It had been almost seven years since Matthew Saint helped Princess Ivara Levina escape the iron grip of King Salis. After making sure she vanished from the world completely, Matthew took Prince Azazul under his protection, just as Ivara commanded.
On his front porch, eating grapes and other exotic fruits, sat a man with short light-brown hair and two beautiful ruby-colored eyes. Matthew looked like a man in his mid-twenties, despite being in his early thirties.
He watched two children playing with a brown leather ball in the yard.
The two children were a boy and a girl.
The boy, age six, had heterochromic eyes: one elegant gold, the other a gleaming silver-grey. His short jet-black hair swept across his forehead in soft waves.
The girl, age seven, had long auburn hair and radiant ruby eyes.
Matthew sighed, stood, and called out:
"Azazul! Meira! You can take the leftover fruit! And I want you in bed early tonight. Tomorrow's going to be a long day of training."
Meira responded first while Azazul went to fetch the ball.
"Okay, Father! … Azazul! Kick the ball, will you?"
Azazul kicked it with all his strength—and sent it flying straight out of the yard.
Both children chased after it.
Matthew couldn't help but laugh softly to himself.
Entering the house through the porch door, he saw his wife preparing dinner. Her auburn hair was tied into a smooth ponytail resting on her right shoulder. When she noticed the smile on his face, she raised an eyebrow.
"And what has you smiling so stupidly?"
Matthew frowned.
"Does my smile look stupid?"
"You know that's not what I meant."
He scratched the back of his head, suddenly awkward.
"Well… do you remember when Azazul first came here? Meira didn't really like him, you know?"
His wife, Emma, let out a small snort.
"Oh, I remember. Hard to believe that despite all that, he's her everything now."
Matthew blinked.
"Wait—what? I thought I was her everything. Does she really like him that much?"
"Pretty much. You know that small chain with the cross he wears on his right wrist? The one that helps him control his eye?"
Matthew squinted, trying to figure out why she brought it up.
"Yeah… what about it?"
"Well, she made one too. To match with him. You never noticed? What a great parent you are."
"Of course I didn't—now I know! That boy stole my daughter from me."
As he finished his sentence, a familiar scream echoed from outside. It was faint, panicked.
"Mom!! Mo—om!!"
Emma, who hadn't heard it clearly, shrugged.
"Oh, stop being dramatic."
Matthew turned sharply toward the porch, eyes narrowing as he focused on the distant cries.
"That's Meira," he said, voice tight.
Both parents rushed outside.
Meira stood there, pale as a ghost, trembling violently.
"Where is Azazul?" Matthew demanded.
The girl stuttered, words tumbling out between terrified breaths.
"We—we were chasing the ball when a… a carriage suddenly appeared and almost hit me but Azazul pushed me out of the way—then the carriage ran over his leg and he—he—"
Before she could finish, Azazul appeared from the path they came from.
His right pant leg was soaked in blood.
Meira spun around, eyes wide.
"Azazul… your leg?"
Just moments ago, his leg had been broken—twisted, crushed. Now… it was perfect. Better than perfect.
Azazul scratched his cheek awkwardly.
"Oh, that? Well… it's my first time breaking a leg, so I guess it's my first time healing one out of thin air. But I'm alright, you know…"
That was a lie.
Even healed, the pain lingered.
The fear lingered even more.
Seeing his own bone twisted nearly made him pass out.
Matthew exchanged a long glance with Emma.
"Well… you two look fine. Azazul, go clean yourself up."
Emma, Azazul, and Meira headed back inside. Matthew lingered on the porch, staring at the bowl of exotic fruits.
A shadow crossed his expression.
So the time has come…
So much sooner than I hoped…
He gripped the edge of the table, deep worry settling into his bones.