Life had, somehow, settled into something that resembled a routine.
It was not comfortable in the way silk sheets and warm baths had once been. It was not predictable in the way court schedules and royal lessons had governed his days. And yet, there was a quiet rhythm to it now. A strange steadiness that Fenix found himself leaning into without fully realizing it.
Morning came with the sound of the river.
Afternoon passed with small tasks.
Evening ended by the fire.
And in between, there was them.
Currently, Fenix stood precariously atop a wooden stool, one hand braced against the wall while the other waved a cloth in what he believed to be a productive manner. Dust floated lazily in the air, catching the light that streamed through the small window.
He sneezed.
Then again.
"This is highly inefficient," he muttered, squinting as another cloud rose directly into his face.
Across the room, Aeris crouched by the hearth, turning a fish over the flames with the ease of someone who had done this countless times. The firelight flickered across his features, calm and unbothered.
Fenix coughed lightly and wiped his nose with the back of his hand.
He could not help but recall, with growing regret, the many occasions his mother had offered to teach him "useful skills." Cooking. Cleaning. Sewing. All things he had dismissed with polite disinterest.
He exhaled slowly.
"I should have listened," he murmured.
"You really should have."
Fenix nearly lost his balance.
He twisted around to find Sylvia standing below, arms crossed, staring up at him with open disbelief.
"You are doing it wrong," she added.
"I gathered that," Fenix replied dryly.
She tilted her head, studying him as though he were some rare and disappointing specimen. "How do you not know how to clean?"
"I had people for that," he answered simply.
Her expression shifted immediately.
Not impressed.
Not envious.
Just confused.
"…That is ridiculous."
"I am beginning to agree."
She let out a small huff and reached up, snatching the cloth from his hand without asking. "Move."
Fenix stepped down, somewhat offended but also curious.
Within moments, Sylvia climbed onto the stool and began dusting properly. Efficient. Thorough. No wasted movement.
Fenix watched in silence.
Then sighed.
"She is ten," he muttered under his breath.
"I heard that," she said without turning.
"…That does not make it better."
She smirked.
Defeated, Fenix stepped outside. The air was cool, carrying the faint scent of the river nearby. Buckets of water sat neatly arranged along the side of the cottage, filled earlier that morning.
He dipped his hands into one, letting the cold water wash away the dust.
And some of the embarrassment.
When he returned, he settled beside Aeris, who handed him a freshly roasted fish without a word.
Fenix accepted it with a quiet nod and began eating.
It was not good.
It was not terrible either, but it lacked… refinement. The skin was unevenly crisp, the inside slightly dry, and there was no seasoning to speak of.
Still, he ate.
Carefully.
Or at least, he tried to.
A crunch.
He froze.
Slowly, he pulled the fish away, staring at it with mild betrayal.
A laugh rang out behind him.
Fenix turned.
Sylvia stood there, holding her own fish, her expression alight with amusement. "You are eating it wrong."
"There is a correct way to eat this?" he asked.
"Yes," she said firmly. "You are eating it like a noble."
"I am a noble."
She grinned. "Exactly."
She plopped down beside him and demonstrated, biting into the fish without hesitation.
Fenix watched.
Then attempted to copy her.
Another crunch.
Sylvia burst into laughter, nearly dropping her food.
Even Aeris let out a quiet breath that might have been a laugh.
Fenix swallowed with as much dignity as he could manage. "Noted," he said stiffly.
"Do you know how to cook anything?" Sylvia asked.
Fenix considered lying.
He did not.
"No."
She blinked. "Nothing?"
"…Nothing."
She stared at him, then shook her head slowly. "What did you even do all day in that big palace?"
Fenix leaned back slightly, eyes drifting toward the trees.
"…Train," he said after a moment. "Swordsmanship. Strategy. Etiquette." He paused. "Study history. Politics. Languages I was not allowed to speak outside lessons."
"That sounds boring," Sylvia said.
"It was," he admitted.
She tilted her head. "Did you play?"
Fenix hesitated.
"…Not often."
"Why?"
He searched for an answer.
None came easily.
"There was always something more important," he said finally.
Sylvia frowned.
"That sounds sad."
He let out a soft breath that might have been a laugh.
"Yes," he said quietly. "I suppose it was."
To shift the mood, he added, "There were feasts."
Her eyes lit up instantly.
"What kind?"
He smiled faintly. "Roasted meats glazed with honey. Sweet pastries dusted with sugar. Cakes layered with cream and fruit."
Sylvia leaned closer, captivated.
"Did you eat all of it?"
Fenix shook his head. "Formal dinners are more about appearances than eating."
She wrinkled her nose. "That is stupid."
"…Yes."
For a moment, they sat in companionable silence.
Then Sylvia nudged him. "Well, your life sounds boring."
Fenix smiled.
"It was not all bad."
"Just mostly?"
"…Mostly."
The moment lingered, warm and quiet.
It felt… normal.
Until it didn't.
The conversation shifted when Fenix glanced around the cottage and asked, "Do you think the owner would be upset if they found us here?"
The question settled heavily.
Before it could grow, Sylvia choked on her food, half laughing. Aeris handed her water, then looked at Fenix.
"I do not see why I would be," he said.
Fenix blinked.
"…What?"
Sylvia wiped her mouth, grinning. "He is the owner, you silly prince."
Fenix stared.
"You have a house?"
That was enough.
Sylvia collapsed into laughter.
Aeris frowned. "What is that supposed to mean?"
Fenix gestured vaguely. "Your… everything."
"That explains nothing."
Their banter faded when Sylvia added quietly, "It was my parents'."
Silence followed.
Fenix shifted, uncomfortable.
"So… you are siblings?" he asked.
Sylvia gave a small smile. "Not by blood."
Aeris stood. "Inside. It is getting late."
Sylvia obeyed, glancing back once before disappearing into the cottage.
Aeris followed.
Fenix remained outside.
The sky darkened slowly, shadows stretching between the trees. The air cooled.
Something felt… off.
Then a twig snapped.
Fenix froze.
Slowly, he turned.
A child stood at the edge of the trees.
A boy.
Blond hair.
Too still.
Too pale.
He smiled.
Wrong.
Then he ran.
Fenix did not think.
He ran after him.
Branches tore at his clothes. Roots threatened to trip him. The forest blurred.
The boy never slowed.
Never stumbled.
And then…
He stopped.
Fenix skidded to a halt.
The clearing was wrong.
The air was wrong.
The boy turned his head slowly.
His eyes were empty.
Not dark.
Not hollow.
Endless.
Fenix's breath caught.
Whispers rose.
Soft.
Countless.
Calling his name.
The ground shifted beneath him.
He looked down.
Ash.
Not soil.
Ash.
Something moved beneath it.
The boy smiled wider.
Too wide.
And then the whispers stopped.
Silence fell.
Heavy.
Absolute.
Fenix realized, far too late…
He had not been chasing the boy.
He had been led.