The Castle Commander's study was like the North itself: Cold, functional, and ruthlessly organized. Strategy maps hung on the walls, and a feeble fire crackled in the fireplace, insufficient to break the room's chill.
Zero closed the door. The sound of the lock echoed with a heavy, final clack, like the closing of a dungeon door.
Aetherion waited for his father to turn. He didn't look away. He didn't look at the floor like a child; he met him with shoulders squared, chin up, as a soldier looks at his commander.
"Tell me..." Zero said. His voice was like a whisper, but this was the silence before the storm. "...what you were thinking. What did I teach you about the Silent?"
"That I had to protect them," Aetherion said, his voice clear.
"Protect!"
Zero suddenly slammed his hand on the desk. The parchments on the table flew, the inkwell toppled.
"The way to protect them is for them not to attract attention, Aetherion! It is to wrap them in the armor of 'oblivion'! But what did you do?"
Zero walked toward his son. The air in the room grew heavier with every step.
"You, the Commander's son, by walking hip to hip with that girl, by giving her water in the middle of everyone, what do you think you did? You painted a giant, bright target board on her head! You drew the attention of Priests, of spies, with your damn 'show of mercy'!"
The samurai inside Aetherion drew his sword at this accusation. This was unjust.
"It wasn't because of my attention!" Aetherion said, his voice cracking. He didn't step back. "They are fugitives, father. They surely left tracks behind while coming here from the Center. That spy was a professional; whether I spoke to Runa or not, he would have followed the tracks and found this place. If I hadn't been there, Runa would be dead right now, and the spy would have walked away swinging his arms! I only did what I had to do!"
Zero stopped. The muscles in his face tensed. This defense from his son was not an explanation in his eyes, but insubordination.
"You still don't understand," Zero said, his voice dropping terrifyingly low. He struck the table, onto the maps, hard. "The issue isn't the spy's skill, Aetherion. The issue is your lack of discipline."
Zero loomed over his son. He looked not like a father, but like a general whose order had been questioned.
"I gave you an order. I said 'Be invisible.' That wasn't advice. It was a security protocol. It is hard for a spy to follow footprints; but to follow gossip? That is like taking the wind at your back."
He pointed a finger at Aetherion.
"By giving that water in the courtyard that day, by casting those stolen glances, you opened cracks in the castle walls. You gave material to the servants' tongues. Maybe that spy would have lost the trail, but the story of the 'Lord's Son and the Silent Girl' you created became a lighthouse guiding him."
Zero's voice hardened, the disappointment in his eyes giving way to pure anger.
"What you call 'humanity' punched a hole in my defense line. If that girl is alive today, it is not your success; it is the enemy's mistake. You are not a hero, Aetherion; you are a soldier who endangered his allies by disobeying orders!"
Aetherion's chest tightened. This was unfair. His father denied the complexity of events, reducing everything to a single line of "Command and Control."
"I didn't endanger them!" Aetherion shouted, desperation in his voice. "You cannot burden my conscience with the inadequacy of the walls!"
With his son raising his voice, Zero lost that last crumb of patience. Words were over now. Only the hard, metallic sound of authority remained.
He snatched the steel helmet from the desk.
He swung his arm.
CLANG!
The heavy steel helmet smashed not into Aetherion, but into the stone wall just a handbreadth from his head. Stone dust rose into the air, sparks flew. This was not a miss; this was a steel reflection of the command "Silence!"
And the moment that steel hit the wall, the balance in the room broke.
The giant stone fireplace, as if fed by this intense, electric anger in the room, suddenly roared.
The feeble fire inside flared up instantly, enough to overflow the chimney. Flames spilled into the room as if a barrel of oil had been poured over them. The heat in the room became unbreathable in a second; the air dried, a throat-scorching, infernal heat hit both of their faces.
Zero narrowed his eyes, his breath caught. What is this? he thought, looking at the flames in surprise. My anger... has it grown this much? Was I so enraged, did my blood boil so hot that I ignited the very air around me?
Aetherion stood frozen where he was. He pressed his back against the wall, his eyes not on his father, but on the flames trying to swallow the room. The knot in his stomach unraveled, giving way to pure panic. No... he said inwardly, his heart beating as if to pierce his chest. It overflowed again. My father will think this heat is coming from me...
The air in the room was vibrating. The fire was the silent scream between them.
Both stepped back at the same time, with the same anxiety.
Zero took a deep breath and clenched his fists, trying to force himself to calm down. Stop, he told himself. Calm down.
