To say he was exhausted was an understatement.
It was then he realized how truly infinite a child's energy could be.
Altair and Sylas were tireless — bounding from one end of the boutique to the other, testing every glowing accessory, arguing over which mood-reactive fabric shimmered best under ultraviolet light.
He, on the other hand, was a corpse being dragged through retail hell.
"What are we even doing here?"
"Shouldn't they be trying to look for their costumes…"
But he decided to reserve his comment. It had been a while since he spent time with his father and second brother.
A whole lifetime ago, actually, he thought sardonically.
Even though he felt slightly — actually, extremely — overwhelmed, he didn't really hate it and decided to enjoy their overenthusiastic company.
He was brought out of his thoughts by Altair's voice.
"Lucien!" Altair called, waving another item like a trophy. "Look at this — it changes color depending on how smug you feel!"
"That explains why it's glowing so brightly. Probably feeling so cool right now, aren't you?" he muttered, though it was still audible.
Sylas laughed so hard he almost dropped a mannequin. "Oh, burn! He got you good, Alt!"
Altair clutched his chest in mock pain. "You wound me, brother. Truly." Then, with shameless confidence, he added, "But what can I do? I simply can't control how unimaginably awesome and great I am."
Lucien was too speechless and amused to reply to this shameless brother of his — but Sylas wasn't.
"Ehh… who the hell are you talking about? Is there someone else named 'I'?" he asked in a monotone.
Lucien could only hear them squabbling as he walked toward another aisle.
That was when someone caught his gaze.
Father was still wandering nearby, examining fabrics with the kind of seriousness one reserved for interstellar treaties. His pink cloak fluttered behind him, catching the light like a cosmic disgrace.
When he caught Lucien looking at him with restrained amusement, he only shrugged.
"I've come to terms with my shame," he said gravely. "It builds character."
Lucien sighed, long and heavy. "At this rate, you'll have the most character in the room."
Father chuckled — the tired, quiet kind that came from a man both proud and painfully aware of his choices. "That's the curse of parenthood, son."
The store's AI duck, Quackston, floated by just then, scanning Father's outfit with a cheerful beep. "Fashion level: emotionally compromised!" it chirped.
Altair and Sylas exploded into laughter. Lucien tried not to, but failed spectacularly.
For a few seconds, it was just them — laughter echoing against shifting hologlass, colors bending with their breath.
It was ridiculous. Loud. Pointless.
And he wanted to remember it exactly like this.
Because deep down, he wanted this moment to never end. It was unfortunate — if it had been before, he wouldn't have ever dared to wish for a second chance to be with his family. Maybe he would have wished for the death of that bastard Stormblade… or the depletion of that animal's bloodline, and for everything that asshole achieved to turn to ashes. But now, he suddenly felt that wouldn't be the case anymore.
Now he didn't even want to think of letting this chance go. Just like how a man who has never seen the light is unafraid of darkness, the man who has glimpsed it would be reluctant to return to the desert.
Once, he would have wished for Stormblade's ruin — his bloodline turned to ash, his achievements forgotten. But now… now he just wanted to hold onto this moment, this impossible second chance.
A few hours earlier, he'd been embarrassingly sentimental about family and second chances and all that philosophical nonsense about light and darkness.
Yeah… scratch that.
He wanted out.
You're probably confused, so here's the update: as they strolled through the mall, Second Brother (in his infinite wisdom) thought it a brilliant idea to remove their masks. Obviously, Father and I — being the only ones with sufficient brain cells — firmly refused, but unfortunately, Altair and his partner in felony could not be stopped.
Guess which lucky gentlemen are now running for their lives, chased by heroic fanatics?
Ding ding ding — you got it.
Bloody us.
"ALTAIR, YOU FOOLISH BARBARIAN!" he screamed as he ran with all his might — but his own tiny, chubby eight-year-old legs were proving tragically incompetent.
He was exhausted; he felt like he was about to faint. But suddenly, he felt himself rising.
Am I ascending? Is this the end… again?
He looked up to see the beautiful yet masculine face of his father — carrying him to freedom, sacrificing his arms for his son's survival.
Lucien's eyes shined with disbelief, heartache, and warmth.
My knight in pink cloak.
They finally ducked into the food court — a neon jungle of sizzling grills, holographic menus, and merciful anonymity. Lucien slumped into a seat, tugging his hood low as Father adjusted the new disguise filter over his face, restoring their unremarkable, "totally-not-wanted" appearances.
Altair collapsed across the table with dramatic flair. "If I die, tell Mother I died a hero."
Sylas snorted. "You died an idiot. There's a difference."
"Semantics," Altair murmured, reaching for the nearest tray of dumplings as if it were sacred treasure.
Lucien didn't even argue. He was too busy inhaling noodles with the kind of desperation known only to fugitives and eight-year-olds with bottomless appetites.
"Only he knew how close he'd come to ascending — to joining Quill and Stardust again..."
"Father sat across from them, dignified even while eating mall noodles — still draped in that absurdly elegant pink cloak.
'tsk poser'
For a brief moment, peace returned. The chaos outside was replaced by the hum of chatter and the soft clatter of utensils
— a small, borrowed calm in a day that had been anything but.
When they finally rose to leave, bellies full and disguises stable, Lucien let out a long sigh of relief. "At least it's over."
Then he froze mid-step.
"Wait."
' he suddenly realized that they hadn't even bought the costume this barbarian of a brother and joker best friend of his needed, but who was he kidding.....
He was too bloody tired and needed as much rest and peace....
He decided to keep quiet and let mother handle it when they returned'
Altair turned lazily. "What now?"
"Nothing just recalled something, forget it " he waved dismissively
Sylas turned and asked lazily
"So like..... Home ? "
"Yes, please," Father replied, leading us toward the transport pods — our ridiculous day finally at its end.