Zara's voice bounced off the empty kitchenware and the cold walls, but no footsteps returned the call. She was about to cry out again when she felt a heavy, cold hand rest upon her shoulder. The hand didn't tremble, yet it possessed a weight as crushing as a mountain of stone.
Kelen stood directly behind her. His shadow stretched over her like a dark shroud. He tightened his grip on her shoulder slightly, as if bracing her for the shock of the truth he was about to exhale. "Zara..." Kelen's voice was so low it was barely a whisper.
Yet the agony within it permeated the entire house. Zara froze. She slowly turned her head, the spark in her eyes still flickering, mere seconds away from being extinguished. "What's wrong? Is she out? Or maybe—" Kelen didn't raise his gaze.
He simply pressed down on her shoulder and lowered his head further. "Miya is no longer of this world." The words froze in the air. The silence within the house became deeper, more suffocating. The dust motes dancing in the shafts of sunlight suddenly seemed to stand still.
Zara's smile died on her lips. She stared at Kelen's hand, then at the empty room where Miya's toys used to lie scattered. Kelen's hand remained on her shoulder, tethering her to the brutal reality. "She is gone, Zara. That night... when the silence on Vespera's walls was shattered, she left us."
He loosened the chain on his wrist slightly, its faint metallic resonance—Chink...—sounding like a lament in the grieving room. For the first time, Kelen lifted his eyes and looked out the window toward the direction where the peace of the cemetery began.
His face reverted to that same stony mask, but there was a fracture in his voice that anyone could see. A slight tremor ran through Zara's shoulders. She jerked away from Kelen's grip, stepping back. Her eyes were a turbulent mix of disbelief and fear.
She tried to force a hollow laugh, which sounded dreadfully out of place in that oppressive silence. "You... you're joking, right Kelen?" Zara asked, her voice trembling as her fingers nervously twisted the edge of her scarf. "What kind of joke is this? Miya must be hiding somewhere... she always did that."
Kelen didn't move. The stony stillness in the depths of his eyes was leagues away from any jest. He lowered his head further, letting the shadows of his hair deepen across his features. "This is no joke, Zara," Kelen's voice was as heavy as cold metal scraping against a floor.
"I wish it were." The ground beneath Zara's feet seemed to give way. She gripped the edge of the table to steady herself. "When... when did all this happen? How?" Kelen clenched his fist. The locked doors of his memories were creaking open once more.
"Almost five or six years have passed," he said, piercing the silence. "It was the dead of night... everything was silent, and then suddenly, the attack happened. No one had a chance to react. The reign of those demons and monsters began that very night, and Miya..."
He left the sentence unfinished. The chain on his wrist clinked again—Chink...—as if echoing the sudden screams of that night. The air in the room had grown even more stifling. Zara saw that Kelen's stony mask had finally shattered.
In its place stood a man who had left a part of his soul behind in that dark night. "Five years..." Zara whispered, her face turning pale. "And you've been living in this empty house all alone since then?" Kelen offered no reply.
He simply watched the setting sun through the window, its crimson light spilling across the floor like bloodstains. A slight tremor ran through Zara's shoulders. She jerked away from Kelen's grip, stepping back. Her eyes were a turbulent mix of disbelief and fear.
She tried to force a hollow laugh, which sounded dreadfully out of place in that oppressive silence. "You... you're joking, right Kelen?" Zara asked, her voice trembling as her fingers nervously twisted the edge of her scarf.
"What kind of joke is this? Miya must be hiding somewhere... she always did that." Kelen didn't move. The stony stillness in the depths of his eyes was leagues away from any jest. He lowered his head further, letting the shadows of his hair deepen across his features.
"This is no joke, Zara," Kelen's voice was as heavy as cold metal scraping against a floor. "I wish it were." The ground beneath Zara's feet seemed to give way. She gripped the edge of the table to steady herself.
"When... when did all this happen? How?" Kelen clenched his fist. The locked doors of his memories were creaking open once more. "Almost five or six years have passed," he said, piercing the silence. "It was the dead of night... everything was silent, and then suddenly, the attack happened."
"No one had a chance to react. The reign of those demons and monsters began that very night, and Miya..." He left the sentence unfinished. The chain on his wrist clinked again—Chink...—as if echoing the sudden screams of that night.
The air in the room had grown even more stifling. Zara saw that Kelen's stony mask had finally shattered; in its place stood a man who had left a part of his soul behind in that dark night. "Five years..." Zara whispered, her face turning pale.
"And you've been living in this empty house all alone since then?" Kelen offered no reply. He simply watched the setting sun through the window, its crimson light spilling across the floor like bloodstains. Zara's eyes began to swim with tears.
But within their shimmer was a sharp, biting anger. She looked at an old clay cup on the table, covered in a thick layer of dust. "Then why didn't you tell me sooner?" her voice rang out in the silent room.
"You kept me in the dark for all these years? Was I such a stranger to you?" Kelen shifted his gaze from the window to Zara's tear-stained face. His features remained hardened, but the waves of emotion rising in his chest could be felt in his stifled breath.
"I didn't want to worry you, Zara," he said in a voice that was calm yet incredibly heavy. "Worry me?" Zara cried out, her throat choking up. "Kelen, we were a family! Didn't you say yourself that we would face every hardship together?"
"Is truth something you hide from your own family?" Kelen took a long, weary breath. He gently stroked his chain-bound wrist, as if the iron were reminding him of an old burden. "I thought... I truly thought that you should finish your studies first."
"You were safe, far away from Vespera. I didn't want the shadow of Miya's death to reach those books and dreams of yours." He took a step toward Zara but then hesitated. "I thought that when you returned, I would tell you everything myself."
"I believed you didn't need this truth at that time." Zara buried her face in her palms. The room sank once more into that heavy stillness, where only the shadows dancing on the walls stood as witnesses.
Kelen's 'protection' had become a 'betrayal' in Zara's eyes, and the memories of Miya now floated through the dusty air like an unfulfilled promise. Zara's sobs now rattled against the vacant walls of the house.
She collapsed onto the cold floor, pressing her palms against her eyes as if trying to blink the truth out of existence. Seeing her trembling form against the dusty earth, Kelen's iron composure began to fray. He sank slowly onto the floor beside her.
With one hand, he touched his new blade, the Leopard's Claw—that steel was now his only anchor. Then, with profound tenderness, he extended his other hand toward Zara's face. His fingers brushed away the tears clinging to her cheeks.
"Zara..." Kelen's voice carried a sense of kinship he had suppressed for years. "I have already lost one sister. I didn't want to throw you and your brother into peril and lose the only siblings I had left. That is why I chose silence."
But as soon as Kelen's words faded, Zara jerked her face away. Her eyes were no longer filled with tears, but a strange, searing fire. "No!" Zara's voice cracked like thunder in the silent room. "I... I don't think of you as a brother, Kelen!"
Those words were as sharp as the harsh afternoon sun streaming through the open doorway and striking Kelen's face. Kelen froze. His hand remained suspended in mid-air, as if someone had struck a blow to his very soul.
That word—'brother'—which he had worn as his shield, had been stripped away by Zara in a single heartbeat. The sunlight bathed him, yet he felt a profound darkness within. Zara's declaration echoed in his ears like a repeated bolt of lightning.
"I don't think of you as a brother." In that moment, the roof of the ancient house felt as though it were ready to collapse upon them both.