Chapter 7: Night To Remember

Bright lights pierced the pitch-black night—children played with fireworks, laughter and cheers echoing through the air.

Elam and Thes stepped into the crowd—close enough not to lose each other, yet keeping their distance. Slowly, they made their way to the heart of the festival. People danced and sang into the quiet, cold night.

Suddenly, Thes felt his hand grabbed—but it wasn't Elam.

The hand was small. He looked down. A kid. A girl. She smiled brightly and tugged him closer to the bonfire. He resisted slightly, glancing around—but Elam was nowhere to be found.

Oh, it's just a kid. Where's Elam? Hm?

"Mister, mister, come dance with me. Haha!" she laughed.

Thes's eyes shrank. Slowly, gently, he smiled.

That smile… how peaceful. Judging by her clothes, she must be poor—yet she smiled so brightly. I envy her. I envy them.

"Um… I'm not good at this." Thes lowered his eyes, biting his lip gently while the kid kept smiling.

I'm scared… I can't…

"Mister… it's okay. No one's perfect at the start. Come on, follow me."

Thes flinched. He looked down, but he could feel her pulling him again. He stared at her, soft eyes and hesitation. Again, she tugged—and this time, he followed.

They approached the bonfire.

Woah… my first time seeing fire up close. It's… hot. My skin burns a little, but not too much. It's warm. It's bright.

"Mister, mister, how is it? Hehe." She grinned, teeth showing, and pointed at the fire.

Ah… I see. Elam smiles like that at me too. No wonder it makes him feel safe.

"It's warm. Haha. Why'd you bring me, though?" Thes blinked at her, tilting his head. She turned to him.

"Because I thought… if I brought Mister here, he'd shine brighter."

Thes trembled.

His brows furrowed. He hadn't expected that answer—nor how deeply it would affect him. He folded his arms tightly, hugging himself.

His knees buckled. He nearly lost balance. Her words lingered like a song in his head. His breath shortened, eyes wide, chest tight. He gritted his teeth.

The girl patted his back, eyes brimming. Thes clutched at his chest like the sentence had pierced him straight through.

Brighter, huh? Me? Do I deserve to?

"Little girl… haa… why did you say that?" Thes panted. His voice trembled. His eyes met hers—she trembled, too, lifting her hand to wipe her eyelids.

"Because… Mister's golden eyes are so pretty. They shine even in the dark. I… I just wished for Mister to feel happy."

Thes's eyes widened as he gasped for air—but it felt like his lungs were locked tight. The world blurred. A high-pitched ring drowned all sound.

He couldn't hear the girl anymore. Only the pounding in his skull.

Then—

A cold touch.

His breath hitched. He turned instinctively—and without thinking, threw his arms around the familiar warmth.

"Elam," he whispered, voice cracked.

Elam clenched his jaw and held him tighter, one hand stroking Thes's back in steady circles. Without a word, he looped Thes's arms around his neck and gently hoisted him up, carrying him away from the crowd and the blazing bonfire.

The music and laughter dimmed behind them as they reached a quiet corner beneath the shadow of an old tree.

Elam knelt down and set Thes gently against the ground, still holding him close.

Thes was trembling. Eyes shut tight. Breath erratic. His fingers clung to Elam like a lifeline.

"Haa, Elam…"

Elam didn't ask anything. He reached into the tiny black hole at his side—his pocket-space magic, quiet and unseen—and pulled out a coat. With care, he wrapped it around Thes's shoulders and rubbed his arms through the fabric.

"Breathe," Elam murmured. "You're safe. I'm here."

Thes didn't speak. His lips parted—but only faint gasps came out. His chest heaved, tears stinging the corners of his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he finally choked. "I—It just… hurts."

"I know," Elam whispered. "But you're not alone. I've got you."

And in that moment—with distant fireworks lighting up the sky and the warmth of Elam's coat around him—Thes let the weight fall from his chest.

Just a little.

Not all of it.

But enough.

Elam stroked his face, gently. Thes rested his head on Elam's chest, he nuzzled slightly as he was stroked and Elam leaned in a little close, kissed his forehead. He patted Thes slowly.

"It's okay, it's okay… You're safe here with me. Don't worry, darling."

Elam held him tight. He closed his eyes as he looked at the sky, his smile was bitter. He whispered to himself, peeked at Thes.

"Why're you like this? You're not fine at all, why don't you tell me?"

His eyes tensed, as if he felt failed in protecting Thes.

"Whoever is it, I'll make sure you never cry again… I promise."

Elam gritted his teeth hard, he bit his lips until it bleed.

"I won't let you alone again, I'm sorry… I was careless, I thought… you'll be fine."

He patted Thes again as he held him.

"It…it's my fault. I'm sorry, Thes."

Thes moved slightly. He nuzzled on Elam's chest again.

"Elam…", he whispered again, it was soft.

Elam's eyes shrank. He held Thes even tighter.

"I'm here… I'm here, Thes. Just… close your eyes."

I messed up. I shouldn't leave you alone. How could I lost my sight on you, Thes?

The sound of distant fireworks slowly faded, leaving only the quiet rustling of the wind. Thes's breath slowed, the warmth of Elam's embrace grounding him, and for a fleeting moment, the world felt still, untouched by the looming uncertainties.

But even in that moment of fragile peace, something stirred in the far-off distance—something none of them had seen coming.

The soldiers stood still in the cool night air, the clatter of their armor faintly echoing through the quiet. The pungent scent of sweat clung to them as they glanced at the glowing city in the distance, their excitement palpable. One soldier hurried to General Henry, whispering something in his ear. The captain's lips curled into a small, knowing smile.

With a calm wave of his hand, Henry turned to face his soldiers. The sudden shift in atmosphere drew their attention, and they waited, silent, the stillness heavy between them.

"Tonight, we rest here," Henry's voice was steady, but there was a quiet weight in it.

"Tomorrow, we march toward that place. I'll arrange shelter for us—relay that we are soldiers of the Kingdom of War. Until then, no one leaves this spot without my permission. Understood?"

"Yes, General," they responded in unison, their voices loud, eager.

Henry nodded, but his eyes were distant, drifting toward the lights of the city. The excitement of the soldiers seemed to float past him, muffled somehow, as if he were watching through a veil.

The air was thick with the sounds of clanking armor and murmurs of excitement, but his gaze remained fixed ahead. He saw the soldiers' eagerness, their fervor for the war they'd been told to fight. Yet, deep inside, something gnawed at him—a quiet unrest.

Tomorrow, they would march toward the city. But the king's orders weighed heavy, like a dark cloud growing thicker in his chest. This wasn't the king he had once believed in.

Behind him, the soldiers set up camp, laughter filling the space, but Henry remained at the edge of it all, as if separated by a thin, invisible barrier. The clinking of armor, the crackling of campfires, the cheer of his men—none of it reached him completely.

"Tomorrow," he murmured to himself, "we march toward a war I never wanted. For a king I no longer trust."

Is this right? I don't know anymore.

"How it come to this? My king…"