Sareth woke with that thought nailed in his mind like a splinter. Two weeks since the Rusted Anchor incident. Two weeks since Davos died. Two weeks since Kael changed. Or maybe he didn't change. Maybe he just became more of what he always was.
He sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes. The light of dawn filtered through the window, illuminating the books piled on his desk: "Siege Tactics of the Second Conflict," "Economy of the Great Houses," "Naval History of Stormvale." Words and more words. Knowledge he would never use.
'Because I cannot use a sword. Because my Aether is weak. Because I am... useless.'
He got up, walking to the window. From there he could see the training yard, already full of activity despite the early hour. And there they were. The three groups.
At one end, Rylan trained with the elders. His group was disciplined, precise. Every movement synchronized. Warriors in formation, following the golden heir. Rylan moved among them like a controlled storm, his electric blue Aether glowing faintly with every blow.
At the other end, Kael directed his own. Mika, Favius, already recovered from his broken ribs, and other minor initiates. They were not as polished as Rylan's group, but there was something different about them. Something wilder. Hungrier. And Kael... Kael moved among them like a chess master moving pieces.
And then there was Lyssara. Alone in the center of the yard, but not really alone. Varen was off to one side, watching her. She trained with an intensity Sareth had never seen before. Every strike, every form, executed with brutal perfection.
'Everyone has their place,' Sareth thought, gripping the window frame. 'Everyone except me.'
The dining room was silent when Sareth entered. Varen read documents at the head of the table, his breakfast untouched to one side. Elyn attended to two minor nobles who had arrived yesterday, her melodious voice filling the space with empty conversation about regional politics. Sareth sat in his usual place, at the end of the table. No one looked up.
'Invisible. As always.'
Servants brought him his breakfast. Bread, cheese, fruit. Simple food. Food appropriate for the son who didn't matter.
The door opened. Kael entered, still dirty from the morning training. Sweat stained his shirt, dust covered his trousers. It should have been improper to present himself like that, but no one said anything. Not even Elyn. Because now Kael was... different. He had something that made people look away when he broke minor rules.
"Good morning," Sareth murmured when Kael sat two seats away.
"Mm," Kael replied, reaching for a pitcher of water.
That was all. Sareth swallowed.
"Did you sleep well?"
Kael drank deeply before answering.
"Enough."
He didn't look at him. Didn't even turn his head.
'Enough. Not even "yes" or "no." Just "enough".'
"The training looks intense," Sareth tried again, hating himself for the desperate tone in his voice.
"It is."
Silence.
Lyssara entered then, still in her training clothes. She sat across from Sareth, a small smile playing on her lips as she observed the exchange between the brothers.
"Fascinating," she murmured, low enough for only Sareth to hear.
Sareth looked away, concentrating on his plate. Words got stuck in his throat. He wanted to ask Kael about his plans, about whether he still needed him for something, about whether they could talk like before. But the words didn't come out.
And Kael finished his breakfast in silence, got up, and left without another word. Sareth remained staring at his empty chair.
"Don't take it personally," Lyssara said, her voice soft but penetrating.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Sareth replied, but the lie tasted bitter.
Lyssara stood up, taking her plate.
"Of course not."
And he, too, was left alone.
The library was his refuge. It always had been. While Kael learned to fight and Rylan polished his role as heir, Sareth hid among shelves of dark wood and ancient scrolls. Here, among the words of men dead centuries ago, he could pretend his weakness didn't matter.
He settled in his favorite corner, near the window overlooking the east garden. The light was good there. Perfect for reading. He opened "Siege Tactics of the Second Conflict," but the words blurred. His mind wandered, returning again and again to Kael's absent expression at breakfast.
'He used to tell me his plans. He used to ask me what I thought. Now...'
The library door opened. Sareth didn't look up, assuming it was a servant. The sound of books being stacked made him look.
Carmen was by one of the shelves, organizing a precarious tower of heavy tomes. Her brown hair was tied back in a practical braid and she wore the librarians' work apron. She hummed something soft, a melody Sareth didn't recognize but that sounded... warm. For a moment, he just watched. The way she frowned slightly when reading the spines of the books. The way she bit her lower lip when deciding where to place each one.
He cleared his throat. Carmen startled, dropping a thick book that hit the floor with a crash.
"Sareth!" she exclaimed, bringing a hand to her chest.
