Ethan gasped sharply, his chest heaving as his consciousness slammed back into him. The first thing he noticed was the sterile scent of the room, and then the soft, rhythmic beeping of a machine beside him. His vision blurred, then cleared, then blurred again as he fought to orient himself. His mind raced.
Was it a dream?
He blinked, fragments of his last moments flickering in and out of his memory. The terror, the pain... No. That was real. Please let it not be. He tried to move, but his body felt heavy, as if the weight of everything that had happened still held him down.
Suddenly, the feeling in his hand returned—Lyla's warm, tight grip, her small fingers clenching onto his palm like a lifeline. His head turned slowly, the effort feeling monumental, and he saw her. She had been asleep, head resting on the edge of his bed, but now, as he stirred, her eyes fluttered open, the exhaustion written across her face quickly giving way to relief. Her lips quivered, and her eyes filled with tears that shimmered in the soft hospital light.
"Ethan…" she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion.
Ethan opened his mouth to say something, anything, but the words didn't come. His throat was dry, and his body still felt sluggish. Before he could respond, Lyla's expression shifted into a wide, tearful smile, and she bolted from the room.
"I'll get the doctor!"
He watched her go, the sound of her hurried footsteps echoing faintly in the hallway. His gaze drifted to the right, catching sight of the large, floor-to-ceiling window. Outside, the city sprawled out before him, gleaming under the midday sun. Towers of glass and steel reflected the light, casting long shadows over the streets below. For a moment, he forgot the weight in his chest, the heaviness in his limbs, and just stared.
"What a view," he muttered under his breath, the irony cutting through the haze.
But then the memories began to creep back. What had happened? The fight... the darkness... Xeridian. His breath quickened as flashes of violence filled his mind.
Tears slipped down the sides of Ethan's face, pooling at his ears, his expression locked in a hollow emptiness. He whispered, almost numb, "I couldn't... I couldn't do anything. I was weak... insignificant." His chest tightened as the shame gnawed at him. "Am I truly unworthy of death?"
A tremor ran through him as he clenched his fists. I have to become stronger, he thought, a flicker of resolve sparking through his despair. To protect my family... to seek vengeance... I must reach for the top.
"And how exactly are you going to do that?" a voice cut through his thoughts.
Ethan shot upright in bed, eyes darting around the room. No one was there. His heart pounded in his chest, confusion washing over him. That voice... it came from inside me, he realized. But before he could dwell on it, the door swung open with a burst of energy.
Lyla and Liam rushed in, followed by a young doctor. Lyla practically tackled Ethan, throwing her arms around him and squeezing tight. Her tears soaked through his gown as she sobbed into his chest, her voice trembling, "We thought we lost you, big bro. Don't ever do that again!"
Ethan blinked, still dazed. He hadn't even noticed how tightly she was holding him until her sobs grew softer. He patted her back awkwardly, not yet able to process everything. He glanced up and saw Liam standing a few feet away, leaning against the wall, arms crossed in an attempt to look indifferent. But the faint relief in his eyes gave him away.
Ethan managed a weak smile, but then his attention turned to the doctor. The man looked too young to be one, barely older than Ethan himself. He stared at him, puzzled by the doctor's comforting yet strangely sorrowful eyes. For a second, Ethan couldn't place it, but then it hit him—something about the doctor's face, his presence, reminded him of Zephyrine.
Before he could speak, the doctor's quiet voice cut through the silence. "I'm her brother."
Ethan's breath caught. His eyes met the doctor's once more, and there was a deep sadness in his expression that matched Ethan's own. His once bowed head now stared directly back, and in that moment, the weight of everything returned, heavier than ever.
"How is she?" Ethan's voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, as if he feared the answer.
The young doctor, his face etched with a mixture of empathy and hesitation, sighed deeply. "She's alive, but... things are complicated. Her second awakening… it's been classified as unstable."
"Unstable?" Ethan's heart sank. The word carried a weight he could hardly bear.
"They've confined her to a high-security facility in the city," the doctor explained, avoiding Ethan's gaze. "No visitors allowed. The seven guilds... they're preparing to give their verdict."
