When Conus opened his eyes, the world was quiet. Morning light streamed through the curtains in pale bands, soft and forgiving, cutting golden lines across the far wall of his room. For a long time he did not move. He lay still on his back, staring upward, his breath shallow and uneven.
The night before came rushing back in scattered fragments, the monster with its endless limbs, the sharp metallic taste of blood in his mouth, the deafening crash of glass and steel. Every detail pressed against his thoughts until the weight of it threatened to suffocate him.
His body ached, but the pain was muted, dulled to a throbbing soreness instead of the jagged agony he remembered. Even so, the ache reminded him with every breath that what he had survived was not a dream.
Then the smell reached him. It clung to his skin, dry and pungent. His sheets were stiff with it, streaked with brittle stains. Dried blood. He turned his head and grimaced at the dark patches marking the fabric. With effort, he pushed himself upright, peeled the shirt from his body, and dropped it into the corner.
"Shower," he muttered, running a hand through his hair.
The hot water was a relief he did not realize he needed until it poured down on him. Steam curled around the small bathroom, fogging the mirror. The water slid over his skin in red-tinted drops, carrying away grime and the stale metallic scent. His ribs twinged as he lifted his arms.
By the time he stepped out and pulled a towel across his shoulders, the boy who had staggered home broken and bloodied looked almost new.
When he opened his bedroom door, the smell of food reached him. Warmth lingered in the air, a mingling of eggs, spices, and something sweet baking in the oven. The faint clatter of pans echoed from the kitchen.
Alora stood at the counter, apron tied neatly, her hair drawn back. When her eyes lifted and found him, her entire face softened.
"You are awake," she said, relief in her voice. "Are you feeling any better?"
Conus leaned down to press a quick kiss to her cheek. "Much better. Thank you, Mother."
She studied him with the same care a physician might give a patient, her eyes tracing every inch of his face and posture as if searching for what he had not said. "You frightened me yesterday. Do not ever do that again."
He gave a tired laugh. "No promises."
He turned from the kitchen toward the sitting room just as the front door opened. Sunlight spilled across the threshold, framing Ishira as he stepped in. His tall figure filled the doorway, and in his hand he carried something. It was his rented sword. He had totally forgotten about it after the fight.
"You left this," Ishira said, holding it up. "They returned it to me this morning. I thought you might want it back."
Conus crossed the room and brushed his hand along the sheath. "I was planning to return it to the vendor today."
"No need," Ishira replied, his tone even. He extended the weapon toward his son. "It is yours now. I bought it."
Conus blinked. For a moment the words did not settle. "You did? When?"
"After our raid," his father answered.
Despite himself, Conus smiled. "Thank you."
Ishira only inclined his head in acknowledgment. He did not linger in the moment. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and with a swift motion he lifted it to his ear.
"Ishira Aromane speaking."
A pause. His features shifted almost imperceptibly. The lines of his mouth tightened, the space between his brows deepened. He listened, silent, for a long while. Then his voice dropped lower.
"I see." He ended the call.
Conus narrowed his gaze. "What is it? What's wrong?"
For a moment Ishira said nothing for a while. Then he exhaled loudly.
"My father," he spoke. His voice was steady, but the words trembled beneath it. "He is dead."
Conus froze.
"Your… father?" His voice barely reached above a whisper. "I have a grandfather?"
The look Ishira gave him then was unlike any Conus had ever seen. His father's calm exterior cracked just enough to reveal a flicker of something different.
The truth had been buried for years. Ishira had always been silent about his life before he met Alora. Whenever Conus asked about family, about uncles or aunts or grandparents, Ishira would wave the questions away. Once, he had even claimed he was an orphan, that there was nothing left to know.
Shock mingled with betrayal inside Conus. For years he had believed their small world was all there was. Now he realized his life had been enclosed within walls carefully built to keep the truth hidden.
Before he could speak, footsteps sounded behind him. Alora appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. Concern pinched her brow as she glanced between father and son.
"What is going on?" she asked quietly.
Conus did not hesitate. "Ishira's father is dead." He spoke, intentionally calling him by his name.
The towel stilled in her hands. Her eyes widened for only a moment before composure returned, though the pause was enough to give her away. "How?" she whispered.
Conus turned sharply to her. "You knew?"
Her lips parted, then closed again. She faltered between denial and confession. "Conus, I…" The words failed her.
Ishira's voice cut across the room, distant. "I need to make some calls."
He slipped his phone into his pocket and walked toward the door. He did not look back.
Conus let out a sound that was almost a laugh but carried no humor. He turned from his mother's expression and stepped into the corner of the sitting room. Shadows swallowed him whole, and in the blink of an eye he was gone.
His room welcomed him again. The movement through the shadows was smoother now, and he could even travel longer distance. He barely noticed the improvement as he dropped onto the bed, elbows resting on his knees, his mind spinning.
The buzz of his phone startled him. He picked it up. It was Lucas.
"Hey," Conus answered, his voice raw.
"You sound like you were just flattened by a truck," Lucas said, his usual humor tempered with concern. "You holding up?"
"I am fine."
Lucas's tone softened. "You sure? The reunion's in three days. Think you'll make it?"
Conus leaned back against the headboard, eyes tracing the faint shadows stretching across his ceiling. "Yes. I'll be there."
"Good. Until then, get some rest."
The call ended. Conus let the phone drop onto the mattress and lay back. The door creaked open. Ishira filled the doorway, his tall frame cast in shadow. He did not speak at first. His expression remained calm, yet his eyes carried a heaviness Conus had never seen before.
Silence stretched between them, broken only by the faint vibration of the ceiling fan. Conus shifted upright, waiting.
At last Ishira spoke. "Tomorrow, prepare yourself. We leave for Barkinham State. My family's house."
Conus opened his mouth to reply, but Ishira lifted his hand slightly, halting him.
"There are things a child cannot understand. Not yet." His voice was steady, but the strain beneath it was unmistakable.
He gave Conus one last look, something unreadable flickering in his eyes, then turned away. The door closed softly behind him, leaving Conus in silence with the weight of truths only beginning to reveal themselves.