Warm.

  The weight on my eyes lifted, and with it went the sound of laughter fading into the distance behind me - children’s laughter, echoing like bells through fog.

  When I opened them, black petals were drifting down from a sky without color. They fell slowly, spiraling in the still air, settling on my coat and the grass around me.

  There was no sun. No wind. Yet I felt no cold.

  I was lying under a tree, its branches dark and bare except for the black flowers it shed. The world around me glowed faintly gray, as if caught between dusk and dawn.

  It should’ve been unsettling.

  Instead, I felt… peaceful.

  For the first time in what felt like years, the noise in my mind was gone - no guilt, no whispers, no screaming. Just quiet. A quiet I had sorely forgotten, yet desired so consistently.

  I smiled faintly. “Took you long enough to bring me back here.”

  When I sat up, he was there - the same man as before, the one in the black coat, standing at the cliff’s edge overlooking the endless ocean below. His posture was the same as always - still, patient, as though the entire sea existed just to be stared at.

  I dusted off my clothes as I stood up, glancing around. “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”

  He didn’t move. The sound of distant laughter carried on the still air, and when I turned, I saw them.

  A field of white flowers stretched out behind me - tall, swaying gently though there was no breeze. The black petals that fell from above me seemed reluctant to intrude on such a plane. And among the untainted white flowers, a group of children played, chasing one another through the blossoms. Sixteen of them, all laughing with the innocence of children.

  Their faces and bodies were blurred, like half-finished sketches. But I didn’t need to see them clearly.

  I already knew who they were.

  They stopped when they noticed me watching. A hush passed through them. Then one girl - small, with short hair and that familiar spark of stubbornness - stepped forward.

  “You sure have grown, Damy,” she said, her voice sweet and clear, like the echo of a memory.

  A soft laugh escaped me. “You haven’t grown at all, Amy.”

  She giggled, brushing invisible dust from her gown. “You should come play with us, Damy!” She stretched her hands out, smiling. “Come on!”

  Various voices accompanied her.

  "Yeah, I want to hear more fairytales."

  "I want to learn how to cook nice bread!"

  "I want to hear more useless facts!"

  Hey, they're not useless.

  For a heartbeat, I considered walking down that hill. My soul felt attracted. I just felt so... tired.

  I reached out, hand half-lifted… but stopped short.

  My fingers trembled. I lowered my hand.

  “I don’t think I can,” I said quietly. “Not yet.”

  The children groaned in unison, voices overlapping in disappointment. Amy turned, putting her hands on her hips. “Shh! He said not yet! Don't ruin our chance!”

  Then she looked back at me and smiled again. “We’ll be waiting.”

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  I chuckled softly. “And watching too, no doubt.”

  She nodded, cheerful as ever. The others waved, calling out all at once -

  “See you soon, Damy!”

  “Bye, Damian!”

  “Don’t take too long!”

  I raised a hand in return. “I’ll try not to.”

  Their laughter faded behind me as I walked down the hill, away from the field of white and toward the cliff where the man waited. The petals followed me like drifting snow.

  When I reached him, I let out a quiet sigh. “You learn any new tricks this time?”

  “Yes.”

  I stopped mid-step, eyes wide. “No way.”

  A grin tugged at my lips, almost excited. “You can talk properly now?”

  “No.”

  He paused. The word came out strained, as if dragged from something deep beneath the surface.

  “Ah,” I said, realization dawning. Excitement immediately dying. “So you can only say yes or no.”

  “Yes.”

  “Of course.” I groaned, rubbing between my eyes. “Figures.”

  I moved to stand beside him, hands in my pockets, watching the endless ocean roll beneath the cliff. Its surface was mirror-still, reflecting nothing - not the sky, not the tree, not even us.

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” I asked.

  “...No.”

  I smiled faintly. “I disagree. Looks peaceful, like I could float in it forever. Waters quite comfortable, you know?”

