Helper.

Ezo's body tensed, his fist clenched with lethal precision, and his mind honed onto a singular, unwavering goal—kill the monster in front of him.

To an ordinary observer, the sudden shift in Ezo's demeanor would be unnatural, even frightening. But Ezo was not ordinary. He was a mutant, and for mutants, unpredictability was second nature. Unlike Cassian, whose expressions could flow through a spectrum of emotions, Ezo's were limited, dulled by the consequences of his transformation. He could go from beaming with a wide grin to a murderous glare in the span of a single breath.

I have to kill him.

The thought was sharp, absolute. A single strike would be enough. He shifted his stance, his arm coiling back, ready to release a devastating punch.

And then—he stopped.

Not because he hesitated. Not because he wanted to. His body stopped on its own.

The tension in his muscles faded, his killing intent vanished, but not by his own will. Something else was controlling him.

Before he could process the anomaly, his body tensed again, this time with the speed and ferocity he only ever used in battle. His muscles coiled, ready to lash out, but again—he stopped.

Pain flared through his limbs as his body fought itself. His nerves burned, his muscles trembled under the strain of commands being issued and revoked in an instant. He wasn't in control anymore.

Ezo was terrified.

The second time his body had lunged at Cassian, it hadn't been his doing, and the sudden halt wasn't his either. It felt like two forces were waging war within him—one determined to protect the boy and the other fixated on his destruction.

Rage flared in his chest. A primal, consuming fury. He wanted to tear, to rend, to break the boy standing in front of him. He had no reason. No justification. Just an unexplainable, violent urge.

He fought against it, but his body refused to obey.

Then, as suddenly as it had come, the anger dissipated. His limbs relaxed, his mind cleared, and the fog of rage evaporated like mist in the morning sun.

And the strangest thing?

He couldn't remember what had just happened.

The urge to kill, the overwhelming fury—it all faded like a dream slipping through his fingers. Every time he tried to recall those thoughts, a fog clouded his mind, blocking them from resurfacing.

Ezo stood there, smiling once again, his expression easy and casual as if nothing had happened. Cassian, oblivious to the battle that had just taken place inside Ezo, remained deep in thought.

The silence stretched between them before Cassian hesitantly asked, "So… can I ask my final question?"

Ezo tilted his head slightly, then gave a lazy shrug. "Sure, go ahead, kid. But this is your last one."

Cassian nodded. He hesitated for only a second before blurting out, "Why do the insides of your body look so weird?"

There was no malice in his voice, no hint of mockery. He was simply curious.

Ezo chuckled. "It's because I'm a mutant. And soon, your body might look like this too."

Cassian blinked. "What do you mean?"

Ezo studied him for a moment, then his expression turned unreadable. "If you choose the path of mutation, your strength will grow beyond what you can imagine. If you reach a certain level, you can heal your own wounds, never having to suffer the price of darkness again." He paused, then added, "A good deal, if you ask me. Of course, you'll lose your emotions, but once you start fighting battles, you won't need them."

Cassian frowned. "Battles? What do you mean?"

Ezo's grin faded. "I told you—that was your last question."

Without another word, he turned away, heading toward the small house behind them. He didn't glance back, didn't offer any more explanations. He simply stepped inside and shut the door.

Cassian stood there, his mind swirling with questions, yet none of them could find footing. Something felt… off. Like he had forgotten something important but couldn't quite grasp what it was.

The feeling didn't last. It faded just as quickly as it came, slipping from his mind like water through his fingers.

After a few moments, he let out a slow breath, waiting for the lingering aches in his body to subside before finally stepping inside. With a small gesture, he used his water ability to cleanse the dirt from his feet and a whisper of air to dry them. Then, lying down beside Dalia, he closed his eyes.

Sleep claimed him almost instantly.

***

A soft glow pressed against his closed eyelids. Even before he opened his eyes, Cassian knew it was daytime. He could hear whispers and murmurs, quiet conversations echoing around the house.

Slowly, he blinked awake, his gaze landing on Dalia's back as she spoke with others. As if sensing his awakening, she turned her head slightly, offering him a warm, gentle smile.

"Come, little Sian. Stand up. We're moving soon."

A voice from across the room chimed in. "Soon, we'll be home!"

Home.

The word lingered in Cassian's mind, foreign yet familiar.

Home.

Would he ever truly have one?