"If needed."
A heavy silence enveloped them, thicker than the humid air of the bustling city.
The sounds of the market—the distant chatter, the clinking of metal, the haggling voices, they all faded into the background, leaving a palpable stillness between the two.
Elyas felt the weight of Hollow's words settle in the pit of his stomach.
Elyas's expression shifted subtly. His eyes, which had been wide with curiosity and a hint of fear, now hardened with determination. His jaw tightened, and he swallowed hard, a mix of unease and resolve etched into his young features.
He realized that the man before him was not just a savior but a potential harbinger of violence, someone who wouldn't hesitate to take a life if the situation demanded it.
Despite the chilling implication, Elyas didn't back down. Instead, he met the man's gaze with a newfound intensity.
Hollow then asked:
"What were you doing in the black market? It's not a place for a boy."
Elyas took a deep breath, his mind flashing back to the series of events that had brought him here.
The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the bustling streets of Babylon as Elyas's family gathered for lunch. It was one of those rare days when his father, a counselor in the Great Babylon Tower, could spend time with his loved ones instead of being consumed by the affairs of the empire. The aroma of spices filled the air as they shared a meal, laughter and chatter mingling with the clinking of dishes.
The father appeared serene yet dignified, a figure of quiet authority. His long, dark pinkish hair cascaded in soft waves around his shoulders, lending an air of humble elegance to his demeanor. A neatly trimmed beard framed his face, adding to the aura of wisdom that seemed to emanate from him as a counselor. His eyes, gentle yet sharp, held the depth of knowledge acquired through years of scholarly pursuit, while his facial features spoke of both the tenderness of a loving father and the sagacity of a wise man.
After lunch, Elyas felt the weight of fatigue pressing down on him. He excused himself from the table, announcing his intention to take a short nap before the afternoon sun grew too oppressive. His mother nodded understandingly, her gentle smile a balm to his weary soul.
As he retreated to his room, his mother began clearing the table, humming softly to herself as she washed the dishes.
Meanwhile, the father moved to his private workroom, a sanctuary of solitude nestled among towering stacks of papers and books.
He had always been a diligent man, dedicated to his duties as a counselor, but today seemed different. There was a tension in the air, a sense of urgency that belied the tranquility of the afternoon.
As Elyas drifted off to sleep, he was unaware of the events unfolding in the next room. It wasn't until he was jolted awake by a strange commotion that he realized something was amiss. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he stumbled out of bed and made his way to the door, only to find it locked from the inside.
"Dad?" he called out, his voice tinged with concern. "Are you in there?"
There was no response, only silence echoing through the empty hallway. Elyas's heart pounded in his chest as he turned to his mother.
"Mom, is Dad in his room?" he asked, his voice still sleepy.
His mother's brow furrowed with confusion at the unexpected question. She could sense the urgency in her son's voice.
"I... I think so," she replied hesitantly, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "Why do you ask?"
Elyas didn't wait for her to finish. With a sense of foreboding tightening his chest, he hurried to the door of his father's private workroom, his mother following close behind.
With numb hands, Elyas fumbled with the duplicate key, his heart pounding in his ears. As the door swung open, revealing the scene within, his mother gasped in shock at the sight before her.
Elyas's father lay sprawled across his desk, his usually composed features twisted in pain.
Foam—thick and purple—oozed from his mouth, staining his lips and chin.
Elyas's breath caught in his throat as he rushed to his father's side, his hands shaking as he reached out to touch his cold, lifeless form.
At first, confusion clouded his mind, disbelief numbing his senses. It wasn't until his mother's horrified gasp pierced the air that realization struck him like a thunderbolt.
"Dad!" he cried out, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Wake up!"
As Elyas's mother beheld the devastating sight of her husband's lifeless form, a guttural cry of anguish tore from her throat.
Tears streamed down her cheeks unchecked, tracing pathways through the dust of grief that settled upon her face.
Her hands trembled as she reached out, as if hoping that her touch could somehow bring him back from the abyss. But the cold reality of loss gripped her heart, squeezing until she could scarcely draw breath.
In that moment, all she could do was surrender to the overwhelming tide of sorrow, her cries mingling with the echoes of shattered dreams in the silent room.
As Elyas's gaze drifted across his father's motionless form, he noticed something peculiar—a folded piece of paper clutched in his father's lifeless hand. With trembling fingers, he pried it free, unfolding it to reveal a series of strange symbols and cyphers.
***
"The cyphers were clues," added Elyas, eyes still aching from his father's memory, "After I had managed to decipher them, they led me to the black market, and that's how we met."
Hollow's reaction was immediate, his mind racing to connect the dots between the two seemingly unrelated incidents.
As Elyas recounted the details of his father's death—particularly the mention of the purple foam—Hollow's brow furrowed in deep concentration. It was no coincidence, he realized, that both men had succumbed to the same strange affliction.
Hollow's gaze bore into Elyas's. "There are forces at play," he said cryptically. "But rest assured, I will find answers.", he added, with a serious tone.
Perhaps that was the mission he had all along?
"I still don't understand why the Twin Suns' Order– the local authorities – refused to investigate further…" sighed Elyas, his voice filled with frustration and sorrow.
Hollow paused, turning back to face Elyas, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully.
"There are times when justice and truth are not the primary objectives."
Elyas looked up, his eyes filled with a mixture of confusion and anger.
"But my father was a counselor to the king. He served the realm faithfully. Why would they ignore his death?"
Hollow stepped closer, his expression softening slightly. "Sometimes, those in power have secrets they wish to keep buried. Your father might have known something that threatened those in power."
Elyas felt a chill run down his spine. The idea that his father's death was part of a larger conspiracy was terrifying.
"S- so, what do we do now?" he asked, determination creeping into his voice.
"The truth," Hollow said firmly,
" I shall find it."