Lioras – 13 Years Old – Diary Entry 279
... ... ...
Today was something, huh.
You're starting to get it now, right? The loop. The sense that my own growth is through my silence.
I love that word. It means more to me than the word love ever could.
You see, today was just another day—and yet it shows more than anything I could say.
Each one of their voices, a recognition of my weakness in some way.
Halric.
Oh, Halric.
I used to think that because you were older than me, you understood the world better.
But I realize now—I was just living a lie.
You can never truly help me the way you act like you can, because you don't understand the severity of it.
Halric, you are a good person.
But you are also willing to allow ignorance in bliss.
You only speak up when you know there will be no backlash.
You're one of my older brothers. You're supposed to protect me. Help me grow.
Instead, you let them push me. You let them make me question myself.
You say you want to help—but your actions say otherwise.
I always wanted your help. I needed it at times.
Sometimes I want to call out your name, because you're the only one who could probably save me from my fate.
But I can't.
Because even if I said it today—even if I told you the truth—
You wouldn't do a damn thing.
Not because you won't.
But because of your ignorance.
You see the world differently than I do.
And because of that, you can never truly understand my pain, no matter how much I say it.
Your blindness is your weakness.
And yet—your innocence is my light.
I remember thinking the world would be a better place if more people were like you.
I was wrong.
I was so wrong.
I wish I could've seen it before today—your true weakness.
The part that sickens me to call you my brother is that you ignore others' pain and still pretend*to care.
In my eyes, Halric—
You may be the worst one.
And yet... I still love you.
There's a part of me that cherishes your ignorance and innocence.
And I hate that.
I hate that I can't let that part of me go—the part that thinks you care, when you just want me to think that you do.
Ignorant.
And Jace...
You are, without a doubt, the one person I used to look up to.
I idealized my world around you when I was young.
You just seemed so assured. So strong.
I remember when you used to read me bedtime stories when the thunder got too loud.
I miss that.
The side of you that wasn't Dad.
The side of you that could make me laugh.
A time when we were brothers—not enemies.
I remember your anger so clearly today.
It hurt me in more ways than you could ever understand.
The disappointment in your voice—like you could blame all your problems on me.
How is it my fault?
Can't I be happy for a single moment?
When did it change, Jace?
When did we stop being brothers and you started being my reaper?
I loved you.
And yet all you want to do is hurt me.
I used to imagine us flying around in ships together, saving the galaxy.
But now...
I just can't wait for the day when I never have to see your eyes again.
And you...
You ugly bastard.
I can't remember a single moment in my life where you seemed happy.
You don't deserve this life.
There are people in worse positions who deserve what you have so much more.
You may be my blood.
We may share the same face.
But when I look at your face—and it reflects my own—all I feel is hatred.
I know you're the reason I am the way I am.
The reason the family is the way it is.
The reason Jace is the way he is.
And the reason Halric could've been so much more.
I may be a cynical person, but I don't feel much hate toward people—only toward the things that create those people.
The world around them.
But you...
You make me feel.
You make me rise from my nothingness.
You—who looks so much like me.
Who I act so much like.
Down to the way we speak. The way we walk.
"You have his eyes," they say.
Once, they meant it lovingly.
Now, it sounds haunting.
I hate how you make me feel unseen.
Like I don't matter.
Why?
Why couldn't you just give me something—anything—that could've given me a purpose?
But instead, you want me to fail.
You don't respect me.
You think my gifts are a mistake.
Because everyone else in this family thinks with their fists and not their hearts.
Well, I use neither.
I don't need a heart.
I don't need fists.
All I need is my genius.
It's the one thing that makes me better than you.
And you hate it.
You hate that I can become so much more than you and the rest.
So you won't allow me to.
You chain me to this world.
Acting ashamed.
Acting like I'm barely here—and yet needing me more than anyone else.
It's not like you idiots could've fixed that nav core.
And yet, you treat me like I'm nothing.
Like I'm the mistake.
And maybe you truly think that.
And if that's true, then let me remind you of something I needed to learn to survive:
Through silence, I gain strength.
And through my strength, I gain reality.
And that reality is this:
You are the biggest weakling of them all.
A coward among cowards.
I used to think there was something inside you.
But now I see the real you.
The robotic you.
The man who turned me into what I am.
And I just want to say...
Thank you.
Thank you, Sir.
For making me stronger than I could've ever imagined.
Each day, I grow smarter. Faster.
