Every failure is a step forward—unless you're walking in circles.
Even though I wished him to stop, Simon showed me another memory.
Rolo clenched his gauze-bound hands into fists. He merely sat quietly in the uncomfortable bed of the ward, watching the landscape beyond the window.
Rolo had always lived in the shadows, and for a long time had known nothing but darkness. He didn't mind it though, the dirt hid him perfectly from his enemies. But after that fateful night, everything changed.
He saw things that others did not. He realized that if he really strained his eyes, he could see the brilliance in a person. Each person was like a tiny star, radiating a kind of intangible light. He remembered that the old man's light was warm and welcoming, though dimmer as he grew older—in any case, the boy loved that warm glow that always surrounded the old man.
And then suddenly that light went out and he found himself in the clutches of darkness again. This darkness was metallic, alien and terrifying—at first he was desperate to get his old life back, and he did his best to do so.
Rolo remembered his first encounter with the King of Cats. He remembered sitting in a bright little office. He sat across from Leo with the knowledge of his influence, his power among the cats, and the idea of certain victory. He folded his hands and rested his chin on them. A confident little smile sat on his lips, his vibrant eyes scanning Rolo.
Rolo sat opposite the most influential of cats, under the weight of his inquisitive gaze, yet he wasn't frightened or excited. Rolo remained completely indifferent.
Then Leo asked him if he would like to be part of his famiglia. He was sure of himself, and Rolo watched with amusement the surprise and bewilderment on the other's face when he heard those two words. Leo asked back, probably thinking he had heard wrong. Rolo repeated calmly:
"No, thanks."
Leo was embarrassed but offered his number to him. Rolo nodded and walked out of the office. He didn't thank him for the opportunity. Leo was inescapable among cats and surrounded by something of a defining atmosphere, yet this air of remarkable influence on others left Rolo indifferent. He would not easily submit to people stronger than him, so even the idea of submitting to someone weaker than him was repulsive.
Then Rolo recalled the first moment he met the only person who could command him. He remembered the warmth drawing his eyes to the window—then he saw a monster behind the counter. He was homely and graceful. Then their eyes met.
Rolo's heart skipped a beat and he immediately retreated into the cover of the wall. He had no idea at the time what it was about that moment that made him immediately recoil, but an uneasy feeling was undoubtedly there.
In a moment, the monster was beside him, unnoticed, and for a moment Rolo thought it was all over. He looked up at the stranger, and then he saw it. He had long since realized that he was seeing things that an ordinary monster shouldn't—he had the eyes of a necromancer.
That night, he encountered a monster who glowed so brightly it made his eyes hurt, yet he couldn't take his eyes off him. He was simply captivated by the noble, powerful and kind glow that the other gave off.
Yes, kind. He doesn't show it, but he cares about others—no, he doesn't let anyone get too close, but he certainly cares about his friends. Rolo wondered if this was because he feared that this light would consume them.
Rolo had already learned that the stronger someone is, the brighter they shine—which is why he could tell at a glance who he could mess with and who he couldn't. Then, in that moment, he was terrified, because he knew he wouldn't have even a slim chance of winning, let alone escaping.
This feeling was truly confirmed when Shay fought the goblin. It was the first time Rolo had ever seen a real goblin—not a very pleasant first experience. He was surprised that Shay survived the first time the goblin threw him against a wall. The second time it happened, Rolo was sure he was dead. Then a moment later the goblin fell to the ground. Rolo watched in horror the beast, who seemed invincible and immortal to him.
Rolo himself was a moth, floating aimlessly in the darkness at first, longing for something he could never quite articulate. He was searching, but he didn't even know what he wanted to find. But when he found it, knowing full well that he would surely be burned in the future, he stayed. He simply enjoyed watching that wild glow.
He got used to the fact that he no longer had to fear the darkness, used to the security of the other. Perhaps it was this habit that made it unbearable to know that the darkness could take him again, that the light could disappear from his life again.
He thought a lot—which, in his case, was no good if it was out of despair. He had a bad habit of biting his lower lip. The bitter taste of his own blood lingered on his tongue.
The door opened and a very tired and slightly frustrated Alice entered. Rolo raised his eyes unnervingly slowly to the boy, who plopped down on the chair beside the bed.
"What have you done with his brother?" asked Rolo.
Frankly, he didn't expect Alice to return to him anytime soon. When they entered the room, the other hunter had only one question for him and only one obvious answer. "Did they take him?"
Rolo merely nodded—he felt no sound would come out of his throat. The older hunter then stormed off, and Rolo knew he would immediately rush to his brother's rescue.
"I knocked him out," Alice sighed simply, "I had no other way to stop him."
"Hm," commented Rolo.
He thought this stubbornness might run in the family...
"Will you tell me what happened?" the hunter asked quietly.
"Hm," the kid hummed again.
They were silent for a while. The seer quietly sipped a coffee from a vending machine, which Rolo was convinced had nothing to do with real coffee, and took an aspirin. Now that Rolo had a closer look, his face was terribly tired, and dark circles were under his eyes—he must have taken a lot of energy to keep the crazy hunter's temper in check. Among other things, he concluded that the hunter was completely insane and suffering from some kind of disgusting sibling complex.
Although Rolo's sense of smell wasn't as refined as a werewolf's, he smelled it. When he gave his answer to the hunter, he could smell the unconcealed and unbridled bloodlust that the other felt. He knew full well that if freeing his brother wasn't a top priority in his eyes, the madman would surely slaughter him on the first instinct for letting this happen and still living.
