Incomplete

A beautiful day—yet again.

The sun poured through the curtains, casting golden streaks across the wooden floor. A cheerful tune floated through the air, whistled in perfect rhythm. The scent of freshly baked cake mingled with the rich aroma of coffee beans and warm spices, wrapping the home in a comforting embrace.

At the dining table, Soren sat between his father and Auren, his legs swinging slightly as he watched his mother move about the kitchen. Their family dinners weren't uncommon, but having both parents present at once was a rare occasion. With their demanding government jobs, one of them was usually absent, caught up in work.

Today, they had all made time.

Today was Soren's tenth birthday.

His mother carried over a massive strawberry cream cake, her steps as light as air, still whistling the same tune. Excitement gleamed in her eyes, her entire being radiating joy.

She set the cake down with a flourish, and Auren's eyes immediately locked onto it. His mouth parted slightly—just enough to catch the glistening cream on top.

Their father chuckled, shaking his head. "You had the same cake last year, Auren. Try not to eat the whole thing by yourself this time."

Auren stiffened, his face scrunching up in exaggerated embarrassment. "Huh… I—It was—yeah… My bad." He twiddled his thumbs in his lap before perking up with a sudden realization. "Maybe Mom shouldn't make such delicious cakes! Yeah, Mom, Dad said he doesn't like your baking."

Their father's eyes widened in mock horror. "I never—"

Before he could defend himself, their mother cut in smoothly, laughter dancing in her voice. "Now, now, boys. Auren, stop teasing your father."

A playful warmth filled the room, the kind that could only exist when a family was whole.

His mother carefully placed two lit candles on the cake before stepping behind him. Her arms wrapped around him in a gentle, soft embrace, her warmth pressing into his back.

"Now, make a wish, dear." Her voice was light, soothing, filled with love.

Soren closed his eyes for a moment, then unceremoniously blew out the candles.

Auren leaned in almost immediately, his grin playful. "What'd you wish for? A beautiful girl? A new game?"

Their mother straightened, chuckling as she ruffled Auren's hair. "If he tells you, it won't come true. Now, Soren, go ahead and cut the first piece."

Their parents were perfect. Role models of what good parents should be. Soren knew this. Logically, he understood it.

Yet, for some reason, he couldn't feel it.

Soren took the knife and cut the first slice, placing it neatly on the table before him. As he reached for it, a gentle poke on his shoulder made him pause.

He looked up to see his father leaning in slightly, lowering his voice so only he could hear. "Don't tell your mother, but I ordered a piano for your birthday. It'll arrive in a few days."

A gift just for him. Something he had mentioned in passing, something his father had remembered.

Before Soren could react, Auren—ever impatient—tried sneaking a bite from Soren's plate, only for their mother to lightly slap his wrist.

"Aureeeen…" she warned.

Auren recoiled immediately. "I'm sorry…"

Soren barely registered the exchange. He turned back to his plate, picking up the first piece of cake, the creamy frosting cool against his fingers.

He lifted it to his mouth.

Bit down.

And—

The texture wasn't the same.

The warmth disappeared.

The laughter was gone.

The sunlight had vanished.

And Soren was chewing on raw, squishy meat.

A hollow sensation settled deep in his chest.

Guilt.

Not because he couldn't save them.Not because he left Auren behind.

His voice came out low, almost hollow.

"I feel guilty… I feel guilty for not feeling enough for losing them."

But maybe that was the cruelest part of it all.The more he searched for answers, the less he seemed to find.And Soren's tenth birthday wish was left forever unfulfilled.

Soren lowered the piece of meat that rested on Aeternis' blade.

In the heavy silence, he simply sat there, staring at it.

He knew he had to eat. He needed the energy. But at this moment, he couldn't bring himself to lift the meat back to his mouth.

Aeternis scoffed.

"Pathetic."

Soren's grip on the hilt tightened. His eyes, slightly irritated, flicked down at the blade. "Just stay quiet."

Of course, Aeternis didn't.

"For millennia, humans have come and gone, their pasts forgotten like grains of sand scattered on the shores of the everlasting universe—"

Soren cut him off. "I never asked. What exactly are you?"

