̣⭒˙✵• ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯☽✮☾⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ •✵˙⭒ ̣

Should've stayed, were there signs I ignored?

Can I help you not to hurt anymore?

We saw brilliance when the world was asleep

There are things that we can have but can't keep

One more light – Linkin Park

Did I do the right thing by not telling her? By not reading it with her? After all, from the start, it wasn't her business. The notebook was mine. But without her, I don't think I'd ever have found the courage to read it. If I showed her those two pages, how would she react? One blank page was enough to shatter her good mood. Would one wrong word drown her? The Raven dives and resurfaces in a single breath. What would I have done in Cornelia's shoes? The answer comes in an instant. My specialty would have left no room for escape. He rests its wet head on the edge of the tub, body submerged in the warm water. With eyes closed, he can still see that handwriting—no longer joyful and adorned, but now jagged, deep, desperate.

I can still see his eyes. It's all my fault. I shouldn't have gotten so close, I shouldn't have indulged him. And yet, living his life, wearing his skin, feeling his skin—it became a need I couldn't let go of. I could have stopped it, yes, dozens of times. I chose not to because I thought my position, my merits, my connections would keep me safe. And, deep down, who really cares about humans, right? They are shadows in our world, food for Flowers. Any interaction with them is worth less than feeding a pigeon in the street. I repeated this to myself, clinging to a certainty that doesn't exist.

No. A human's life matters. It only matters when it interferes with the life of a warrior. A Raven. An Observer. My life. ὕβϱις—that's what he called it. We are taught so many useless words at the Nest, I've always thought. Words that can become weapons when needed, an attack disguised as defense.

You see, when humans try to get close to gods, when they stretch their filthy fingers toward greatness that doesn't belong to them, then the gods must put them back in their place. That's what he said. And there they held him, restrained by two, as if he were possessed by a Symbiont. Gods? Would we be the gods of this world? It's so absurd, so stupid, so cruel! I want those words from that monster to leave my head.

There is only one way to make things right, to prove you are still one of us, he continued, placing a sword in my hands. No electric warmth, just human metal. A weapon forged by humans for humans. Is this the price I have to pay for my research? For my studies? The lacquered grip slides so easily, the blade so sharp.

Why didn't I choose to look away that day? Why did I agree to give in to the call of this world? Why was it so easy to fall? Was it destiny? Mine or Matt's? Those eyes, his eyes, they kept looking at me. I heard his voice begging, shouting, angry with me, regretting every minute we spent together. Should I have spared his life and accepted exile? No, after everything I've done, everything I've endured. Can you really choose one life over another? Mine or his? Neither choice would have been the right one. Two innocents and a sword.

What would he have chosen? He wouldn't have saved me. He had too much to lose, despite the words he repeated to me for days, for hours, while I let him consume me, one caress at a time. I needed him, and he needed me. But that's not enough to save you from that choice.

I will obey the monsters, because it's the only way, but if they expect me to play by their rules, they're wrong. No one will ever have to endure this again. After me, I won't allow it to happen again. A swift blow, the utmost mercy I could offer in front of that team of monsters.

I hope you'll take your revenge on me, Matt. I want you to take your revenge on me. Torment me. Hunt me down. Tear me apart, day by day, until my last breath. If life were just, it would tear me from this earth with the same coldness with which I tore you from it.

I want to meet you again, at the end of that green flash.

The monsters she speaks of are clearly the other members of the Order. Were they the ones who ordered me to solve her problem? The human world seduced her and turned her into a traitor. Tear focuses harder, trying to recall the other details from that page. No, the date, like everything else, is from at least ten years ago. Has Cornelia relapsed? Has her attachment to the outside world resurfaced? And then there are those other words—scrambled, haphazardly scrawled on the last torn fragment. The ink is dark, heavy, the strokes thick and clumsy. There's nothing in those letters that speaks to the elegance of the rest of the journal entries.

