Gray sat alone in the dimly lit room, the weight of solitude pressing heavily on his shoulders. He had returned to the inn after parting ways with Rex, securing a small, modest room where he could be alone with his thoughts. The room was silent, save for the faint crackle of the fire in the corner.
In his hand, he held a small stone, its surface etched with an ancient rune. The glow from the rune bathed his face in a soft, ethereal light, casting flickering shadows across the room. With a firm press of his fingers, he cracked the stone, watching as it crumbled to dust. A brilliant white light flared from his hand, and when it subsided, a black, circular tattoo was etched into his right wrist.
The tattoo pulsed faintly, almost imperceptibly, beneath his skin. Gray's expression remained stoic as he traced the mark with his fingertips. The old woman's words echoed in his mind:
'To use it you need focus on your rune and channel your will'.
He reached for the sword beside him, gripping the hilt with a calm, steady hand. But as he attempted to activate the rune, a searing pain shot through his wrist.
The pain was immediate and intense, like molten iron searing his flesh. Gray's eyes narrowed, but his expression didn't waver. Pain was nothing new to him—it was something he had known since the moment he was born, a constant companion in his life. But this pain was different, sharper, more insistent, as if the rune itself was fighting against his will.
He clenched his teeth, refusing to give in. Even though his mind was strong enough to endure the pain, his weak, skinny body was not. The agony stirred up long-dormant memories within him. He struggled to control himself and focus on the rune, but the more he concentrated, the more his mind began to wander, slipping through his grasp like sand through his fingers. Memories that weren't his own flooded his thoughts, vivid and disorienting. He was pulled into a scene from the past, a memory buried deep within him.
The memory that flooded Gray's mind was as vivid as the day it had happened. He was ten years old, sitting on the deck of a small sailing boat that drifted lazily across the lake owned by the Ravenwood family. The gentle sway of the boat and the cool breeze brushing against his face should have been soothing, but even as a child, Gray had felt an inexplicable heaviness in his heart.
His father, Nathaniel Ravenwood, stood at the helm, his golden eyes reflecting the sunlight as they surveyed the tranquil waters. His mother, Lilith, sat gracefully on a bench, her gaze distant, as though her thoughts were miles away. And beside him was his sister, her arm hooked around his shoulder, her smile as warm as the sun above.
"Don't be disappointed, Gray," his father said, his voice smooth and reassuring. "So, what if you can't use mana? You don't need mana to survive. There are many people out there who are crippled and can't even walk. Do they give up on living? No, they don't. So, don't give up either, okay?"
His mother, looking off into the distance, added, "You don't have to worry about anything. No one will look down upon you. After all, the blood of the Ravenwood and Nightshade families flows in your veins."
The warmth in his father and mother voice brought a rare wave of happiness to Gray's heart, a momentary flicker of hope. His father's words, so full of care, made Gray believe that perhaps everything would be alright.
"Yeah, Father is right," his sister chimed in, her voice light and comforting. She tightened her arm around him, pulling him closer into a gentle hug. "You're strong, Gray. Stronger than you know."
Gray lowered his head, burying his face into his sister's shoulder, her gentle pats on his head bringing him a fleeting sense of comfort. His sister, the one person who had always been kind to him, looked up and pointed at a golden fish swimming near the boat. "Look, Gray! That fish has the same eye color as us."
Gray lifted his head and tried to focus on the fish, his sister's enthusiasm contagious. He leaned forward slightly, trying to get a better view.
"Gray, be careful. Don't go too close to the edge," his mother warned, her tone firm but caring.
But as if on cue, Gray's foot slipped on the wet deck, and in an instant, he was falling. The world spun around him as he plummeted into the cold, dark water. The icy shock of the lake hit him like a wall, knocking the breath out of his lungs. Panic surged through him as he flailed helplessly, the water swallowing him whole.
"Father!" Gray screamed, his voice choking on the words as he desperately fought to stay afloat.
"H-Help... h-help me!"
"...!?"
But when he looked up, his heart seized in terror. His family was just... watching.
Blub-blub
the sound of water gurgling around him drowned out his pleas. His father, the man he had looked up to with such reverence, stood on the deck of the boat, his expression unreadable.. His mother's distant gaze bore no sign of concern, not even the slightest movement to save him. And his sister, who had just moments ago held him so close, was frozen in place, her smile gone, replaced by an unsettling stillness.
"Wh-Wh-Why?" Gray sputtered, his voice breaking as water surged into his mouth, filling his lungs. "W-Why aren't... y-you helping me?" he choked out, the desperate question slipping from his lips as he struggled
His arms flailed, his legs kicked, but it was no use. The more he struggled, the more the water dragged him down, its icy fingers wrapping around him, pulling him deeper into the abyss. The cold seeped into his bones, numbing his limbs and stealing the last of his strength.
His vision blurred as the water stung his eyes, but even through the haze, he could still see them—his family, standing there, unmoved, uncaring. His father's golden eyes, once so full of life, now looked down at him with an emotion Gray couldn't comprehend. Was it indifference? Disdain? He couldn't tell. But whatever it was, it pierced through him more sharply than the cold ever could.
"Father...?" Gray's voice was a mere whisper now, swallowed by the water that surrounded him. His limbs grew heavier, his body beginning to sink. The weight of the water pressed down on him, crushing his chest, squeezing the air from his lungs. Every breath was a struggle, every heartbeat a painful thud in his ears.
He looked up one last time, his eyes wide with terror and confusion. But they were still there, still watching, still unmoving. And that's when the realization hit him, a truth more terrifying than the thought of drowning.
They weren't going to save him.
They were letting him drown.
Gray's struggles slowed as a chilling thought settled in his mind.
'Isn't it better if I just die'.
'Maybe... maybe that's what they want'.
The fight drained out of him as the cold water wrapped around him like a shroud, pulling him into the depths. His hands stopped flailing; his legs stopped kicking.
As he sank deeper, his eyes remained open, fixed on the blurred figures of his family. The water grew darker, the light above him fading away, but his gaze never wavered, locked on the people who had just watched as he was swallowed by the darkness.
His lungs screamed for air, but Gray no longer cared. The water closed over him, and he let it take him. His body went limp, his eyes fluttering shut as the cold numbed him to the core.
The last thing he remembered was the crushing silence of the deep, a silence that mirrored the cold indifference of his family.
But as if there is always light in the dark, a glimmer of hope no matter how desperate the situation, Gray heard a voice. It was faint, barely more than a whisper, yet it reached him through the crushing depths. The voice was so soft, so low, that he could barely discern who it was or what it was saying.
"Young master..."
And then everything went silent.