Then Adam glanced sideways, lips quirking.
"You know… I think I really did a good job with that myth."
Sasrir closed his eyes and breathed out through his nose. "…Yes. It's good. Very good. Happy?"
Adam's grin widened. "Extremely."
A faint thunk echoed as Sasrir flicked Adam's forehead with two fingers. "Don't get used to compliments."
Adam rubbed the spot, pouting. "You're just jealous because I'm naturally talented."
"Right. Naturally talented at doing nothin all day."
He stood and stretched, the shadows around him rippling like water under moonlight. The blackness that obscured his face shifted, never revealing him fully, yet somehow expressing an entire world of exasperation.
"Come on," Sasrir said. "It's nearly curfew. If Gunlaug's hounds catch you awake again, even I won't bother saving you. You know how picky they are about moving around at night, even for his best Hunters like us."
"Can't," Adam said, turning back toward the desk. "Still need to finish the final part."
"What final part?"
Adam lifted the quill again, twirling it between two fingers. "The birth of humanity. Dawn of consciousness. The rise of mortal will and its clash with the gods. Y'know— the fun stuff."
"You're impossible," Sasrir muttered, but didn't move. He hovered beside Adam's chair like a tired parent watching a child scribble on a wall. "Just don't write anything stupid for others to see."
"Don't worry, only you can see my masterpieces. Kai and Effie get my second-rate scripts."
"Gee, thank you for the honor."
Adam touched the quill to parchment, and once again golden light pooled outwards, shaping the next line.
Sasrir paused behind him… then, with a reluctant sigh, placed a hand gently on Adam's shoulder.
"Just finish quickly so we can sleep."
Adam smiled softly, the kind of smile that made him look far younger than his bravado ever admitted.
"I will."
The quill glowed brighter, and the next words began to appear—pulling the myth forward into whatever truths Adam intended to reveal next.
Sasrir slipped out of the room with one last, reluctant glance at Adam bent over his parchment. The door closed with a soft click behind him.
With that sound, something inside Sasrir clicked as well.
The loose, easy posture drained from his body like water from a cupped hand. His shoulders straightened, the faint slouch of casual humanity vanishing entirely. The air around him darkened, shadows sharpening as though aligning themselves to his spine. His steps became nearly silent, precise, each one falling with the calculated rhythm of a predator that had merely been pretending to walk on two legs.
The warmth in his voice—the wry humor, the gentle scolding—fell away into a cold, unfathomable stillness.
Gone was the companion. Gone was the teasing guardian. Gone was the counterfeit man.
What remained was the Dark Angel.
As he moved through the dim corridors of Bright Castle, torches guttered slightly, their flames shrinking away from him. The quiet stone halls seemed to lean back, unwilling to touch the thing that walked them.
Ahead, two Guards on patrol rounded a corner, chatting in hushed voices. One spotted the tall figure emerging from the shadows and instinctively raised a hand to greet him.
"Hey—"
His words died on his tongue.
The second Guard grabbed his elbow sharply, eyes widening in warning.
Sasrir walked toward them, the darkness masking his face rippling, as if something deeper inside was shifting.
Neither Guard dared to breathe, only trying to look to the sides without being too obviously rude.
When Adam was at his side, they laughed. When Adam teased him, they dared to tease back. When Adam humanized him, they accepted the illusion.
But Sasrir alone…
No one could act like he was anything like them.
One Guard's hand trembled against his spear shaft. Sasrir passed him by without turning his head, without acknowledging their existence at all. Despite his silence, despite his stillness, the oppressive weight of his presence crushed the narrow corridor like an invisible pressure.
When he was several steps away, one Guard exhaled so sharply it cracked into a strangled gasp.
"…God above…" he whispered.
His partner shot him a frantic glare and shook his head. Don't draw attention.
Sasrir continued on, indifferent. He understood what they felt. He understood why.
Adam's presence wrapped around him like sunlight, softening the shadows clinging to his form, making him don the mask of the supportive older brother. But without that light, without the warmth of Adam's voice grounding him in the role he played…
The castle saw him for what he was.
A silent killer, a shadow that reaped lives as easily as breathing. A man without conscience, who struck fear into anyone who met him alone at night. A somewhat exaggerated reputation, but not one Sasrir could deny either. Not when what had happened two months ago was still fresh in everyones mind.
At the next turn, a third Guard stiffened, back going ramrod straight as Sasrir approached. His fingers twitched at his side, as if unsure whether to salute, flee, or hold his breath and pray for invisibility.
Sasrir passed him without a sound.
Only when the black silhouette vanished down the next stairwell did the man's legs give a slight, visible shake, and he leaned weakly against the wall.
Sasrir did not slow. Did not speak. Did not flinch at their fear.
His footsteps carried him deeper into the castle's shadowed heart—silent, immaculate, and entirely inhuman.
Only Adam ever saw him otherwise.
Only Adam made him act otherwise.
But now, with the boy behind closed doors, wrapped in golden ink and the soft illusion of safety…