And one day—maybe you'll die.
And my chains will be set free.
But until that day...
Until that day, I will gain power through my silence.
And by the time you realize—
All of you realize—
It will be too late to stop me.
...
...
And Mom...
Mom...
I... I...
...No.
Not today.
This is enough.
This is my healing for now.
This is what I gain through my silence.
Reality.
... ... ...
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Pamarthe – Brune Family Hangar – Inside Ship
"Reality," Lioras whispered, thinking of the final word in his diary—a word that seemed so simple, yet meant so much more to him.
He enjoyed writing his emotions. It healed him in a way he couldn't quite explain. Putting words on the page helped him digest himself—to truly understand who he was. To love and hate himself at the same time.
The hole in the ship's roof was leaking again. Rainwater cascaded down the walls. Lioras sighed. This was getting ridiculous. A ship should be treated with love and care. Honestly, how did his father even fly this thing? One wrong turn and it would probably explode—taking him with it.
Lioras tutted. "Good riddance if it did."
His eyes fluttered as the morning sun poured through the hole, blinding him for a moment.
Yeah... probably time to make the trek home.
A low creak followed as he sat up. The nails in the mattress had left tiny impressions in his skin. His clothes were damp, and his throat was dry.
He took one last look at the room, wondering if maybe—just maybe—he could make it better one day. He might never get to use his genius on this planet, or even this island, but perhaps he could use it to fix this ship.
Lioras shook his head. No point dreaming when he was still living in a nightmare.
Outside, the hallway was quiet. The tools from last night were still scattered where he'd left them. The nav core still pulsed faintly in the dark—a quiet showcase of his work and talent.
At the ship's exit, he didn't say goodbye. Not because he didn't want to, but because every time he looked at this ship, it reminded him that there was a galaxy out there. And maybe—just maybe—he could have a purpose. Something more than what was planned for him.
Lioras had always wanted to be a pilot. To explore the stars. To fight pirates and the like. But his father never allowed it. He believed Lioras could never be a pilot—too different, too untraditional. He hadn't learned the same things his father had. In his eyes, Lioras didn't belong in space. He needed to stay and help the family.
That meant Lioras was destined to be a fisherman. A miner. A shop owner. All respectable paths—but not the life he imagined.
There weren't many ways off this planet, especially without money. And so, Lioras was stuck. Stuck with a family that hated him. On a land with no purpose, and no future in sight.
But the deepest wound? The one that cut the most?
Who his father saw as his successor.
Jace.
His duplicate.
His clone.
Lioras chuckled—not because it was funny, but because it wasn't. Just an empty laugh, the kind that slipped out when life felt too cruel to cry about.
And with that, he left the ship behind and stepped into the morning light.
---
Pamarthe – Village Path
The walk home would be long. But at least it would be quiet.
Lioras inhaled deeply, taking in the familiar scent of his home. The air on Pamarthe always smelled like dust and metal—like the planet itself had never quite healed from whatever came before.
The morning light was bright. The sky above stretched in a washed-out blue, streaked with thin clouds that looked like they'd been painted on with a tired brush.
As he walked the gravel path leading to his village, he wondered what today would bring. Would the loop continue? Or would his family surprise him—would something fresh and new begin?
He heard footsteps and lively chatter as he walked, each step leaving a soft imprint in the gravel. And when he reached the top of the path, he saw that the village was already awake.
Vendors were setting up stalls along the main road, their voices loud and cheerful in a way that felt almost offensive. Children ran past him, laughing, kicking a dented can like it was a ball. A woman nodded at him in passing. He didn't nod back.
Lioras walked in silence, hands in his pockets, eyes low—trying to hide in shadows that had never really been there.
Then he saw it—a home facing the cliffs and the raging shore. Not big, but not small either. A house built from stone and wood, carved by the hard work of generations.
It wasn't perfect, but it had heart.
He walked the path toward it, each step heavier than the last. At the door, he paused—like he was waiting for something. Or maybe just hoping for a reason to go on.
Slowly, he turned back. Away from the house. Away from the village. Away from everything.
Instead, Lioras looked up—at the stars.
Wondering if maybe... maybe he could make it there one day.To something bigger.Something more important.
Or maybe he was being too hopeful.
Maybe this was all he'd ever be.
Not everyone gets to be the hero.
Not everyone gets to be the villain.
Some just exist—trapped in the middle.
Lioras sighed, placed his hand on the rusted door handle, and stepped inside.
His home.
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