For a split second, there was silence. Then—Aeternis almost sounded offended.

"I am the blade that was forged by gods! I told you this already, you buffoon!"

Soren exhaled slowly, pressing a thumb against his temple. This was going to be a long night.

"Yes, I know. Can you be more specific?" Soren asked, his voice laced with mild curiosity.

For once, Aeternis hesitated.

The arrogance in his tone softened—just slightly—as he answered.

"I was forged in the age of gods… to cut down the tides of sorrow that threatened their followers."

Soren narrowed his eyes. Tides of sorrow? A dramatic way to describe something.

So he claimed to be created in a land of gods—not to serve them, but to fight against whatever brought humanity suffering.

Soren mulled it over for a moment before speaking again.

"And where exactly is this 'land of gods' you speak of?"

Aeternis didn't hesitate this time.

"Here. In what you call the Havens."

Soren's fingers tapped idly against the hilt, his mind already working through the implications.

The Havens.

The place where gods supposedly no longer walked.

Yet, according to Aeternis… they once had.

But how did Aeternis know that people called this place the Havens?

Soren's curiosity sharpened. "How do you know we call this place the Havens?"

Aeternis let out a low chuckle, arrogance dripping from his tone.

"You truly know nothing, do you? When you wield me, I am intertwined with you. Your thoughts, memories, emotions… even your sight—they all bleed into my consciousness."

Soren's fingers tightened slightly around the hilt.

So it wasn't just a matter of Aeternis controlling his body like a puppet. The sword was linked to him—aware of everything he perceived.

Then how much does he really know about the Havens?

"Then how much do you actually know?" Soren asked, his voice measured.

Aeternis responded instantly, brimming with certainty.

"Everything."

Then, after a brief pause—

"…Except that my memories are scattered. Some feel like echoes from eons ago."

Soren's gaze lowered, his curiosity deepening.

"For example," Aeternis continued, almost amused, "I know you are not my original wielder."

Soren exhaled slowly, his grip firm on the hilt.

A lot of information about the Havens existed, but most of it was locked behind the Awakening Society's control, restricted to awakened individuals or those working for the government. If Aeternis truly held knowledge that had been lost—or buried—then…

This conversation had just become far more important.

Aeternis' tone hardened, his voice turning almost disapproving.

"We shall not indulge in the past. Your survival is already looking… dangerously vague."

Soren exhaled through his nose. That was one way to dodge the question.

Did Aeternis refuse to speak because he truly didn't remember?

Or was it a matter of pride—admitting gaps in his knowledge would mean admitting weakness, and Aeternis did not seem like the type to tolerate weakness.

Or… perhaps there was something he simply didn't want to tell.

Before Soren could press further, Aeternis spoke again.

"If you wish to uncover the secrets of this world, you must first gain the strength to oppose the consequences."

Soren blinked.

For some reason, those words felt familiar.

His mind latched onto the phrase, chasing it through the fog of memory—

Where had he heard that before?

The answer was there, just out of reach.

But no matter how hard he tried to grasp it…

The memory refused to connect.

Soren exhaled slowly and lifted the piece of meat toward his mouth again.

Then, suddenly—his lips twitched.

"Can you stop using the masterpiece of gods as cutlery?!"

Aeternis was furious.

Soren stopped the blade just short of his mouth, rolled his eyes, and pulled the piece of meat off of it before dismissing the sword entirely.

Childish.

But in the end, he had gained something tonight.

Not much—but something he could work with.

The night had grown cooler, the winds picking up, rustling through the forest like whispers in the dark. The distant howls of unseen creatures echoed faintly through the trees, but none were close enough to pose an immediate threat.

Soren took one last bite of the disgusting, rubbery meat he had carved from the Harbinger's corpse before retreating back into the hollow tree.

He sat for a moment, staring out at the vast darkness of the Havens.

A thought crossed his mind.

If anyone had seen my conversation with Aeternis… they'd think I'd lost my mind.

Or worse.

That I was a monster in disguise.

The thought lingered as Soren shut his marble-black eyes, his mind already shifting toward the next day.

He needed a plan.

And in the morning, he would make one