The first lights of the morning filtered through that fake but peaceful sky of the manor and filled Auren's room. Auren slowly opened his eyes. Pushing aside the heavy quilt covering him, he sat up in bed and pulled his knees to his chest. Leaning his head against the cold windowsill, he began to watch the silence outside.
However, this tranquility outside was not enough to silence those loud and bloody memories in his mind.
Sira and Thalos appeared before his eyes. Thalos lunging forward like a giant shield with his massive body to protect them... But there was only one moment truly engraved in his mind, replaying like a nightmare every time he closed his eyelids: Sira.
The moment when Sira shielded him without hesitation, just as Rrnaun's lethal blow was about to strike Auren. That moment when the cold steel pierced through her flesh... and as she collapsed to the ground, that final, affectionate smile she forced onto her blood-covered face just so Auren wouldn't be frightened any further.
That smile had carved a much deeper wound into Auren's heart than Darven's sword. Sira's sacrifice had placed a burden of guilt upon his shoulders that was too heavy for him to bear.
Auren's green eyes filled with tears. Pressing his chin against his trembling knees, he whispered into the void in a broken and desperate voice:
"I wish... I wish I had died instead of Sira."
"Don't be foolish," said a smooth and ancient voice coming from the corner of the room. "Why would a child like you want to die at this age?"
Auren's breath caught in his throat. He turned his head so quickly toward the direction of the voice that his neck hurt. His heart felt as though it would leap out of his chest the moment he saw Aelrindel sitting on the wooden chair in the dim corner of the room, holding an old book. As he tried to jump back in shock and panic, his legs got tangled in the quilt. Losing his balance, Auren slipped off the edge of the bed and tumbled onto the wooden floor with a dull thud.
Looking down at Auren, who was squirming in pain while holding his elbow on the floor, Aelrindel slowly closed the book in his hand and let out a deep sigh.
"You're finally awake," the old elf said; there was a slightly weary yet equally fatherly tone in his voice.
As Auren sat on the floor, he stared at this imposing elf before him with his large, terrified green eyes wide open. His gray hair spilled over his forehead, and his heart was pounding against his ribcage.
"You..." Auren stammered, his voice trembling with fear and astonishment. "When did you get here?"
Aelrindel stood up from the chair with slow and graceful movements. Without tapping his staff on the ground, he walked over to the boy sitting on the floor with silent steps. With his tall stature, he leaned down slightly to Auren's level. He raised his long and slender fingers and tapped Auren's forehead lightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to be felt.
Tap.
As Auren flinched and immediately brought his hand to his forehead, Aelrindel looked directly into the boy's eyes with that centuries-old seriousness on his face.
"Do not address me formally," Aelrindel said, with absolute authority in his voice that accepted no objections. "Call me Master."
After that light tap he felt on his forehead, Auren nodded quietly while looking into the old elf's serious, uncompromising eyes. He didn't have the strength to object.
"You will not have your breakfast in your room today," Aelrindel said, lowering his voice to a normal level but maintaining its commanding tone. "You will at least go downstairs and have it together with the other children."
Auren swallowed. He lowered his eyes to the ground and gave no answer. The idea of going out and sitting at a crowded table with other children caused his stomach to cramp. The walls of fear in his mind were still too thick.
Aelrindel had noticed the boy's silence and resistance, but this time he had no intention of making any concessions. Leaning on his staff, he walked toward the door.
"I will be waiting in front of the door until you are ready," he said while holding the door handle. He turned over his shoulder and cast one last glance at Auren. "Remember, you will leave this room today."
The door closed with a solid thud. Auren was left all alone in the middle of the room.
He stood where he was for a while and looked at the door. His breathing had quickened. But on the other hand, he remembered Zirel's words and Nythar's affectionate pat on his head. He slowly walked to the edge of the bed. With trembling hands, he put on the clean linen clothes that the servants in the manor had prepared and left for him. He was struggling, his heart was pounding in his chest, but he managed to get dressed.