"He was protecting us," Rolo suddenly said, "When all was lost, even then, to the very end."
Alice looked at him thoughtfully, then smiled softly. "It wasn't your fault."
Rolo clenched his jaw with such force that his teeth gritted loudly.
"You know nothing!" he growled, "I could say I should have been stronger and this wouldn't have happened, but... the truth is, it wouldn't have made any difference at all!"
He shook with rage as he laughed and continued in hysterics. "I think that we shouldn't have been there at all!"
That night he clearly felt the monster in Shaytan awaken from its usual slumber. He thought that everyone could feel it. However, Rolo was the only one who could also see it. He was the only one who knew that Shay could have won. He could have killed all the hunters if he chose to. But he didn't. Why? Because they were there. He surrendered, knowing he couldn't destroy the hunters and protect his friends at the same time.
"You think so?" the seer raised an eyebrow.
Rolo nodded shakily. "That's all I think."
"I think you're wrong," Alice stated, and Rolo looked at him in disbelief.
He opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn't say anything—the other's serious face made it impossible to argue with him.
"You know, Shay has always been like that," he mused, "Always bickering and acting like he doesn't care at all—I must say, they're very similar with his brother in this aspect. Anyway, I know that there is nothing more important to him than his friends and his brother. He was simply trying with all his might to protect the place to which he would return. That's why he didn't run away—what would have been the point of losing his home?"
Rolo stared at the hunter.
"He knew about it, didn't he?" continued Alice, "Shay is an informant, so he must have known."
The kid nodded slowly. The seer sent him a satisfied smile.
"Tell me," Rolo began quietly, and the hunter immediately stopped smiling, "where did they take him? Will he be locked up in the Mirrorworld too?
Alice shook her head. "They will play with him first."
"Play?" the kid asked.
The seer hesitated, then finally sighed deeply.
"Some hunters... develop cruel tendencies over the years," he began quietly, "There's a place few people talk about called Acheron."
"What..." Rolo began, but his voice trailed off. "What is that place?"
"It is a special prison for the most dangerous and hated monsters. Whoever gets in, they say, won't last more than a month," he looked up at the kid. "The prisoners fight each other in tournaments."
Rolo couldn't speak, he just stared at the hunter.
"And how do you get out of there?" he asked when he finally found his voice.
"You can't—no one has ever done it before. That's why I'm sure they'll take him there."
The kid's hand shook, but Alice expected worse.
The sterile hospital room was quiet except for the rapid beeping of the heart monitor. Rolo's hand trembled as he gripped the edge of the bed, trying to steady himself. His face was pale, a stark contrast to the bruises and cuts that still marred his skin.
"Can you leave me alone?" he whispered, "I need to rest."
His eyes were glazed over, staring at a point on the wall as if seeking solace in its neutrality. The seer nodded and slowly stepped out the door, but before he closed it completely, he heard the muffled sobs of the other inside.
Alice hesitated, his hand hovering over the door handle. The sobs were faint but unmistakable—raw, guttural sounds of anguish that cut through the sterile silence like a knife. The pain in those sobs was palpable, each one a reminder of the suffering Rolo had endured and the crushing weight of what he now faced.
Inside the room, Rolo's face was buried in his hands, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably. The tears flowed freely, staining his cheeks. His breaths came in ragged, uneven gasps. Each sob seemed to rip through him, an agonizing acknowledgment of the reality that had so ruthlessly shattered his world.
"Rolo."
The whisper was almost imperceptible, a cold breath against his ear that jolted Rolo from his sorrow. He looked up abruptly, his eyes wide with a mix of hurt and confusion.
The room seemed to grow colder, the very air tinged with an ethereal chill. Simon's ghostly presence was unmistakable, a spectral figure emerging from the shadows, his form barely distinguishable from the dim light that bathed the room.
"Sleep," Simon's voice was a haunting murmur, echoing with an otherworldly calm. "Your mind is a mess."
Before Rolo could react or voice any protest, Simon's cold touch settled gently on his hair. The sensation was like a caress from a forgotten winter, an icy brush that sent shivers through Rolo's already trembling frame.
The ghost's fingers were pale, and their touch was as cold as death itself. It felt almost like a freezing gust of wind had swept through him, but there was a strange comfort in it, a respite from the overwhelming heat of his tears.
Simon's touch moved slowly, tenderly, as though he was handling something fragile and precious. The coldness seeped through Rolo's scalp and radiated downward, numbing the raw edges of his anguish. It was as if the spectral presence was trying to draw out the agony, layer by layer, with its chilling embrace.
Rolo's breath hitched as the icy fingers threaded through his hair, the cold so intense it felt like it was reaching into his very soul. Despite the shock of the frigid touch, a strange sense of calm began to spread through him. His sobs grew quieter, the desperate cries now reduced to shivering breaths. Simon's presence was both unsettling and soothing, a paradox that left Rolo feeling disoriented but oddly comforted.
As Simon continued to soothe him with his ghostly touch, Rolo's eyelids grew heavy. His body, still trembling, gradually relaxed, the tension melting away as exhaustion overtook him.
The room fell into an almost eerie silence, punctuated only by the soft, rhythmic sound of Rolo's breathing as he drifted into slumber. Simon's spectral form lingered near the bed, his presence a watchful guardian in the stillness.
Alice quietly closed the door.
Simon's mind let go of mine, but even moments later I didn't open my eyes.