(Sora)
The silence that followed hit louder than any words; heavier than that of the guards whose corpses were dragged out. There was no happy reunion, no tears of relief, no joy. Mother didn't hug me when I untied her, she just massaged where her wrists were red and eyed me down, unsure whether I was her son or not, Kat didn't lunge into a tight embrace with tears flowing down my shoulders, instead she shifted uncomfortably beside Mother, swallowing hard, and even Ariana who tried to seem perfectly unharmed but failed miserably at it, she simply stared at me like I was some anomaly. Even the maids shifted awkwardly, muttering stuff amongst themselves.
The knights dragged out the assassin from my room alongside the other two who tried to escape; they didn't kick or scream or cry, no. They surrendered to the situation. They surrendered to me.
It was deafening, the silence. Nobody found the words to be said, nobody knew the sentences that were needed. And it made sense.
To them, I was out for a month, and suddenly woke up at the convenient time with renewed power; to them, it wouldn't add up.
But to me, to me it was different. It was mere moments, a simple discussion, and a verbally signed contract with Fate.
And that contract changed things for me. I never realized the possibilities, the feeling of arcane energy literally pulsating at your fingertips. I felt it. Usually, I'd just say an incantation, and the spell would happen. I never focused too much on the details, but now I see it. The arcane within me, the surrounding energy... it was clearer than ever before.
Finally, Mom spoke, hesitant.
"Sora... are you hurt?"
Her eyes searched for any indication of injury; she watched me get stabbed. And something told me she shouldn't have.
"Don't worry, Mom, they missed my heart," I said with a lazy wave.
"Sora...?" Katarina added softly while wincing, holding her left shoulder, which appeared through a tear in her robe, purple and swollen.
Mother, Sis, and Ariana leaned against the far wall—bruised, robes torn, still shaking. They weren't looking at the broken furniture; they were looking at me, wary.
I wasn't hurt, but I can't stop, won't stop. I need to save her. Need to save Ariana.
A deep breath, I took a deep breath and flashed my signature smirk, then I opened my mouth to respond.
"What was that?"
Ariana.
She spoke with conviction, with suspicion, with a sharp gaze meant for dissecting.
"You're not Sora. Sora is pathetic."
Not Sora? Be for real.
"Ouch. Come on, what makes you say that?" I replied, taking a step closer, but she lifted her hand, keeping me at arm's length.
She tightened her eyes. "What's changed?"
"I... don't know," I lied.
What could I possibly tell her? 'Oh yeah, I somehow found myself in Fate's domain in the realm of Princeps, whatever that is, oh, and I'm now her servant, and you're about to die within the year.'
Yeah no. It's better if I keep it to myself.
Before she pressed any further, boots thudded at the door.
Iliam entered.
His expression softened with relief. "Sora… thank the Princeps, I overheard the assassins and I just... You're really awake."
"Great, since when do you care? Thought you hated me." I brushed past him, but he grabbed my shoulder.
"Sora, wait—"
"Piss off," I warned, shrugging him off.
And that's when Katarina moved.
Not hesitantly.
But with full-force speed. She sprinted, bare feet skidding across the marble as she cut in front of me, arms wide, standing like she was ready to physically block the entire world from touching me.
"Kat?" I blinked.
For a second, she just heaved unevenly, shakily.
Then her eyes glassed over.
"Sora…" her voice cracked, and suddenly she didn't look like the sharp-tongued menace she usually was.
She looked like my sister.
"I—I missed you."
My chest tightened.
"Kat…"
"You... idiot!" she burst, and finally the tears came as she slammed her fists into my chest, over and over.
"You were asleep for a month! A whole month! We thought you were going to die. I thought you were—"
Her voice broke completely. So she grabbed me. No hesitation this time. She wrapped her arms around me, burying her face in my shirt. I let out a slow breath and rested my chin on her head.
"…Of course you missed me," I murmured.
"Shut up." She sniffed, burying her face deeper into my Henley.
Mother approached next, her steps light, unsure. She didn't embrace me the way Kat did, no, but she reached out with one trembling hand, barely brushing my arm, as if afraid I'd vanish if she touched me too hard.
She looked like she wanted to hug me too, but she held herself back, sensing something different—something she couldn't place but couldn't ignore. Though her smile remained gentle, more relief and love this time than whatever that was a few moments ago.
"I'll... file the report," Iliam said, squeezing past us and storming down the hallway. And for some weird reason, it reminded me of our duel a few days... over a month ago. The duel I won by cutting his cheek. Haha, dunno why, but the way he stormed off just felt familiar.
It's okay, I'm okay. They were just shocked, and everything will be back to normal.
But Ariana?
I turned towards her with Kat still sniffing in my chest.
She didn't move. She didn't speak. She watched silently, sharply, unblinking. Her gaze pinned me harder than any blade in that room had, tracing every change in me, every breath that didn't belong to the Sora she barely knew in the first place. Suspicion coiled around her like a second skin, but beneath it… something pulsed. Warm. Unspoken. The faint pull in my chest answered it, tugging as the invisible thread Fate spoke of was tightening, drawing us toward a point neither of us was prepared for.
She looked at me not as an enemy… but as someone who shouldn't exist—and someone she might be forced to trust anyway.
Her lips parted, barely, as if she wanted to say something but stopped herself. Her bruised shoulders rose in a shaky breath she tried to hide. And still, she didn't look away.
Neither did I.
Our eyes locked, and everything in the room simply became background noise, quiet silence from my sister in my embrace to my mother with her smile, and for the first time, I felt something other than disdain towards her. I felt... pity.
Pity, because her death was inevitable. Pity, because I knew something she didn't. Pity, because her future was already written—and because I was going to be the one to tear it apart to save her.
Her crimson eyes flickered, hesitation warring with a pull she didn't understand. I felt it too. Felt it anchoring me to her, dragging my breath from my lungs.
And in that moment, neither of us looked away. Neither of us could.
I don't love her.
But still.