When he was ready, he stood in front of that heavy oak door of the room. For minutes, he merely looked at the wood carvings. He was afraid to touch the handle, as if it were engulfed in flames. He took a deep, shaky breath, squeezed his eyes shut, and pushed the handle down.
When the door opened, Aelrindel was leaning against the wall of the corridor with his arms crossed over his chest, waiting for him, just as he had said. Seeing the boy step outside, that centuries-old, tired expression on his face was replaced by a very slight, pleased smile.
"Good," Aelrindel said, straightening up and tapping his staff on the ground. "Since you've locked yourself in your room, you probably don't know the manor either. Follow me."
With Aelrindel in the front and Auren a step behind him, they began walking down the wide, magnificent corridor paved with black marble. The interior of the manor was much larger than Auren had imagined; the ceilings were high, and the walls were adorned with centuries-old paintings and enchanted torches that never went out.
As Auren walked silently, tugging at the edge of his shirt with his hands, that childish curiosity inside him began to outweigh his fear.
"Um... Master..." he said hesitantly. His voice came out feeble in the silence of the corridor. "How many children are here?"
Without slowing his steps, Aelrindel looked back at him over his shoulder. "So you noticed," he said with a slight chuckle. "To be honest, I don't know the exact number myself. There are quite a few. Why do you ask?"
"Nothing..." Auren murmured, lowering his gaze to the marble floor. "I was just wondering."
Aelrindel nodded understandingly at the boy's shy demeanor. "The children, the youth here... They were all saved by our Lady," he began to explain. "You have many peers. There are those older than you, and those younger as well."
As they approached the end of the corridor, a few servants coming toward them quickly stepped aside and gave Aelrindel a deep curtsy. However, they were not the ones that caught Auren's main attention. Right behind the servants, three knight-like figures appeared, wearing exceptionally elegant, dark green embroidered robes and carrying graceful but deadly-looking swords at their waists. They had no masks on their faces, but the discipline and danger in their eyes were sharp enough to rival even the knights of Luxaris. As they passed by Aelrindel, they too placed their hands over their hearts and bowed their heads respectfully.
Aelrindel acknowledged their greeting with only a slight nod of his head. Auren's eyes widened like saucers with curiosity. He wanted to examine these green-robed knights in every detail and ask who they were, but he pressed his lips together because he felt too shy.
Aelrindel had noticed the boy's looks full of astonishment. As he began descending the wide, spiral staircase toward the dining hall, he decided to personally answer the questions Auren did not dare to ask.
"We want to keep the children we rescue here," Aelrindel said, his voice echoing solidly in the stairwell. "Because we know that Luxaris will always be after them. We can't just leave them to that savage world outside."
Holding onto the staircase banister, Auren listened carefully to the old elf.
"But we don't force them into anything, child. They are completely free," Aelrindel continued. "Whoever wishes can leave here and forge their own path when the time comes, and whoever wishes can stay. And those who stay generally..." Aelrindel motioned with his head in the direction the green-robed knights who had just passed them had gone. "...either want to become knights here, or they want to be servants in the manor and contribute to the order."
Aelrindel rested his staff on a lower step and stopped, looking into the eyes of Auren who was coming from behind.
"My Lady certainly doesn't require them to do all this," the old elf said, with the deep respect he felt for Yuria evident in his voice. "As I said, everyone here is free. We merely look after them and provide shelter here until they reach the age of sixteen. If any of them wishes to get stronger, wield a sword, or learn magic... they get stronger. If anyone seeks knowledge, that knowledge is given to them."
As the old elf started walking again, words echoed in Auren's mind. You are free. He who wishes to grow stronger, grows stronger.
Where the stairs ended, the door of a massive hall came into view, from which the sounds of cutlery, the smell of warm bread, and the cheerful hum of children could be heard. Auren took a deep breath; for him, this door was opening not just to the dining hall, but to an entirely new life that he would choose for himself.