As the heavy iron chains clashed against one another, their clinking—clink... clank...—sliced through the morning silence and echoed in the alley. Kelen's trembling hands unlocked the massive latch.
He let the chains fall. As he pushed the door, the old hinges let out a long, weary groan—creeeak.... Kelen lifted his gaze, peering into the gloom of the house.
Near the dining table, he saw a familiar silhouette. Zara was sitting there, her head resting on the table. The heavy sound of the door and the falling chains had jolted her awake.
From her shallow slumber, Zara slowly lifted her lashes and took a long stretch, her bones letting out a faint crack. Midst the haze of sleep and exhaustion, her eyes locked directly.
Onto the figure standing at the door, who was smeared with blood and gunpowder soot. Kelen stood frozen at the threshold, as if confirming that what he saw was real.
"You... what took you so long?" Zara asked, managing the heaviness in her voice. The long fatigue of waiting was clearly reflected in her eyes. Kelen gave no answer.
He walked with heavy steps and stood directly in front of Zara. A mixture of worry and a strange anger swirled in his eyes. "What exactly are you doing down here?"
His voice was dry and heavy. "You should have been in your room. Did you... were you sleeping on this chair all night?" A flash of irritation appeared on Zara's face.
She rubbed her dry eyes and said in a slightly sharp tone, "I was hungry... and I asked a question, Kelen. Why are you so late?" Kelen felt the pain.
And the demand for answers hidden in her words. He loosened his fists and hid his injured hand behind his back. His voice softened ever so slightly. "Just wait a little while."
Kelen said without looking into her eyes. "I... I will make something for you right now." He turned and headed toward the kitchen, where the faint morning light was filtering.
Illuminating the dust scattered on the floor, Kelen was about to take a step toward the kitchen when a soft yet firm touch halted him. Zara had caught his hand.
The warmth of her fingers against his cold, rough skin felt like a sudden jolt. She pulled him back toward the dining table and motioned for him to sit on the chair.
"It's not necessary. You stay seated here," Zara said in a low voice. Her tone was no longer sharp; instead, it held a softness that made Kelen's exhaustion feel even more profound.
"I have already prepared the food." Kelen's massive frame collapsed into the chair. His eyes were drooping, yet he followed Zara's every move. She went into the kitchen.
She returned moments later with plates of steaming breakfast. She set a prepared plate before Kelen. The savory aroma of the steam lightened the heavy air of the room ever so slightly.
"Eat," Zara said, looking into his red, swollen eyes. "And then go to sleep. The redness in your eyes tells me you are losing the battle against exhaustion."
Kelen opened his parched lips to ask something, but Zara raised her palm in the air, silencing him. "Breakfast first, Kelen. We will talk later." The only sound was clinking.
The faint clinking of spoons—clink... clink.... Kelen kept his head bowed, his gaze fixed on his plate. He took a bite, but his mind was elsewhere. "But yesterday..."
Kelen said, keeping his voice very low, "you were so angry. Today... what happened to you?" Zara pushed her plate slightly away and leaned back against the chair.
"I am still angry," she said, looking directly into Kelen's eyes, "but right now, you should go upstairs and rest." Kelen lifted his heavy lids to look at her.
"Did you sleep well?" Zara slowly nodded her head. "Yes, I fell asleep. I only sat on the chair after finishing the cooking this morning. I was just waiting for you..."
"I didn't realize when I drifted off while waiting." She exhaled a long, tired breath. "Don't be stubborn now. Go upstairs and sleep." Kelen broke off a piece of food.
But his throat felt parched. He felt the rough texture of the table and said in a low voice, "I... I don't stay here often. My visits here are rare."
"Which is why I only cleaned that room for you." Zara snapped her face away, a sharp flicker of irritation in her eyes. "Don't argue. Just sleep upstairs in my room."
She said in a heavy tone. Kelen opened his lips to protest, but Zara was already up from her chair. "I'll be back in just a little while," she said.
Without looking back, the sound of her footsteps hurried toward the main door, followed by a—thud!—as the door closed, deepening the silence of the house. Kelen was left alone.
In the emptiness of the home, he exhaled a long, weary breath and headed toward the stairs with heavy steps. Most of the climb was silent, but for one old plank.
In the middle—creak...—the sound momentarily pierced the stillness of the house. A few more silent steps followed until, just before reaching the top, another stair groaned under his weight.
He reached the top and pushed open the door to Zara's room. As he sat on the edge of the bed, he realized his body was finally giving in.
He let himself fall backward onto the mattress. His feet remained planted on the floor, and his eyes gazed at the wooden rafters of the ceiling. Slowly, he closed his lids.
As darkness clouded his vision, a gust of memories pulled him into the past. He felt two soft touches on his left and right. Two small figures lay on the bed.
Each holding one of his hands—Zara and Mia. Kelen's face in that memory was filled with irritation and anger, as if he were fed up with their mischief.
But neither Zara nor Mia cared for his temper. Gripping his strong hands in their tiny ones, they were both submerged in a deep, carefree sleep. In that memory, his anger melted.
The rhythm of their quiet breathing silenced the noise within him. He didn't realize when, still holding both their hands, he too drifted into that deep and peaceful embrace of sleep.