"I... I hadn't seen you."
Sareth got up quickly, tripping over his own chair in the process.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."
"It's not... it's fine," Carmen bent down to pick up the fallen book, her face slightly flushed. "You're always so quiet."
"It's a gift," Sareth replied, trying to sound light. He failed. It sounded more bitter than he intended.
Carmen looked at him with those brown eyes, too perceptive for his own good.
"Do you need help? With whatever you're reading that has you so concentrated you didn't notice when I came in ten minutes ago."
Sareth blinked.
"Ten minutes?"
"Yes," Carmen smiled, small but genuine.
"I was reorganizing the military history texts. But you were... somewhere else."
'Somewhere else. Yes. Thinking about how I lost my brother.'
"I'm fine," he lied. "Just... thinking."
Carmen put the books on the shelf and walked toward him, her expression softening.
"Do you need help? With the books, I mean. Or... or just someone to be here."
Something in his chest loosened.
"The books are fine. But..." he swallowed.
"Company would be... nice."
Carmen's smile widened slightly. She sat on the nearby bench, patting the space next to her.
"Then sit. And tell me what you're reading that has you so distracted."
Sareth sat, maintaining a respectful distance. But not too much.
"Siege Tactics. Of the Second Conflict."
"Sounds fascinating," Carmen said, and to Sareth's surprise, she sounded sincere.
"Really?"
"Yes. Well," Carmen shrugged.
"It's probably not as interesting as the poetry books I prefer, but I like listening when you talk about these things. You... you light up."
Sareth looked at her.
"I light up?"
"Yes. Your eyes get different. Less..." she paused, searching for the word.
"Less sad."
Silence stretched between them. Not uncomfortable. Just... present.
"Am I sad?" Sareth finally asked, though he already knew the answer.
Carmen turned toward him, her expression serious now.
"Since Davos. Since Kael... since everything changed."
'She notices.'
"I didn't know him well," Sareth admitted.
"Davos. But Kael... Kael was there. And since then, he's been..."
"Distant?" Carmen finished softly.
Sareth nodded, looking at his hands.
"It's like he went to that bar and someone different came back. Or maybe he was always like this and I just... I just didn't want to see it."
Carmen's hand touched his. A light touch, barely a graze, but enough for Sareth to feel warmth spread through his arm.
"Sareth," she said softly.
"You're not like them. Like Kael or Rylan or Lyssara."
"I know," he replied, the bitterness returning.
"I'm weak. My Aether is..."
"No," Carmen's voice was firm.
"That's not what I meant."
Sareth looked up, meeting her eyes.
"You're different because you still... you still feel things. You still care about people, not just what they can do for you," Carmen squeezed his hand slightly.
"That's not weakness. It's... it's what makes you good."
Something cracked inside Sareth's chest. Not painfully. More like ice melting.
"How do you know that?" he whispered. "How do you know I'm not like them?"
Carmen smiled, sad but warm.
"Because you see me, Sareth. When you come in here, you see me. Not 'Ama Maren's granddaughter' or 'the library assistant.' You see me. And that's..." she paused, blushing.
"That's more than most people do."
Sareth didn't know what to say. Words got stuck, tangled with emotions he couldn't name. So he just squeezed her hand back. They stayed like that, in silence, while the morning light filtered through the windows and the smell of old paper enveloped them.
"Carmen," Ama Maren's voice echoed from the entrance, breaking the moment.
"I need you in the kitchen."
Carmen got up quickly, letting go of Sareth's hand. Her face was completely red now.
"I'm coming, Grandmother," she replied.
She turned to Sareth, biting her lip.
"Sareth? I'll be here again tomorrow. At the same time."
"Will you?" The hope in his voice embarrassed him, but he couldn't help it.
"Yes. And..." Carmen lowered her voice,
"you can tell me more. If you want. About anything."
She left before Sareth could reply, her quick steps echoing on the stone floor. Sareth was left alone in the library. But for the first time in weeks, he smiled.
The afternoon found Sareth on one of the upper balconies, watching the training yard. He shouldn't be here. He should be studying or... or doing something useful. But he couldn't help it.
Below, Kael directed his group in combat exercises. His voice was clear, authoritative. Mika obeyed every order without question, his movements mechanical but precise. Favius joked occasionally, but there was something in his tone, respect, perhaps fear, that had never been there before. And Kael... Kael moved among them as if he were born for this. Confident. Controlled. Dangerous.
