The house grew quieter after that morning, but not with peace.
Ace felt it in the way his parents watched him—longer stares, sharper tones, a silence that carried weight. He had survived their blows before, but this silence… this silence was dangerous.
They weren't just angry anymore.
They were afraid.
And fear made monsters even more desperate.
⸻
That night, Ace overheard them.
Through the thin cracks of the door, their voices hissed in the dark like vipers.
"He's changing," his mother whispered. "Did you see his eyes? He's not afraid anymore."
His father spat. "I'll beat it back into him."
"No." A pause. Her voice dropped, colder than the grave. "If he won't break… then we'll use him."
Ace's blood ran cold.
Use you, Orpheus's voice murmured inside him. Yes, I can hear their venom as clearly as you. That is not the voice of a parent. That is the voice of hunger.
Ace clutched the ring tightly, fighting to steady his breath. "Why… why are they like this?" he whispered, though he knew they couldn't hear.
Orpheus's golden presence flared in his mind, heavy and sharp.
"Because they are already touched by the shadow. Do you not see it? The cruelty that shaped you was not only theirs—it was the whisper of the Eternal Darkness, bleeding into their souls. You were not only betrayed by them, Ace Dragon… you were sacrificed."
The words slammed into him harder than any fist. Sacrificed.
His parents… had chosen this path?
"And still you live," Orpheus rumbled, his tone shifting—less harsh, almost reverent. "They raised you as prey, yet you stand unbroken. Few could endure what you have, child. That is why you carry me now."
Ace swallowed hard, his chest tight. "I don't feel strong."
"Strength is not the absence of pain. It is the will to rise while pain drags you down."
For the first time, Ace felt something in Orpheus's voice he hadn't before—not just authority, not just the weight of eternity.
Respect.
⸻
The next day, the escalation came.
His father's blows were no longer drunken rage—they were measured, deliberate, testing Ace for weakness. His mother's words dripped poison, planting doubts like seeds, twisting truth into barbs.
But Ace endured.
He didn't cower. He didn't plead. And when they struck, his eyes—dark, endless, steady—never looked away.
And that unbroken stare terrified them more than any scream ever could.
⸻
That night, alone in his room, Orpheus's voice came again, softer this time.
"You are more than I expected. The prophecy spoke of betrayal, of pain, of a child forged in shadows… but it did not speak of your resolve. Perhaps you are more than prophecy, Ace Dragon."
Ace lay in the dark, his bruises burning, his heart heavier than ever. But for the first time, a small, dangerous thought flickered inside him.
If Orpheus was right…
Then maybe his suffering wasn't just survival.
Maybe it was the beginning of something greater.
And that thought alone kept him awake long into the night.