The ceiling above him was dimly lit by the pale wash of morning sunlight, fractured into weak slivers that slipped through the curtains. Aethon layed still, his eyes were beginning to adjusting slowly, his chest was rising and falling slowly with shallow breaths. The sheets beneath him smelled faintly of cedar and smoke. This smell filled his room. Which felt familiar and quiet. Yet, something in the air made it feel strange and different, like he had been gone for longer than he could recall.
Aethon heard the door open but did not bother to turn his head to see who it was. But when he finally decided to turn his head, he caught sight of Luna sitting in the chair besides his bed. Her silvery hair fell loosely over her shoulders, a glow around her face that contrasted with the fatigue in her eyes. She looked relieved the moment she saw him tune his head to face her.
"You're awake," she said softly, her voice sounded like a breath that had been released after being held in for too long.
Aethon blinked at her, his body felt heavy but his mind was oddly sharp. His throat felt dry as he began to spoke. "Luna…? How long have I been out?"
Her lips curled into a faint smile, though her fingers clutched each other nervously. "Two days. You've been asleep since… since the attack."
The words settled in his ears like cold water. Two days? He pushed himself upright, though his limbs protested. His body felt fine, but there was a strange unease lurking beneath the surface, like his skin was stretched too tightly across something he didn't understand.
"You scared me," Luna admitted, leaning closer. "I wasn't sure you'd open your eyes again."
Aethon rubbed his temple, fragments of memory began to flickering in his mind. The sound of trees breaking, the blur of movement, the smell of blood. And then, nothing. His jaw clenched.
"All I remember…" he began, his voice was low, "is fighting the entity. Its face, or we'll whatever passed for one, was staring at me. Then… blackness. The next thing I know, I'm here. Lying in my bed, in my room."
Luna tilted her head slightly, and began searching his eyes. "Do you remember nothing else? No dream, no voices, nothing?"
He shook his head from left to right and said,:"Just the fight. And then… nothing. Like the world just cut away."
Her gaze lingered on him for a brief moment, as if she expected him to say more. Then she sighed and leaned back. "You've been restless in your sleep. Muttering things I couldn't understand. I thought you were fighting something even while unconscious."
Aethon let her words sink in, although he didn't reply immediately. Inside, a quiet discomfort was beginning to brewing. His body felt healed, almost too healed. His wounds were all gone. Not even scars remained, more specifically the scar he had that the assassin from RIVIRIA gave him was gone as he looked at his shirtless body. Even he realized that wasn't natural, not even with the techniques passed down in their House.
He pressed his palm against his chest and frowned. "I feel… funny," he admitted. "Like something's wrong. My body feels fine, but I still can't shake this unease."
"Trauma can do that to a person," Luna said, her tone trying to reassure to him. She then followed thst by saying, : "You need time to rest. The body might heal, but the spirit… the spirit always lags behind."
Her words were soft, but he could see the shadows lurking within her eyes. She wasn't just worried about trauma, she was worried about him.
"I don't need rest," he muttered, swinging his legs off the bed.
"Aethon—"
"I'm fine."
He looked at her with a faint shake of his head, a stubbornness in his gaze that Luna knew well. She pressed her lips together, watching as he stood and steadied himself. His movements were fluid, too fluid, like his body had been reforged overnight.
Without another word, he walked towards the bathroom, the floor was cool beneath his bare feet. Luna remained in the chair, her eyes following him, uncertainty etched across her face.
Inside the bathroom, the faint smell of soap and stone greeted him. He turned on the sink and splashed cold water across his face, letting it drip down his jaw. The shock of the chill woke him fully, grounding him.
When he lifted his head to look into the mirror, his heart skipped.
The mark, the dark sigil that had branded the side of his face since he was a kid was gone. The skin where it had once been was smooth, unblemished. It had vanished. Disappeared as if it never existed in the first place.
He leaned closer, his fingers brushed against his cheek as if touching it would make the mark reappear. His brows started to furrow.
"…Impossible."
His reflection stared back, but something else made his stomach tighten. His left eye, once the same blue color as his right, now gleamed a deep crimson. It pulsed faintly, like a shard of fire in a sea of shadows.
He gripped the edges of the sink tightly, the porcelain groaning under the pressure.
What… happened to me?
He thought of the fight. The entity's claws, the blood, the moment when his instincts had taken over. He remembered how the Sanguinaether had surged through him, wild and untamed, how his threads had burned crimson with fire. He had lost himself to it.
And now, the mark was gone. His eye… transformed.
The realization slithered into his mind like a whisper: The Sanguinaether did this.
Of course it did. What else could it be? The blood that was no longer merely blood, but something older, hungrier, waiting beneath the surface. Something that had not been used in his bloodline for over 200 years.
Aethon started to exhaled slowly and began to loosen his grip on the sink. He then stared at the mirror for a moment longer, the boy staring back at him was like a stranger in his own skin.
From the doorway, Luna's voice broke the silence. "Aethon…?"
He glanced over his shoulder. She stood there, hesitant, her gaze flicking to his eye before quickly darting away.
"You saw it," he said quietly.
She nodded once. "It changed while you slept. At first, I thought it was a trick of the light. But it stayed crimson."
"Why didn't you say anything?"
"Because I knew you'd see it yourself. And because I didn't want to add to the weight you already carry due to everything thst has happened."
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Only the quiet drip of water from the sink filled the air.
Finally, Aethon straightened himself, turning fully to face her. He forced a faint smirk, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Well, crimson's not such a bad color. It suits me, don't you think?"
Luna chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Always pretending you're fine, even when you're not."
The sound of her laughter lightened the air abit, if only for a breath. But the unease within him remained, coiling tighter.
"Two days…" he muttered in a low voice, more to himself than her. "Two days lost. And I don't even know what I became out there."
"You became alive," Luna replied firmly. "You survived when others wouldn't have. That'swhat matters."
Her words were meant to comfort him, but Aethon only nodded absently. Inside, the reflection of his crimson eye burned in his mind. The mark's disappearance wasn't freedom, instead it was transformation, a rebirth. The Sanguinaether wasn't done with him. It was carving itself deeper into his being, piece by piece and he knew this. He knew that he had to do something to master it or else the next time he uses it and he let's his emotions get the better of him... Something bad will happen again.
As he dried his face and turned away from the mirror, he resolved silently: I need to understand it. Before it consumes me completely.
As he did this, Luna walked out the room without him noticing.
Has Aethon walked out the bathroom and looked around he saw Luna was gone and decided to put on some clean clothes.
Has he was about to put on his shirt he stopped and stared at his side were he had a scar that was giving to him by the assassin's he fought. His fingers lightly glided against his skin. The scar was gone. It was no longer there. Aethon knew that some scars fade over time and some don't. This wasn't the one that would fade over time, but here was the undeniable proof. It was gone. As he stared at it intensely he thought that maybe it wad the Sanguinaether, since it was a blood ability, maybe it repaired his skin tissue, restructuring his outer skin and making the scar dissappear.