  For a while, neither of us spoke. The ocean stretched forever. Behind us, faint laughter echoed again, fading slowly into memory.

  I turned to glance at him. The shadow over his face wasn’t complete this time - I could see strands of black hair, the sharp outline of his jaw. He stood a head taller than me, silent and unreadable.

  “I don’t know if I should thank you,” I said finally, my voice calm, quiet, but sharp beneath the surface. “Or curse you.”

  He didn’t respond.

  “After all,” I continued, turning toward him, eyes narrowing, “you were the one who started this disease… weren’t you?”

  The man tilted his head slightly.

  “Yes.”

  The waves below lapped soundlessly against the cliff, though I couldn’t hear them. It was as if the sea itself held its breath.

  “Yeah,” I said after a long silence, staring back into the sea. “Thought so.”

  The man didn’t answer. He never did unless prompted.

  I muttered to myself, eyes tracing the horizon’s gray edge. “Makes me wonder who you were to leave behind something so destructive and immense... for lack of better words.”

  My voice almost disappeared in the air. “Was I the first one? The first… successful recipient of this power?”

  “Yes.”

  “I see.” I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. “And was I the only one?”

  He hesitated this time. The pause stretched long enough that I thought he wouldn’t answer.

  Then, quietly-

  “No.”

  A complicated expression tugged at my face. I looked down at my hand, flexing it, watching faint traces of shadow coil beneath my skin before fading again.

  “So there’s at least one more out there,” I murmured. “Someone else with this… thing. I feel sorry for them, in all honesty. No one should be forced to have this rot inside them.”

  I looked back toward the sea. “Can they see you, too?”

  After a long moment, the man said, “No.”

  I exhaled, half-relieved, half-disappointed. “You really have trouble speaking, don’t you?”

  He said nothing.

  “For someone who once wielded a power big enough to cause even the Old Emperor some concern,” I said lightly, “you’re surprisingly weak.”

  Still no answer. The man stood motionless, his gaze fixed on the ocean as if searching for something lost beneath its surface.

  A petal drifted past. I caught it gently between my fingers - black, soft, weightless. I turned it over, tracing its smooth edge with my thumb, before letting it fall. It landed on the water below, vanishing without a ripple.

  “This place,” I asked, “it isn’t made up, is it?”

  “No.”

  “So it’s real? Somewhere in the world?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is it… important to you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you want me to visit this place anytime soon? For whatever reason?”

  The silence stretched again, longer this time. When the answer came, it sounded strained.

  “No.”

  “Then I guess you’ll just have to wait a bit.”

  I sighed and rolled my shoulders, stretching my arms above my head as I turned back toward the tree. "You know what? If my contract with Charlotte and her power means I have to see her all the time in the bird cage, than that must mean this is similar... right? But that begs the question, did I make the contract with you willingly or not? Assuming I even made one with you."

  The man didn't answer, much to my annoyance.

  "Yeah, don't know what I thought you were going to say."

  I started up the hill, voice casual but weary. “I don't really feel like waking up though. First, I’ve got to deal with a few traitors. Then it’s off to the Aurelian War Academy in the capital to build a name for myself - all while trying very hard not to get killed by the Inquisition.”

  When I reached the tree, I lied down against its trunk, the grass warm against my back. I looked up at the skyless gray above, eyes half-closed.

  “Sure made a mess for myself, huh?” I muttered.

  Further down the hill, I heard him move at last. The faint crunch of petals underfoot. Then his voice, echoing softly across the meadow reminded me of the reason why I was alive. And why this man had gone to all the trouble to use me as his personal minion.

  “The Empire must survive, or everyone will die.”

  I smiled mockingly. “Yes, sire. I got the message the thousandth time you said it.”

  My eyes grew heavy. “Well, hopefully I’ll see you later. I do miss this place, you know?”

  As the last of my words faded, I heard a familiar faint giggle behind me again - and the soft sensation of small hands covering my eyes.

  The world dimmed.

  And once more, I fell into silence.