'When did it happen? When did he stop being my brother and turn into... this?'
"Watching?"
Lyssara's voice made him jump. She was leaning against the wall, arms crossed. How long she had been there, Sareth didn't know.
"Just... looking," he replied weakly.
Lyssara moved to the railing, standing next to him.
"He's changed, hasn't he?"
Sareth didn't reply. He didn't need to.
"He used to seek you out," Lyssara continued in a neutral voice.
"He needed you. You were his confidant. His conscience, maybe."
"And now I'm nobody," Sareth finished bitterly.
"No," Lyssara corrected him.
"Now you are... optional."
The word hurt more than any insult.
"Why are you telling me this?" Sareth asked.
"To hurt me?"
"To prepare you," Lyssara glanced at him sideways.
"Kael is going to a place you can't follow, Sareth. Not because he doesn't want you to, but because you can't. You don't have the strength. You don't have the will."
"I have..."
"What?" Lyssara interrupted him. "Books? Knowledge? Kael doesn't need more information. He needs power. And you..." she paused.
"You remind him of who he was before. When he was weak. When he was invisible."
Sareth closed his eyes.
"So, what do I do?"
"You find your own path," Lyssara moved away from the railing.
"Or you stay here, waiting for him to need you. But I warn you, little brother, that wait could last your whole life."
She left, leaving Sareth alone with his thoughts and the distant sound of steel clashing against steel.
Sareth waited outside Kael's room until night fell. His back ached from leaning against the stone wall, but he didn't move.
'I just need to talk to him. I just need to...'
The door at the end of the hallway opened. Kael appeared, exhausted and dirty. Sweat and dust covered his face, and he was limping slightly.
"Kael," Sareth called, standing up.
Kael stopped, turning slowly.
"Sareth. What are you doing here?"
"Can we talk?"
Kael sighed, running a hand through his hair.
"I'm tired, Sareth."
"It will only be a moment. It's about..."
"About what?" Kael's voice hardened slightly.
"About how I feel? About Davos?"
Sareth recoiled at the tone.
"I just... I wanted to know if you were okay."
Kael studied him for a long moment. Then his expression softened slightly.
"I'm fine. Really."
But he didn't look him in the eyes.
"You've been different," Sareth insisted.
"Distant."
"It's been a tough two weeks. Nothing more," Kael opened his room door.
"I need to rest."
"Do you... do you still need me?" the words came out before Sareth could stop them.
"For what we talked about. About being useful."
Kael stopped in the doorway. Slowly, he turned to look at him. There was something in his eyes. Pity? Irritation? Sareth couldn't identify it.
"Sure, Sareth. When I need you, I'll let you know."
'When I need you.'
Not "of course I need you." Not "you'll always be important."
'When I need you.'
"I understand," Sareth said, his voice barely a whisper.
Kael nodded once and entered his room. The door closed with a soft click that resonated like thunder. Sareth was left in the hallway, staring at the dark wood. He heard movement inside: footsteps, the sound of water pouring.
'I used to be his confidant. Now I'm a tool on standby.'
He walked away slowly, his footsteps solitary echoes in the empty corridor.
He couldn't sleep. Sareth lay in his bed, looking at the ceiling of his room. Shadows danced with the light of the single candle lit on his desk.
'Kael has his path. Rylan has his. Lyssara is forging her own.'
He got up, walking to the window. The mansion was dark, only a few windows lit here and there. The sea roared in the distance, constant and indifferent.
'And me? What do I have?'
He thought of Carmen. Her warm eyes. Her hand touching his. How, for the first time in years, someone had truly seen him.
'Maybe I don't need to be like them.'
He sat at his desk, pulling out a blank paper. His hand trembled slightly when he picked up the pen.
'If I can't be strong like them, at least I can be useful in another way.'
He began to write. Words flowing slowly at first, then faster. He wasn't sure exactly what he was doing—a diary? notes? plans?—but it felt right.
'Kael no longer needs me as a confidant. But maybe... maybe I can find another way to matter.'
He wrote until the candle burned out, until his eyes burned with fatigue. And when he finally collapsed into bed, as sleep claimed him, a thought floated in his mind:
'Even if Kael no longer needs me... I still exist. And maybe that's enough.'
For now.