Aetherion closed his eyes, building a mental dam against that rising river of lava inside him. Extinguish, he begged silently. Please extinguish.
When both exhaled at the same time, that wild roar in the fireplace suddenly cut off.
The flames retreated into the chimney, back to where they belonged, as if pulled by an invisible leash. Instantly, the crackle of embers and a heavy, throat-burning smell of smoke settled into the room.
Silence returned, but this time it was heavier.
Aetherion slowly turned his head and looked at his father. In Zero's eyes, there was the unease of an experienced sailor sensing the wind changing direction.
Zero looked not angry anymore, but simply tired.
"Go to your room," he said. His voice was hoarse. "I don't want to see your face."
Aetherion headed for the door. He stopped when his hand touched the doorknob.
This conversation couldn't end like this. The most dangerous question hadn't been asked yet.
"That spy..." Zero said, his back turned, still looking at the fireplace, at that strangely behaving fire. "He was a trained killer. A shadow. How did you survive?"
Aetherion squeezed the doorknob. The metal burned his palm.
The moment had arrived.
Aetherion slowly turned. He looked into his father's eyes. Zero was looking at him with that uncanny, calculating gaze of a hunter realizing the wind direction has changed. There was no love or anger in his eyes; only a cold, piercing question mark. It was as if he could see under Aetherion's skin, searching for something that shouldn't be there.
Two paths appeared in Aetherion's mind.
The first was to tell the truth. "I have a fire inside me, father. I burned him."
Zero would see him as a threat. Maybe imprison him, maybe have to hand him over to the Priests.
The second path was to lie.
For a samurai, lying was stabbing one's sword into the mud. It was dishonor. Spiritual suicide.
But in his past life, he had died with honor and left graves behind.
Not this time, said the voice inside. This time I will sacrifice my honor to protect them.
"His arrogance finished him," Aetherion said. He chose every word carefully, coolly, so his voice wouldn't tremble.
"He underestimated me. He saw only a child. He wasn't even looking at me while hitting Runa, he had dropped his guard completely."
He touched the hilt of the sword at his waist.
"I did what I train every day. I didn't think. I thrust my sword. He realized at the last moment, dodged. The sword grazed his arm."
He continued without averting his eyes, looking into the deepest part of his father's eyes. This was the first crack opening in his soul.
"Then I screamed at the top of my lungs. He realized the guards would come. He didn't want to take the risk and fled."
Zero studied his son's face. He weighed every expression, every breath.
A lucky move for a child. A disciplined reflex for a soldier.
Logical, Zero thought. Hubris can be the cause of death for even the best warrior.
"Luck," Zero said coldly. "The only thing that protected you tonight was luck. And luck is the god of fools."
He waved his hand. "Get out."
He stopped when he reached the infirmary door. A soft, yellow light seeped from within.
He cracked the door open.
Nara was sitting by Runa's bedside. The woman started at the creak of the door and turned.
Their eyes met.
Nara didn't speak. She didn't thank him. There was no gratitude in her eyes. There was only pure, devastating grief.
Those eyes pierced through Aetherion's soul.
Those eyes said, "Your light burned the shadow we were hiding in." "You are a sun, boy. And we are plants withering in the sun. While wanting to help us, you scorched us."
Aetherion took a step back. A knot formed in his throat.
His mother's warning echoed in his mind: If you come together, you will explode.
They had exploded. And the shrapnel had embedded itself only in Runa.
He didn't defend himself. He didn't say "I saved her!" Because he knew that it was indeed his own light that had drawn that spy there.
He quietly closed the door.
When he entered his room, Aetherion moved to the window ledge and looked out at the dark courtyard.
His hands were trembling, but not from fear. From that change in his soul.
Tonight he had fought like a samurai, but lied like a politician. Childhood innocence had melted away in that snowy courtyard.
My father is right, he analyzed, his voice ice-cold. Being strong isn't enough. One must be invisible. One must be strategic.
He pushed his emotions aside. He wouldn't apologize to Runa; because apologizing wouldn't undo the mistake.
Instead, he made a decision.
He wouldn't go against his father. He wouldn't act like a rebellious adolescent.
Quite the opposite.
He would be that "Perfect Soldier" he wanted. Disciplined, obedient, flawless. He would regain his trust. He would become so strong that he would be the one making the rules.
And Runa... he would protect Runa from afar, from within the shadows. He would never shine a light on her again.
Aetherion looked at his gray eyes reflected in the glass, fires burning within them.
The game is over, he said to himself. The war has begun...