Is this what they wanted to do? Fine. If only they had thought it through a little more. They have no idea who they're up against. This isn't my revenge, no. I've made peace with what happened to me. I've accepted my responsibilities. It's time for the others to accept theirs.

N.d.T.  X

I.d.T.  X

L.d.A.  X

M.d.Cn.  X

S.d.Cx.  X

H.d.Cx.  X

T.d.A.  X

N.d.Cn. X

E.d.T.

C.d.T.

N.d.Cx.

What are those initials? Why are all of them crossed out except for the last three? A revenge that's not hers. Then whose is it? A revenge for what?

The door opens just then. Eris enters barefoot, wearing one of Tear's shirts, the sleeves rolled up above her elbows, and a pair of black shorts.

"Stray!" That habit of entering without knocking really gets on my nerves.

"I'm making tea... Ah, wow!" She observes the tub full of water with awe. "So, this is how it works."

The Custos looks at her, confused. "This is how it works, wh... Hey, wait!"

The Wolf sits on the edge, dipping her feet into the warm water with a sigh of pure bliss. Tear bends his knees a little to give her space.

"I had a feeling standing up to bathe was nonsense," she moves her legs just enough to stir the foam. "If I'd known sooner, I would have laid in the water too. At the Den, there's nothing like this, and it's definitely not this comfy. We have to fetch water from the well, heat it up, then bring it to the bathroom... Here, you just turn a knob or pull a lever and get hot water."

"You've been here for months, how have you been managing until now?"

"Standing, obviously. Zahir told me that's how it's done," she pauses, her eyes seem to rummage through her memories. "Though, actually, in Turin they didn't have something like this. It was like a big square glass cylinder with that thing," she points at the showerhead, "hanging above."

The Wolf stretches her arms out toward the water, her fingers gliding over the transparent surface, weaving through the foam.

"Why are you here?" Tear sighs after a long silence.

"Oh, right!" The girl laughs. "I wanted to know if you wanted a cup of tea." The Raven raises an eyebrow. "Well, obviously after you finish your bath... Mh, you've worked less than usual today."

"Is that a criticism?"

"Oh no, no," the croí waves her hands, clearly uncomfortable. "It's just a bit strange. I'm glad you don't have to stay late in front of that screen."

"I've told you already, you don't need to worry about me," the custos leans his head back against the edge of the tub, his gaze fixed on the white ceiling.

"I don't know. You don't seem like someone who knows how to take care of yourself," her different eyes fixate on the raven. Tear shoots her a cold glance. "Do you want me to help wash your hair?"

"Why would you?"

"I don't know, just because," Eris shrugs. "Back at the Den, I'd do it with my friends and family. Asking someone to lather your back or hair isn't strange."

"Maybe for a Wolf."

"Don't you help each other out at the Castle?"

"I'm the wrong person to ask," even if that was how it worked, I wouldn't know. If they had the choice, no one's ever dared share the same air as me for more than ten minutes. Except Anice. But the girls have a separate bath; she wouldn't have been able to do much anyway.

Eris pulls her feet out of the water and walks to the other side of the tub. The custos watches her, part suspicious, part curious. What's she up to?

"Come on, make space," she pushes him by the shoulders, urging him away from the edge so she can sit. With the pearlescent liquid in one hand, she tilts the young man's chin up with the other. "Look up."

Her fingers sink into his dark hair, scratching at his scalp with force, her palms rubbing the tips.

"Stray, hey!" Tear protests, trying to pull away.

"If you move, the soap's going in your eyes."

"Then be gentle."

She ignores him. Dipping her soapy hands into the warm water, she leans over to the showerhead, patiently waiting for the right temperature before letting the water run over his dark, foam-drenched hair, one hand on his forehead to divert the flow away from his eyes. When she grabs more shampoo, Tear moves far enough to be out of reach.

"What are you doing? Running away?" Eris laughs and kneels in the tub to chase him.

The Raven sighs, bracing himself for round two. "This is the last time..."

Her fingertips press firmly into his skin with calculated force, and words stop flowing from his mouth, replaced by a light moan.

