(Note: you can skip this but not recommended, as this is the backstory Of Silas before the reincarnation)
Silas was seven when he realized the air in the house changed before the storm hit. It became heavy, smelling of cheap grain alcohol and the metallic scent of the coal mines. He held five-year-old Elias by the hand while three-year-old Jude gripped the hem of his shirt.
The sound of a heavy glass hitting the kitchen table signaled that their father was moving. Silas didn't waste a second. He ushered his brothers toward the small bedroom closet, shoving them behind a wall of hanging coats.
"Stay quiet," Silas whispered, his voice barely a breath. "Don't come out until I knock twice."
He closed the door and turned around just as Thomas Thorne filled the doorway. Thomas was a massive man, his shadow stretching long across the floorboards. He looked at Silas with bloodshot eyes that held no warmth, only a simmering, directionless resentment.
"Where are the boys?" Thomas growled.
"Asleep," Silas said.
Thomas took a step forward, his boots heavy on the wood. He noticed the dark swelling on Silas's cheek—a mark from the older kids at the edge of town who targeted him because he never fought back the way they expected. He just stood there and took it, waiting for them to tire out.
"You look pathetic," Thomas muttered, reaching out to grab Silas by the shoulder. His grip was like a vice, fingers digging into the bone. "Always coming home with marks on you. You're a coward, Silas. Just like the rest of this family."
'I'm not a coward,' Silas thought, his teeth gritting together so hard his jaw ached.
"I fell," Silas said, his voice monotone.
Thomas didn't care for the excuse. He gave a sharp, violent shove that sent Silas stumbling back. Silas hit the corner of the wooden bed frame. A sharp, hot pain spiked in his side, making his vision swim for a second, but he didn't make a sound. He couldn't. If he cried out, Elias or Jude might get scared and run out to help him.
He forced himself back to his feet immediately, stepping back into the space between his father and the closet. He stood his ground, his small frame trembling with adrenaline, but his eyes never left the man in front of him.
Thomas looked at him for a long beat, his lip curling in a mix of boredom and disgust. He didn't see a son; he saw a nuisance. Without another word, he turned and stomped back toward the kitchen, the floorboards groaning under his weight.
Silas stayed exactly where he was for a long time. He waited until he heard the heavy, rhythmic snoring from the living room. Only then did he allow himself to let out the breath he'd been holding.
He walked to the closet and gave two soft, distinct knocks. The door creaked open, and two pairs of terrified eyes looked up at him.
"Is it over?" Elias whispered.
Silas nodded, pulling them both into a silent hug. He felt the coldness of the room, the isolation of their life on the edge of the frontier, and the weight of the years ahead.
'One day,' Silas thought, staring at the flickering candlelight through the doorway. 'One day, I'll be strong enough that no one can ever touch us again.'
Silas sat on the edge of the mattress, pulling the thin blanket higher over Elias and Jude. The cramped bedroom smelled of damp wood and the stale smoke that constantly seeped under the door. From the living room, the heavy, uneven rhythm of Thomas's snoring vibrated through the thin drywall. Every creak of the floorboards felt like a threat, keeping Silas wide awake.
Elias shifted in his sleep, his small hand grabbing the edge of Silas's shirt.
"Go back to sleep, El," Silas whispered.
The room was freezing. The wind outside rattled the poorly sealed windowpane, whistling through the gaps. They lived in a rundown neighborhood where nobody looked out for anyone else. Silas looked down at his own hands. They were small, but already calloused from doing the heavy lifting around the house to keep Thomas off their backs.
He stood up and walked to the window. In the distance, beyond the grid of broken streetlights, he could see the bright, distant glow of the city skyline. The people who lived in those high-rises didn't worry about the cold. They didn't worry about where their next meal came from, or if their father was going to wake up in a violent rage.
Silas pressed his forehead against the cold glass. He thought about the dog-eared paperback fantasy books he always checked out from the school library. Stories about mages, spells, and ancient monsters. In those books, if you were pushed around, you could learn magic and fight back. You could actually win.
'I wish magic was real,' he thought, his jaw clenching as he stared out at the bleak street. 'If I had that kind of power, I'd make sure no one could ever touch us again.'
But this was the real world. There were no mages coming to save them.
He stayed by the window for hours, watching the shadows stretch across the cracked pavement. When the first grey light of dawn began to bleed through the smog, Silas finally stepped away. His body ached. He walked over to the bathroom sink and splashed his face. The water was freezing, shocking him awake.
He looked at his reflection in the stained mirror. The bruise on his cheek had turned a deep, ugly purple. He didn't look away. He memorized it. It was just another reminder of why he had to get stronger.
Elias and Jude started to stir, the younger one reaching out for Silas immediately.
"Time to get up," Silas said, keeping his voice low. "We need to get outside and clean up the empty bottles from the porch before he wakes up. If the house is quiet, maybe he'll just go back to sleep."
He knew it was a gamble. Thomas didn't need a real reason to snap. But Silas had to give his brothers a plan, something to focus on so they wouldn't just sit around waiting to be a target.
As he led his brothers out the back door and into the biting morning air, Silas didn't look back at the house. He looked down the empty street, his expression hardening. He was just a kid trapped in a bad situation, but as he stepped onto the freezing concrete, he made a promise to himself. He was going to get his brothers out of this hell, no matter what it took.