The servants had to drag the heir's body into the manor for he refused to go. When he was finally inside, Darian went feral and attacked them, blowing them aside and releasing a tinnitus so high even the townspeople could hear it. He only stopped when he finally collapsed in exhaustion, trembling and crying on the floor.
Master Willdyer went towards him and bent down. He was pitiful of him, but he had to remain stoic. "This is what happens when you don't adhere to your duties. I'm sorry, Darian, but unless you start following the rules, this will happen all over again."
Darian was quiet on the ground, but then started to chuckle upon hearing that threat. His father narrowed his brows as the boy sat up, cracking a forlorn smile that meant nothing could save him anymore. "Why don't you just kill me? He was everything to me. I've lost him, and now I can't find a reason to live anymore."
The boy seized his father's hands and placed the palm in between his eyes, and brought his own hand to one of his ears. "Go on, blind me! Then I'll make myself deaf! At least Michael wouldn't have to suffer alone now."
"Darian!" Master Willdyer exclaimed in panic, retrieving his hand sharply and binding Darian's own to the boy's sides. Darian writhed around, but he relaxed quickly when his energy reached its limit again. The master sighed as he looked at his sorry son, and cursed himself for actually going with the plan in the first place.
"I'll give you two days to recover. By then, you should continue your classes as usual, and I expect some improvements since you would not have any distractions anymore." Master Willdyer snapped his fingers to call over two servants. "Keep an eye on him, and make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."
They heeded his words and brought Darian to his room. When night came, Darian did not sleep, instead he took the violin out of his cupboard and just stared at it, running his fingers along the strings, reminiscing the short but unforgettable times he shared with Michael again and again.
—
It's been two weeks since Michael's death, and Darian's performance was still not up to par as Sir Felluor had expected. In fact, he only became worse by moping in class, and blatantly ignoring Alina when she came to visit. The grandmaster was growing impatient as he stalked around Master Willdyer's quarters one afternoon.
Master Willdyer took the initiative to remind him, "No threats are working on Darian. He's at his lowest and has nothing to lose anymore. He even wanted to kill himself."
"That boy... he's really going to ruin our entire family!" Sir Felluor barked and slammed his fist on the wall, causing low vibrations. He then resumed his silent fuming, racking his brain on how to solve this issue.
"Your other son. Does he show any signs of a Talent yet?" The grandmaster asked, and Master Willdyer had prayed for the four-year-old to not be dragged into this, but he had no choice to reply, "No, Father."
Sir Felluor grunted. "Fine. Regardless, he'll take over Darian currently then. He's still young, so we have time to properly train him and make sure nothing like this happens again." He turned the doorknob and was about to leave, when he added, "Keep Darian down in the basement. Just in case this new one fails again."
As the senior slammed the door shut, Master Willdyer released a long breath and massaged his temples. He had been too lenient with Darian, as he knew from experience how stifling it was to succumb to the tight and rigid expectations of an heir. But now, this has backfired, and he swore he will not repeat the mistake with Careth, for he couldn't bear to see another son lose the will to live again.
—
It was a rainy day when Darian was ordered to pack up his things and wait at the foyer. This came across as a surprise to him, for he never thought he would be kicked out of the manor, despite all the misbehavings prior. His grip on the suitcase was weak as he twirled around, spotting the banisters he used to slide off of, the marble floors that clicked under his rampant footsteps, and the empty hallways that used to be filled with his childish laughter.
Master Willdyer approached the boy, who turned to look at him with lifeless eyes. "Where will I be going?" Darian asked.
"Somewhere near," he gestured for Darian to follow him, and entered the library. Darian went behind him, perplexed, and stopped when the master was in front of a bookshelf, picking a book.
Lightning flashed and this startled the boy, and the next second the floor under him trembled, a piece of marble flooring sliding aside to reveal a trapdoor. Master Willdyer pulled on the ring and ventured down the stairs, and Darian followed, now more confused than afraid.
They both stopped at the red door, and Master Willdyer pulled out a rusty key to unlock it. Once they entered the room, where the furniture still had blankets of dust upon them, the master drew open a curtain that had been concealing a window.
It was a pathetic window, as the other side showed nothing but a wall of mud. It's purpose was mainly to add as decoration to the lonesome shelter underground, but even Master Willdyer felt that this was too much.
He concentrated and pressed his palm against the glass, emitting a glow which encapsulated the window frames. When the blinding light subsided, Darian saw that it now did not display the same sad mud, but it displayed the front view of the manor, currently now being pitted against a rainstorm.
"You will be living down here from now on," the master announced, turning to a dazed Darian. "I thought this vision window would help you adjust better to life underground."
Darian snapped out of his daze and asked, "Why will I be living down here?"
Master Willdyer dusted his hands and took a seat on the rickety dining chair. "Because I see there's no point in forcing you to become the heir when you so desperately don't want to. So now, you'll be staying here as a replacement in case the new heir meets some... complications."
"N-New heir?" Darian was bewildered. "Since when was there a new heir?"
The master flicked his finger to switch the view, which now showed a brown-haired toddler learning the alphabets with toys. "He's four-years-old, and his name is Careth. We had him when we noticed you may not be fit to continue the lineage, since your academics then were extremely poor."
Darian took a step back. The toddler had a bright smile on his face, and he jumped in delight when his teacher praised him for getting the correct answer. Darian held his head as he processed this stunning revelation.
'He was born because of my failures,' he thought bitterly, and guilt began to crash down on him like boulders and stones. 'And now he has to go through everything, and it's all my fault.'
Seeing that his son had trouble gauging the situation, Master Willdyer stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulders. "I know this is difficult to take in, so take your time. You won't have duties to adhere to anymore, and you're free to do whatever you want here. But know that if Careth—for some unfortunate reason—is still unfit, you will have to take over."
"What if he turns out just like me? With no prowess in academics at all?" Darian inquired.
Master Willdyer pressed his lips. "We will make sure he gets educated well. You only need to worry if he has a Talent or not."
"Why?"
"Because if he doesn't show any signs of a Talent by fifteen, he will be killed regardless. And that's when you have to take over," the master finally revealed, although he was not proud of doing so.
Darian hesitated for a second, then when he realized, he asked again. "What? Why? Are you saying I'm alive just because I'm Blessed?"
His father nodded. "An heir that has a Talent will not be killed. This is the Tradition passed down from one generation to another."
He stood up and went to the door, turning around to give Darian a last goodbye. "The maids will be down here for a cleanup later. I hope you enjoy a better life down here, son."
As the creaking of the door came to a stop, Darian watched his younger brother flip through pages of a thick storybook, his large auburn eyes gleaming as an innocent smile formed on his small lips.
'I will get you out of here, Careth.' Darian swore on his life. 'I promise.'