"I didn't know Ravens purred," the croí laughs. "What were you saying before? The last time of what?"

Tear doesn't answer, surrendering to the caresses, unable to think of anything else. He tilts his head back, almost as if asking for more.

"When I did this to Nini, she'd go wild," the sweetness of the memory fills the room, like a tender, unbreakable embrace. "Just touching behind her ears, and one of her legs would start kicking the air. I think Nest still teases her about it."

Her fingers move down to his neck, scratching the right spots, pressing as if reading the right path between the strands of black hair.

"And then my brother," at those words, a laugh slips from her lips, leaving behind a nostalgic smile. The atmosphere in the room shifts: the soft warmth seems to pulse with deeper, hypnotic shades. "Lyrion always teased me because I couldn't be gentle, but when it came to having his hair washed, he begged me. Maybe I have a gift."

She laughs again, her fingers combing the foam away as warm water drips over the Raven's head and forehead. Eris sits back down on the edge of the tub, her feet sinking into the foam up to her knees, her shirt and shorts clinging to her thighs, wet and heavy.

Tear's body moves instinctively, drawn to the warmth of that light. His shoulders find space between the Wolf's legs, and his head falls into her lap. The croí's fingers resume carefully combing through his dark hair, tracing the skin down to his neck.

"Do you miss him?" The question slips out uncontrollably from the custos's mind. "I mean, your brother."

"Yes," that answer seems to cost her more than she expected. Her voice trembles, as if struggling to hold back emotion. "He's the most important person to me. Lyrion was always the only one... no, never mind. It always ends up boring you when I talk about me and my life. Let's forget it."

"No," his gray-blue eyes lift to meet her mismatched irises. "If it's important to you, I want to listen."

"Lyrion was always the only one who wasn't afraid of my... anomaly," the Wolf explains calmly, the air around them tinged with a warmth that feels like a silent expression of gratitude. "When I was younger, I couldn't control it well, and everyone was afraid to be near me, to touch me—even my parents. It was different back then, a touch could have killed me. My soul just didn't want to stay in my body," a bitter laugh escapes her, followed by a sad grimace. "I lived with my skin covered from head to toe for I don't know how long. It was for my own good, to protect me, that's what my parents always said. But they hadn't felt my anomaly on their own skin. No one had—except my brother. And he... he was never afraid to touch me, never, even though I risked hurting him or disappearing into him."

Eris pauses, as if needing to catch her breath, her lips pressed into a pale line, her eyes fixed on the water as if considering how far she can go with this story.

"I... I wasn't always like this," she begins but stops again. "When the anomaly appeared, Lyrion had come looking for me in the woods. I had gotten lost because... because of something silly. I've never been good with directions," she lets out a laugh, but it sounds empty. "It only took him brushing my hand for everything to start. I felt myself being pulled under his skin, and suddenly my memories and my brother's memories started to blur. I couldn't understand what was happening, and I panicked. Lyrion held me tight, I could feel that he was scared too, but he didn't let go. He kept smiling at me, calling my name, saying everything would be fine, that I just had to think of happy things and breathe, that our father would find a solution, that he would never let me go. I just had to smile, like he did, and think of something happy. That was enough to bring everything back to normal, just like he said. I learned to control my anomaly for him, so I could hold his hand without hurting him. Even though he was never afraid to touch me, not even in the beginning, and he was the only one who ever bathed with me, I couldn't afford to make a mistake. I wanted to be strong and brave like him. I wanted to... well, it doesn't matter so much now. It's been so long."

A bright smile and happy thoughts. That's what she says the first time I saw her collapse from the miasma.

"I always end up talking only about myself," she laughs. This time it's genuine, and the atmosphere of the bathroom shifts—no longer tinged with that wistful sadness, but glowing with a warm, inviting cheer. "I don't know anything about you, or your family... but if you don't want to talk about it, that's fine. I'm not the nosy type!"

