Elijah sat alone in the isolation chamber, a pale room of stone and runes, barely touched by warmth. Through the enchanted glass window, he could see students outside, walking through the corridors with laughter and ease. A world he could no longer reach.
He sighed and whispered to himself, "When I came out of the office room second time, Elbeth was waiting. She looked... broken. She apologized countless times, and eventually cried."
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "But Master—Alaric—he held her. Of course he did... she's his fiancée."
Elijah leaned against the cold wall, watching students beyond the enchanted barrier, knowing none remembered what had happened.
"Thanks to Professor Clark," he muttered. "The news didn't spread. And Principal Belbub... he cast memory erasure magic. Every student who witnessed it had the incident wiped from their minds."
The price of secrecy was steep. They had taken his Musagi—his soul weapon—and locked him away under the pretense of treatment and observation.
Only a few people were permitted to visit. The Vice Principal. Professor Renna. Alaric, sometimes.
He stared down at his hand. Small white lights, like fading stars, pulsed briefly from his skin... and disappeared.
"As expected," Elijah said, voice hollow. "My essence... it's getting weaker."
He took a glass of water and swallowed the bitter medicine beside his plate.
"This is the medicine that reduces my pain," he murmured. "But the symptoms... they're worse than I ever imagined."
Sudden, stabbing heart pain
Brief moments of paralysis
Shortness of breath that felt like drowning
And headaches that made him wish for unconsciousness
"Sometimes," he whispered, "I pray for my essence to disappear completely... maybe then, the pain would stop."
But even in pain, questions haunted him.
"Why is my essence taking longer to shut down? Normally, it collapses within a week... but it's been four. Why?"
And worse—
"Who told me to drink the Red Elixir? Why did I even do it?"
He clutched his head, confused. The memory was foggy, like a dream turned nightmare.
"At first, I was sad… but not for myself. I just didn't want to leave my friends behind. Only they know my condition."
The door clicked open. Elijah turned.
Alaric stepped in, carrying a sealed vial of dark-blue liquid. "How's your day going?"
Elijah gave a dry smile. "Like a prisoner's."
Alaric chuckled and handed him the elixir. "Drink this. It will help to shut down your essence faster."
Elijah raised an eyebrow. "Another torture?"
Alaric grinned. "Maybe. But I want to see you out of this isolation soon."
Elijah lowered his gaze. "And then what? I'll be just a commoner. Weak. Powerless."
But Alaric's eyes glinted with something more.
"We're planning to reopen your essence."
Elijah's head shot up. "If you do that… you'll go against the system!"
Alaric nodded, unbothered. "Yes. I will. I don't care what happens to me."
He stepped closer, voice dropping with emotion.
"If the world rejects you, I'll accept you.
If the world tries to kill you, I'll be your sword and shield.
If they dare point fingers, I'll tear them off.
If they blame you… they'll have to go through me first."
Elijah's eyes welled with tears. He had buried those feelings long ago—but now, they returned, flooding him. "Why…?" he asked, voice trembling. "Who am I? I'm nothing but a disgrace. A mosquito... unworthy…deciple."
Alaric gently placed a hand on his shoulder. His voice was soft.
"Because I promised someone I'd protect you."
Elijah looked up through watery eyes.
"You have her hair," Alaric whispered. "Her eyes."
"…Who?" Elijah asked. "Who is she?"
Alaric paused for a long moment, then said quietly, "Your mother."
The words struck Elijah like lightning.
Time stopped.
The world around him fell silent—no humming magics, no distant footsteps beyond the isolation room—only a vast, echoing nothing as the weight of those two words crashed into him.
Your mother.
His breath caught in his throat. His fingers trembled as he slowly turned his head to look up at Alaric, eyes wide, glassy, and confused.
"M-My… my mother?" he whispered, the word foreign and fragile on his lips.
It was as if he was saying it for the first time in his life.
He had always known he was different. That his origins were hidden. But he had never imagined hearing that word—mother—with such weight behind it.
"Where is she?" he asked, voice breaking. "Is… is she… alive?"
But the way Alaric looked away…
That silence was louder than any answer.
"I'm sorry."
Elijah's knees buckled. He dropped to the ground, unable to feel anything but the hollow ache spreading through his chest. His fingers clutched his arms. His breathing became ragged.
She's gone.
Tears burst forth, hot and uncontrollable. Not quiet tears, but years of buried sorrow erupting at once.
"I didn't even know her name…" Elijah sobbed. "I never got to meet her… to touch her hand… to call her mother…"
Alaric kneeled beside him and didn't speak. He simply waited, placing a steady hand over Elijah's back.
"Why now?" Elijah cried. "Why did you keep it from me?"
Alaric answered quietly, "Because I didn't want your heart to be built on pain. But now… I owe you the truth."
He reached into his coat and pulled out a worn photograph, its edges slightly frayed.
"Her name was Sasha van Abraham," he said softly.
"And your father… Victor Everheart."
Elijah's trembling hands took the photo.
A radiant woman in royal black attire, holding a baby. Her smile was like sunlight—warm, distant, and unreachable now. Beside her stood a man with flowing silver-blue hair and a noble presence. They looked like something out of a dream.
"They were murdered," Alaric said with sorrow. "I couldn't protect them. But I swore I would protect you."
Elijah stared at the photo, unable to look away. His tears blurred the faces, but his heart already knew them.
"Mother… Father " he whispered, for the first time in his life with meaning.
He clutched the photo to his chest and wept, not for his power, not for his isolation, but for the family he never got to know.
Alaric remained silent beside him, standing like a guardian statue.
"If you wish for revenge," Alaric finally said, "then become sharper than any blade. Stronger than any stone. But whatever you become—let it be your choice, not your curse."
He stood, cloak rustling.
Elijah clutched the picture. "Tell me more! What should I do? This isn't enough!"
Alaric looked back, eyes proud. "Believe in yourself. Trust your friends. And don't get hurt while I'm alive."
He stopped at the door.
"And remember—don't tell anyone. Not even your friends. This secret stays between us, Elijah."
Elijah nodded, wiping his tears. "Thank you… Uncle."
And then, Alaric was gone.