Chapter 4: Things Don't Last Forever

The wooden door creaked open as Eon stepped inside, shaking the fear from his shoulders. The scent of sizzling garlic, herbs, and ginger greeted him, rich, warm, and almost magical in its ability to soften the weight of the day.

A voice called from the kitchen. "You're late again, Brother. This time is too much!"

He glanced over and saw her, his sister, standing over the old cast-iron pot with a wooden ladle in hand. Her long black hair, tied in a lazy ribbon, trailed down her back like a silk stream. She wore a pale blouse under a hand-stitched apron, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Though delicate in frame, she stood with quiet resolve. Her eyes—deep, expressive, the same shade as Eon's own—lit up as he entered, and her soft smile curved like the crescent moon. Her name is Evangeline Asterion.

"You're cooking?" he asked, setting his coat down with a surprised grin. "At this hour? Is it a special occasion?"

"It's called 'dinner,'" she said sweetly, tilting her head in mock innocence. "Maybe you've heard of it."

He snorted. "I do not, not when I'm the one who usually burns it."

She pointed the ladle at him. "Exactly. You told me you would cook from now on, but I have always had to step in! Which is why I had to step in early before you set the stove on fire again."

He wandered into the kitchen and leaned on the doorframe, letting the warmth wrap around him. For a fleeting second, this felt like the version of life he wished would last forever—quiet, whole, and untouched by the cruelty of the outside.

"You're spoiling me, at least let me spoil you as your older brother," he murmured.

She turned to face him, placing a bowl on the table. "Someone has to sit, eat. You look like you got into another fight with a chimney."

Eon chuckled and did as he was told, watching her bustle around with the soft, practiced grace of someone who had made this cold house feel like a warm home. The touch of candlelight danced across her pale skin, casting gentle shadows under her eyes.

As they ate together—warm broth, garlic rice, and salted egg—he caught her stealing glances at him.

"Alright," he said with a raised brow. "What is it?"

She smiled mischievously. "I was just wondering… when are you going to bring home someone?"

He blinked. "Someone?"

"A woman, I hope," she said, leaning her cheek on her hand. "Or maybe a man, I hope not. Though I'd prefer not some strange creature like that other—whatsoever that fanatic type is." She sighed. "You're not getting any younger, Brother."

Eon groaned. "Why does everyone assume I'm cut out for romance? I can barely keep my own coat stitched together!"

She teased, "Oh, I think you're secretly a hopeless romantic. You spend hours in bookstores, and your poetry."

"I don't do poetry," Eon insisted.

"Yes, I think you do," she countered, smiling.

Eon frowned, then mumbled, "Wait, bookstore?"

A blush warmed her cheeks. "Wait... did I misunderstand? I could have sworn you mentioned working in a bookstore..."

He chuckled nervously. "No, no, I do work in a bookstore, haha." The laugh was dry, a little strained. He remembered the lie he'd told his sister about finding legitimate work.

Her laughter joined his—a sound so light it made the old rafters hum. Yet in the back of his mind, something was wrong. Evangeline was trying so hard to seem strong. Her hands, once full of color, trembled when she thought he wasn't looking. Her voice cracked if she stood too long.

But tonight, she was radiant.

After dinner, she yawned and curled up on the couch, hugging an old bear—a gift to her, given by their parents— to her chest. "Five years from now, Brother… I'll be better. We can move somewhere warm, far, and safer. I'll have a tiny garden, and you'll finally open that library-café you keep dreaming about."

Eon sat beside her, brushing his hand over her hair. "And you'll still be teasing me about marriage?"

"Absolutely," she whispered sleepily. "Until you find someone who'll tease you better."

He smiled, but his heart ached.

Later that night, when she had finally fallen asleep and the fire had dimmed, Eon sat in his room. Moonlight spilled over the weathered floorboards, lighting the crumpled formula tucked beneath his notes.

A formula for the Dalan Ti serum. Power he didn't fully understand—but might be the only thing that could help him earn more and protect his sister from those people...

The door clicked softly behind him as Eon stepped into his cramped room.

The light of the night pooled on the floorboards, washing over scattered pages, old coins, and dried ink. He sat at the corner of his desk, fingers threading through his hair, thinking. On the wooden table before him, the old paper—the formula—its strange symbol could be read by him, surprisingly for him. 

He reached beneath the drawer and pulled out his notes—his secret collection of half-formed theories, oddities from the mystic enthusiast, pieces of evidence proving the waybound exist. Slowly, deliberately, he laid them in a circle.

"To think they do exist," he whispered. "To think I tried to search with doubts of their existence, I'm glad I didn't stop." He stared at the paper again. A step into a world that doesn't welcome new people.

This is a once-in-a-lifetime choice.

Then a knock at his door startled him.

"Brother?" his sister's voice called softly. "Want some snacks?"

He quickly stacked the papers and tucked the formula beneath the loose floorboard. By the time he stepped out, the scent of warm milk and sweet potatoes had filled the house.

She glared as he sat. "What took you so long? Were you hiding something there?"

Just pulling my thoughts together," he muttered, swallowing hard.

"Well, make sure you don't push yourselves too much," she said, worried, handing him his bowl.

"So," she said after a moment, picking up the sweet potato with her fork, "what are you worrying about lately?"

He hesitated, then shrugged. "The future, what I need to do."

"I like the sound of that. You're thinking of finally taking my advice and falling in love?"

Eon chuckled. "I would rather fall off a cliff."

She grinned. "Just make sure it's a cliff with someone to catch you."

She giggled again, and things went quieter this time.

Her eyes softened as she looked at him, fingers idly tracing the edge of her cup. "No matter what you're planning, Brother... promise me you won't carry it all alone."

Eon paused.

"I won't," he said gently, lying just enough to ease her worry.

She smiled, satisfied for now. "Good."

They sat in silence for a while after that, watching the flame dance in the lamp. She leaned her head on his shoulder, like when they were kids...

They clung to the warmth, not knowing the night had already begun to stretch its claws....