"My family..." Tear says the words almost mechanically, his mind and body still under the spell of that warmth. "The families of the Flock aren't at all like those of the Pack. A couple is selected for each Column to be the caretakers, and every chick from that Column is raised by that couple alone. Anice had the best guardians in all of the Nest; her Column has the most offspring by far. Mine hasn't had chicks in years. I'm the last, the only one, for now. My guardians... I don't even remember my first ones. I don't remember anything from my childhood," he adds, though from Lady Celeste and Lord Endimion's stories, he doesn't think he's missed much. "The ones I had after... they raised me in the only way they knew how."

"Oh," it's clear from the look in her eyes that a hundred questions are flooding her mind. But she only lets one slip out: "If you don't remember anything from before, then what's your first memory?"

My first memory? Tear closes his eyes, focusing. Eris's fingers continue to stroke through his damp hair. His first memory. He remembers crying desperately over something, but he can't recall what. Is that it? Lady Celeste always hated weakness. If you want, I can give you a great excuse to scream. She had said that. Eris's fingers, for a split second, transform into those of Lady Celeste—cold, cruel—ready to grab the dark strands, to dig her nails in deep, all the way to the roots, into his mind. That was the first time... the first time she took me...

The feeling of dominance—his specialty—sparks through his veins. His hand instinctively moves to his thigh, as if to grab the knife he always carries. Always, except there, in the bath. The atmosphere in the bathroom plunges into an inescapable cold, a desperation that spirals out of control. Eris's fingers freeze between the dark locks, her breath quickening. The Raven opens his eyes wide, his soul resonating with that slippery darkness he has felt before. His gray-blue eyes fixate on her mismatched irises, nearly swallowed whole by pupils as black as voids, ready to consume him. A lock of brown curls slips beyond her shoulder, brushing against the pale face of the custos, followed by a thin branch, a flowering vine. White flowers with pinkish hearts and yellow stamens.

The ripple in the boy's soul shifts. An invitation. Lips as red as blood seem to call to him, while the brown curls fill with hundreds of those white buds. I can stop fighting. I can stop carrying the weight of all of this. I'll finally be complete. No more fear, no more violence. Just a long, sweet oblivion.

Those lips move, silently whispering an endless litany. A bright smile and happy thoughts. Tear's pale fingers lift from the water, the overwhelming need to touch that face, to feel those lips.

A flower detaches and floats mid-air between them. The boy's gaze locks onto the delicate white detail. He lets it land on his fingertip. The burn strikes him like an electric shock to the brain. The sense of dominance vanishes from his veins, replaced by pure terror. He jerks back, sliding away from Eris's touch. His breath shattered, his heart racing. It takes his mind a moment to clear. It was about to happen again. His gaze flicks to the black stain of miasma on the tip of his finger, then shifts back to the girl. Her mismatched eyes are a mask of panic, scanning the room for an escape. A miasma almond flower. A déjà-vu. Just like that alley. The Incubus... She saw me. How much did she see? Does she know about my specialty?

"No... not again..." tears fill her lashes, her terrified gaze fixed on her open, damp palms as she drags herself out of the water and backs toward the door.

The Raven rises, taking a step out of the bath. For a moment, his attention flickers to the knife sheath resting on the sink's counter.

"Stray," the ice in that name sends a chill through Eris, freezing her in place.

"It won't happen again... it can't happen again..." She clenches her fists, on the verge of panic. "Please..."

Gray-blue eyes lock onto her mismatched irises without a word, watching her leave the bathroom, then remaining frozen in the void left by her departure—as if still sensing the lingering image of her at the door.

He bolts into the hallway after what feels like an eternity. The rooms on the first floor are empty, as is the ground floor. There's no trace of the Wolf, and with her, her shoes are gone. She's left. What was she about to do to me? The thought in Tear's mind is a mix of relief and anger, but not directed at Eris—at himself. What was I about to do to her?

̣⭒˙✵• ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯☽✮☾⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ •✵˙⭒ ̣