The Burden of a Name

The echoes of Kael's past still lingered in the air, his story a quiet weight on the group's shoulders. The fire crackled, its warmth a stark contrast to the cold realization that every one of them carried scars from their pasts.

Quinn Bellshade sat a little apart from the rest, his usual smug grin absent, his golden eyes reflecting the flames. He had laughed along earlier, teased Lyric, made lighthearted comments—but inside, something stirred. The talk of origins, of pasts that shaped them, struck a nerve he had buried deep.

He had spent years running from the past, from his name. From everything it meant.

"Quinn?"

Aria's voice pulled him back. She was watching him, concern in her gaze. Kael, Finn, and Lyric had settled in for a brief rest, but Aria lingered, noticing what the others hadn't.

"You're being quiet," she said softly.

Quinn smirked, the expression automatic. "You say that like it's a bad thing. Maybe I'm just feeling introspective. Mysterious."

"Or maybe," Aria countered, sitting down beside him, "you're thinking about something you don't want to."

For once, he didn't have a clever response.

The night pressed in around them, and despite the fire, the cold gnawed at the edges of Quinn's thoughts. Maybe it was time. Maybe it was unavoidable.

He let out a breath and leaned back, eyes staring at the night sky. "You ever wonder," he murmured, "if the name you were born with is a curse?"

Aria tilted her head. "What do you mean?"

Quinn chuckled, but it was hollow. "My name—Bellshade—means something. Something I never wanted it to mean."

And just like that, the past rushed in.

---

Flashback...

The halls of Bellshade Manor were suffocating. Towering bookshelves lined the walls, shadows flickering from enchanted lanterns that never went out. The smell of old parchment and candle wax filled the air, but to young Quinn, the scent was as oppressive as the expectations placed upon him.

His father, Lord Evander Bellshade, sat at his desk, writing with sharp, precise strokes. He didn't look up. He rarely did.

"Again."

Quinn's fists clenched at his sides. His arms ached, his legs trembled, but he dared not refuse.

He picked up the dagger from the cold marble floor. The weight of it felt heavier than before. Across from him stood another boy, a servant's son, trembling as much as he was. They had been told to fight until one of them could no longer stand.

It was always like this. Training, discipline, proving oneself.

Bellshade blood did not waver. Bellshade blood did not break.

Quinn hesitated, looking at the boy. He didn't want to do this. He didn't want to hurt him.

"Quinn," his father's voice was a knife. "Strike."

He swallowed the lump in his throat and stepped forward.

---

Later that night, his mother found him in the library, curled up in the shadows between the bookshelves. Lady Bellshade was the only warmth in this cold house, but even she couldn't shield him from everything.

"You don't have to be like him," she whispered, brushing his hair back. "You don't have to be what he wants you to be."

Quinn clutched her sleeve, a silent plea.

But they both knew—if he defied his father, there would be consequences.

---

Quinn never wanted power. He never wanted the weight of the Bellshade name.

But defiance came at a cost.

The night he tried to run, his father found him first. The punishments weren't physical—Bellshades were too refined for that. No, his father wielded words like blades, cutting deep where no wound could heal.

"You are a disgrace to this family."

"You will never be worthy of the Bellshade name."

"You think you can run from who you are?"

The worst part? For a long time, Quinn believed him.

And then—one night changed everything.

---

The fire had spread too fast. One moment, the estate stood in cold, cruel elegance. The next, flames devoured everything in sight. Servants ran, panicked screams filled the halls, and Quinn stood frozen in the courtyard, watching his past burn.

His mother had been inside.

His father, too.

And as the roof collapsed, as embers rained like stars, Quinn Bellshade made a choice.

He walked away.

Not as the heir to the Bellshade name. Not as the son of a cold tyrant.

Just Quinn.

---

Back to the Present

Quinn hadn't realized he had gone silent for so long until Aria gently touched his arm.

"You don't have to say more," she murmured.

He blinked, realizing his hands had clenched into fists. He exhaled shakily and forced a smirk, though it wavered at the edges. "Wow. That was a lot heavier than I intended. I was going for 'tragic rogue with a mysterious past,' but I think I overshot it into 'walking emotional crisis.'"

Aria smiled sadly. "It explains a lot, though."

"What, my devilish charm?"

"Your need to never be serious," she countered. "You don't want people to see the real you."

Quinn shrugged. "The real me is overrated."

Aria didn't laugh. She just looked at him like she saw him, and something about that was more terrifying than anything else.

A rustling sound behind them made Quinn shift, grateful for the distraction. Finn was mumbling in his sleep, something about food. Kael remained still, while Lyric had her back turned to them, but Quinn could tell she had been listening.

She always listened.

Quinn sighed, standing up. "Well, that was fun. Now, let's never speak of it again."

Aria stood as well, shaking her head with a small laugh. "You know that's not going to happen, right?"

He grinned, back to his usual self. "What, me? Avoiding emotional confrontation? Never."

Aria rolled her eyes. "Come on, let's get some sleep before Finn starts talking in his dreams again. I don't think I can handle another midnight monologue about pastries."

Quinn smirked, following her back toward the others. But as he lay down, staring at the flickering flames, he realized something.

For the first time in a long time, he didn't feel like he was running.

Not from his past. Not from his name.

Just maybe—he was finally where he was supposed to be.

---

Elsewhere…

Lyric sat by the fire, pretending to read, though her mind was far from the words on the page.

Quinn Bellshade was an enigma. A constant source of irritation, chaos, and unexpected wisdom.

And now, he was a puzzle she wasn't sure she wanted to solve.

The fire crackled, and a smirk tugged at her lips.

Of course, knowing Quinn, he'd try to flirt his way out of any real discussion.

And she would make sure to remind him that it wouldn't work.

…At least, not yet.