, though it felt distant, unreachable. The past week's events weighed heavily on them all, a shroud of sorrow that even the rhythmic thud of hooves couldn't break.

As the manor's roof slowly rose from the horizon, a knot tightened in the boy's stomach, the emotions he had kept at bay beginning to well up. Even the fox perched atop his head seemed to share his dread, her fluffy ears drooping at the thought of delivering the news to his family.

"HEYYYYYY!!!" Allie's familiar voice rang out from the distance, making the boy flinch. His eyes squeezed shut, not wanting to face his sister with the news of their uncle's death. Alcor noticed the boy's reaction and heaved a sigh, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"I'll talk to her," he whispered, riding ahead with the boy, passing Aria, who glanced at him with a somber nod as if wishing him strength for what was to come. The boy shook his head, keeping it hung low, even when they stopped in front of the manor's gates where Cynthia was waiting.

"Hmmm? Where's the old man?" Allie asked as she helped the boy down from the horse, her eyes turning to Alcor. The man bit his lip, struggling with the words, but the slow shake of his head was enough to convey the truth.

Cynthia's eyes dropped to the ground in silent mourning as she pulled the boy into her arms, holding him close. He buried his face against her neck, bracing himself for Allie's reaction. It didn't take long for her voice to break under the weight of the news.

"You're kidding, right?" she asked, her voice weak, as she walked toward Alcor with slow, uncertain strides. She grabbed his collar, tears streaming down her cheeks without her knowing. Alcor clenched his jaw, guilt and regret etched into his features as he met her gaze.

"Stupid old man," Allie muttered, her voice quivering with a mixture of disdain, guilt, and sadness. "We... We were family... right? Even if we aren't related..." She sobbed, her head slowly leaning into Alcor's chest. He could do nothing but offer his shoulder as she broke down, her woeful cries tearing at the boy's heart.

---

The boy sat by the windowsill of his room, his gaze fixed on his trembling hand. The cold steel of the dagger seemed to cling to his flesh in his memory, the image of it sinking into Jin's thigh flashing before his eyes every time he blinked. At the time, it had been a matter of survival, but now, in the stillness, doubt crept in.

"He was family..." the boy whispered to the goddess curled up on his lap, both of their gazes locked on the waning moon in the dark-blue sky, its stars absent. "I felt that... he was genuinely happy teaching me, and that he was proud of me whenever I mastered what he taught. How... he was looking forward to what I'd be in the future."

"And... Big sis Allie, I... I was the one who held the dagger that pushed Uncle Jin off the cliff. How can I look her in the eyes when I made her cry?" He brought his hand up to his eyes, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall.

The goddess remained silent, knowing that nothing she could say would ease the young boy's burden. She simply curled up tighter on his lap, hoping her presence could provide some sense of comfort. The boy hugged her closer, his mind swirling with sadness, regret, guilt, and fear. Sadness for Jin, who had been a victim like himself; regret for not being able to reach out to the man who needed someone; guilt for the pain he had caused those he loved; and fear—fear that he would one day become like Jin, blind to the blessings he had as he focused on proving himself to those who had abandoned him.

The silence was broken by a soft knock on the door, which creaked open slowly. Alcor entered, his disheveled hair and somber smile masking emotions that were hard to read.

"You... didn't come down for dinner. Were you asleep?" the middle-aged man asked, closing the door behind him and taking a seat in front of the boy, who tore his gaze away from the moon to meet his eyes.

"Sorry, I... didn't feel like eating," he admitted, the thought of seeing Allie's forced smile twisting the knot in his stomach even tighter. Alcor sighed, nodding quietly as he leaned back against the window.

"You did great, on the mission," Alcor began, running a hand through his hair as he struggled to find the right words. "Without your help... I might have been injured or worse. So, thanks. Not just for helping me in the fight, but for... telling me what you knew."

The boy lowered his head as he heard the muttered wish that he had been wrong. He couldn't blame Alcor for feeling that way—he had wished the same, that his suspicions were just paranoia. But he had been right, and that knowledge now weighed even more heavily on him.

"About... Allie," Alcor drew a breath, placing a hand on the boy's head, though he didn't meet his eyes. "Don't worry about her. She's strong, and she loves you. She'd never blame you for what happened, and neither do I. You did what you thought was best for us, and I'm proud of you for it."

With those words, Alcor pushed himself up and placed an apple on the spot where he had been sitting. He ruffled the boy's hair, who looked up at him with a small, grateful smile.

"Also, I don't like how you threw yourself into danger like that just to help. You got lucky, but it was a sloppy decision." He reprimanded gently, and the boy flinched, averting his gaze, fully aware that a single mistake could have cost him his life.

"Seriously... First, you disappear for three days, then you come to me saying Jin was going to betray us, and you recklessly jump in to try and save me. You really have a knack for getting into troublesome business, huh?" Alcor sighed, but a faint smile tugged at his lips as he saw the boy's embarrassment. "So that's why I've decided to train you. If you're going to get into trouble, you should at least be able to defend yourself."

---

The next day, the goddess perched on the boy's head couldn't hide her disappointment as she stared at the towering stack of books in front of them. They had been woken early by Cynthia, who announced that today would be the first day of their training with Alcor. Both the boy and the goddess had been excited, only to be led to a hidden library within the manor, now forced to read through volumes upon volumes of dusty tomes.

Alcor, noticing their disheartened expressions, smirked as he placed yet another stack of books before them. "First lesson, son: knowledge is everything," he declared, gesturing to the rows of bookshelves behind them. The boy shivered, feeling a chill of dread run down his spine.