Years ago, the air in Leonira Voss's modest workshop hummed with the energy of discovery. The invention, glowing softly in his hands, seemed almost alive. Intricate gears turned with an elegance that spoke of genius, and its faint light painted the walls with a golden hue.
"Aspect," Leonira said, his voice brimming with quiet pride. "A gift to humanity—a bridge between mortals and the divine. With this, we'll finally understand the blessings bestowed by the gods. Imagine what we could achieve…"
A small crowd of engineers and inventors surrounded him, their murmurs of admiration filling the room like a hymn.
In the corner, Patrick Blue lingered, his eyes gleaming like a predator's. His smile was warm, his voice silken as he stepped forward. "Leonira, this is… extraordinary. Truly."
Leonira turned, his face lighting up. "Patrick! I didn't know you were interested in my work."
"Interested?" Patrick chuckled, clapping a hand on Leonira's shoulder. "How could I not be? What you've created will change the world."
Leonira smiled, pride swelling in his chest. He didn't notice the glint in Patrick's eye—the kind that didn't admire but coveted.
Later that night, the workshop was quiet, the only sound the faint ticking of the invention resting on the workbench.
Eddie was supposed to be asleep, but he was drawn by the strange tension in the house. From his bedroom window, he saw faint shadows moving through the workshop, and curiosity pulled him from bed.
Barefoot, he tiptoed through the darkened halls and pressed his face to the cracked glass of the workshop window.
Inside, his father stood, his hands trembling as Patrick Blue loomed over him, flanked by two burly men.
"Patrick, you can't do this," Leonira pleaded, his voice shaking. "This is my invention. You know that."
Patrick sighed, feigning regret. "And I'm going to make sure it gets the recognition it deserves. Look at you, Leonira. A genius, sure, but what else? No resources. No connections. Who would even believe you made this?"
"I'll tell them! I'll—"
Patrick snapped his fingers, and one of his men stepped forward, yanking the device from Leonira's grasp.
"No, please!" Leonira lunged, but the other man shoved him back. He stumbled, catching himself on the workbench.
Eddie's small hands pressed against the glass, his breath fogging it. His young mind struggled to process what he was seeing. His father—his brilliant, kind father—was being humiliated, robbed of the invention he'd spoken of with such pride.
"Stop…" Eddie whispered, his voice too faint for anyone to hear.
Patrick walked toward the door, the device now tucked under his arm. "You'll thank me one day, Leonira. When the world finally appreciates your genius—through me."
The door slammed shut, and the room was silent except for the sound of Leonira sinking to his knees, his breaths ragged.
Eddie didn't move. He stayed at the window, frozen. His chest tightened, but the weight of what had happened didn't fully hit him. Not yet.
The days that followed were unbearable. Leonira became a shell of himself, his workshop abandoned, his voice quiet. Eddie, too young to fully understand, felt the unease settle into his bones.
It wasn't until the headlines appeared—"Patrick Blue's Revolutionary Device Set to Change the World"—that it all became clear.
Eddie stared at the papers, the words blurring as anger began to bubble beneath his confusion. He saw his father's face when the article was read aloud in their small village, saw the shame that bent his shoulders. That's when the fire began to burn.
It took years for Eddie to understand the depth of the betrayal, but the memory of his father's humiliation, of Patrick's smug smile, never faded. It was a slow poison, shaping him with every passing day.
When he was finally old enough to act, he whispered the vow to himself in the dead of night.
"I'll make them pay. All of them."
_______________________________________________________
Eddie slumped to the ground, tears streaking his face, his voice hoarse with pain. "I worked my whole life for this moment. I climbed the ranks, clawed my way to power, and when the chance for revenge was finally in my grasp…" His hands trembled as he looked up at Anatolia. "I lost. To a kid."
His words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, silence consumed the space between them. Then he added, almost in a whisper, "No one will believe my story, but you will. You have to. Remember it, Anatolia Blue. Remember what your family did."
Anatolia's breath hitched. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, and her fists clenched so tightly that her nails bit into her palms. "I believe you," she said quietly, her voice steady but filled with emotion.
Eddie's eyes narrowed, disbelief etched into his features. "You believe me?"
"Yes," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I've always known what kind of man my father was. I knew it when he lied to my mother. I knew it when he promised me the stars but gave me shadows instead. He was cunning, ruthless, and, yes, despicable." She paused, her jaw tightening. "But he wasn't evil. It was like… like something was driving him—pulling him deeper into greed, into lies. I saw it in his eyes sometimes, that flicker of regret. But it was always too late."
"You expect me to feel sympathy for him?" Eddie spat, his voice dripping with venom.
"No," Anatolia said, her gaze steady. "I don't expect you to feel anything for him. You shouldn't."
Eddie scoffed, shaking his head. "And you? Do you even know who he really was? What he did? How much blood is on his hands?"
Anatolia's voice cracked as she answered, "No. I don't know anymore. I don't know what's a lie and what's the truth. My whole life, I've been told that the Blues are the architects of greatness, that our name stands for progress and innovation. But at what cost?" She looked away, her expression torn. "Maybe my entire life has been built on stolen foundations. Maybe I've been complicit without even knowing it."
Eddie stared at her, his anger wavering for just a moment as he saw the turmoil in her eyes. "And what will you do with that knowledge, Anatolia Blue?"
Her voice grew stronger, resolute. "I don't know yet. But I won't run from it. I won't pretend this didn't happen. Whatever my father's sins were, they don't define me. I'll find a way to make it right—no matter how long it takes."
Eddie stood, his face a mixture of bitterness and exhaustion. "You think you can make this right? That you can erase what's been done?"
"No," Anatolia said firmly. "But I can try. That's all I have left, Eddie. Trying."
For a moment, the two stood in silence, enemies bound by the weight of a shared past, both scarred by a man who had shaped their lives in vastly different ways.
Eddie turned to leave, his shoulders slumped. "Don't think this changes anything. Your name will always remind me of what I lost. Of what your father took from me."
Anatolia didn't reply, her eyes fixed on the horizon. Quietly, she whispered to herself, "And your name will remind me of what I need to become."