Ethan's pulse quickened. "Verdict? For what?"
The doctor's eyes darkened. "Whether she lives or... they may decide to exterminate her."
"Exterminate?" The word echoed in Ethan's mind like a death knell. "Why?"
"It depends on how much her Aether grows. If it spirals out of control, she could become a danger—a threat no one can contain."
Ethan stared at his trembling hands, his mind flashing back to Zephyrine's face—the tears in her eyes as she kept the portal open, the way she healed him, sacrificing her safety for theirs. "She saved me... saved us. And now they're calling her a threat?"
The injustice of it all boiled inside him. She'd risked everything, and this was her reward? Alone, locked away, waiting for others to decide her fate as if she was nothing more than a problem to be solved.
"I won't let that happen," Ethan muttered, his jaw tightening.
"We're going to do something about it," came a deep voice from the entrance of the room. Alaric Thorn stood there, his presence commanding yet different this time. Ethan's reaction shifted. No longer paralyzed by awe or fear, he could feel something else—a sense of justice, a heroic aura radiating from Alaric Thorn. Memories of his arrival, his intervention when all seemed lost, flooded back.
"How is he?" Alaric asked, stepping closer.
The young doctor nodded, still checking Ethan's vitals. "Stable from what I can see. All his systems are functioning well. A minor blunt force to the head—that's likely from the fall when he lost consciousness. His Aetheral system, however, has been active for the past seven weeks. You also lost a considerable amount of blood, despite—"
"Wait," Ethan interrupted, his voice filled with confusion. "My Aetheral system has been what?"
"It's been awakened," the doctor confirmed. "It happened sometime around the second week you were out."
Liam's eyes widened, fixed on his brother in a mix of surprise and admiration. His expression showed awe, even though he tried to remain composed.
Alaric Thorn folded his arms, his gaze piercing. "It'll take time before we can identify the exact genes fueling your Aether. But make no mistake, Ethan—you're still weak."
Alaric Thorn's voice cut deep, each word laden with the weight of cold, unflinching truth. "Yes, feel the shame and the burden that comes with your weakness," he said, his tone sharp and unforgiving. "If you were stronger, you would've protected them. But no—you allowed them to be slain by dogs, to fall to swords unworthy of them."
Ethan felt his chest tighten, his fingers curling into fists as the sting of those words settled. Every failure, every life lost, echoed through his mind like a relentless drumbeat.
"Let it fuel you," Alaric continued, his gaze now locked on Ethan's. "Let it burn in you just as it burns in me. I should've been there earlier. And you, Ethan—you should've been stronger. They all should've been stronger."
Alaric's words left a heaviness in the room as he turned toward the exit, his presence still looming. "Zephyrine is safe," he added, his voice now slightly softer but still edged. "I'm making sure of that. Whatever verdict the Guilds give, Zephyrine is protected to an extent by the constitutional rights of the Awakened, as long as her sanity remains intact. I'm doing everything I can."
Without another glance, Alaric exited the room, leaving a charged silence behind him. The doctor, clearly unsettled, cast a worried glance at Ethan before speaking. "You need to rest, Ethan," he advised quietly, before following Alaric out.
The room fell into a heavy quiet, the weight of the conversation hanging in the air. Ethan's thoughts spiraled as he sat there, the sting of his own inadequacy mirrored in the awkward silence between him and his siblings.
Ethan sat in the heavy silence, his mind reeling, until Liam's voice broke through, raw and trembling. "You're going to get stronger," Liam said, his gaze fixed on the floor, tears brimming in his eyes. "You're not leaving us like Mum and Dad. You're not going to die on us, Ethan."
The weight of his words hung between them, thicker than the silence that had filled the room moments before. Lyla, still clinging to Ethan's side, looked up at him with wide, tear-filled eyes, waiting for a promise.
Ethan smiled softly, closing his eyes for a moment as if finding strength within. When he opened them, his voice was steady. "I won't leave you," he said, his voice quiet but firm. "I'm going to get stronger. For you both. I swear it."
The silence that followed felt different—no longer one of sorrow, but of quiet resolve, a flicker of hope against the crushing weight of their reality.