Lustos was burning up, his small body wracked with fever as he lay on the bed, his skin flushed a deep red. Every movement seemed to cause him pain, his ribs pressing heavily against his insides, and his limbs tinged with a bluish hue.
Frantic servants scurried around, fetching cold water and clean towels in a desperate attempt to alleviate the child's suffering. The examining doctor shook his head grimly.
"I'll brew a decoction of medicinal herbs," he said, his voice heavy with concern. "Lowering the temperature may provide temporary relief, but it won't address the root issue. Moreover, it could lead to additional complications given the underlying ailment. Due to the energy imbalance, the young master is already showing signs of bone atrophy."
The Head enveloped his weeping wife in his embrace, his gaze drifting aimlessly over his son's tear-stained face.
As a scion of the Void Clan, he had never been inclined towards love. His entire existence was dedicated to serving his family and adhering strictly to the dictates of his position. From childhood, as the Head of the Despair Clan, he had been instilled with a sense of duty and responsibility. Duty defined him, shaping him into the man he had become. The concept of love, something ineffable and foreign, had gradually become repugnant to him. Looking upon his newborn children, he felt only a sense of hopelessness. He could never fully embrace his family, for his purpose consumed him entirely. Even after decades of marriage to a direct descendant of the Despair Clan, he regarded his wife, the matriarch of their Great Family, as a colleague in misfortune than a life partner. Their relationship had grown distant, the warmth and affection they once shared replaced by the cold dictates of their duty. Their encounters were fleeting, their nights spent in silence beneath the watchful eyes of the elders.
In his role as the Head of the Clan of Despair, he had long forgotten that beyond duty and servitude, there existed the capacity for affection. All that he had experienced before— the cold teachings of the elders, the rare words of solace from his wife in the days when they were still emotionally connected—now seemed distant and faded.
He was more than just a Head; he was a man, capable of experiencing joy, if only fleetingly. Three moments stood out in his memory: the first when he realized that he could bring honor and respect to his family by assuming leadership of the somber and sparsely populated clan; the second when he met the young Iris, who, in their first encounter, took his hand and dubbed him her groom; and the third, when Lustos was born.
His life, dedicated to serving others for the sake of their happiness, had long obscured the realization that he, too, was deserving of his own happiness. He was worthy of the warmth that his loved ones could offer, a truth that had been lost in the ceaseless pursuit of duty.
Yet, despite his inner turmoil, the stain of his unworthy deeds lingered like a dark shadow, staining his hands with the mark of his transgressions. The days when men were regarded as mere pawns in a grand design were not so distant that he could not recognize the tugging of his conscience—the gnawing sense of guilt that ate away at his heart.
Could it be that his own heinous actions had brought about his son's suffering? Was Lustos paying the price for his father's sins?
A profound sense of loss enveloped him as he gazed at the small bundle before him, words of solace and reassurance long buried beneath the weight of his responsibilities. His feelings towards his son were far from love, and they certainly did not resemble the dutiful affection that was expected of him. According to the teachings of the Great Families, emotions such as love were deemed unnecessary, even detrimental, to their cause. By all accounts, he should have remained indifferent to his son's plight, given the circumstances. After all, the Energy Imbalance threatened to render the child useless—a mere liability in the grand scheme of things. Perhaps it would be easier to declare his son dead prematurely, sparing himself the burden of a future decision regarding his fate. Clinging to a broken hope seemed futile; he could not see a way out of the pit he had willingly descended into.
And yet, the light that Lustos brought into his life was nothing short of salvation for his weary soul. His faith and happiness now resided in this tiny being, and the thought of his son's suffering tore at his very core.
The sobbing woman cradled in his arms served as evidence of his gradual transformation. The icy detachment that characterized their marital relationship, devoid of any hint of warmth or affection, was now thawing, infused with a glimmer of hope that offered a chance to reassess their bond.
The birth of child—a seemingly miraculous event, believed to be the fulfillment of a prophecy—had managed to breach the walls the Head had erected around his heart. And now, he was determined to ensure that this newfound light would never fade.
"Even if it means dismantling the Great Families, my child will live,"
Such a promise was made to himself by the Head of the Clan of Despair, Asher, a descendant of a Great Family, who should never experience love.