I sat in the dimly lit room, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on me, but sleep refused to come. My mind wandered-back to a time when warmth still existed in my world.
The scent of fresh bread filled the air, mingling with the gentle breeze that rolled through the open windows. Sunlight streamed in, casting golden hues over the small but cozy home.
I giggled as I sat cross-legged on the wooden floor, watching my mother, Shayla, kneel beside me, rolling a small ball of dough between her hands.
"Like this, sweetheart," she said, her voice light and full of warmth. She guided my tiny hands, pressing my fingers into the dough.
I pouted. "Mine doesn't look like yours."
Shayla chuckled, ruffling my blonde hair. "That's because I've had more practice. But yours is perfect because you made it."
My pout turned into a grin. "Perfect?"
"Perfect," she repeated, booping my nose with flour.
I sneezed, then burst into laughter, my little body shaking as my mother joined in, our laughter filling the house like a melody.
She pulled me into her lap, wrapping her arms around me. "No matter what happens, Liam, I'll always be with you, okay?"
I didn't understand why she sounded so serious, so sad. I only snuggled closer, feeling safe. "Promise?"
Her lips pressed against my forehead.
"Promise."
The memory shattered.
The warmth was gone.
The scent of fresh bread was replaced by the acrid stench of blood and burning wood.
My small body trembled as I stood frozen in place, my hands sticky with crimson. My mother lay before me, her shiny black hair matted with blood, her once-bright red eyes now dull and lifeless.
"Mom?" My voice was barely a whisper. My tiny fingers clutched at her dress, shaking her. "Mom?"
She didn't move. But for a brief second-just one-her fingers twitched. A weak, desperate motion. Her lips parted slightly, and a faint breath escaped, carrying a single, broken whisper:
"Run."
My chest heaved. My heart slammed against my ribs as I dropped to my knees, gripping her hand, willing her to hold on. "No, no, don't go! Please, Mom-"
The house, our home, was in ruins. Shadows danced wildly across the walls as the flames consumed everything we had ever known.
A bootstep crunched against the blood-soaked floor.
My gaze snapped up, my breath hitching as I saw a man with cigarettes hanging loosely on his lips.
He exhaled slowly, the smoke curling around his face like a specter. His eyes-dark, detached-held no remorse. No recognition of the life he had just taken. The weapon in his hands dripped with fresh blood. Her blood.
A cruel smirk tugged at his lips as he flicked the cigarette away, it's embers fizzling against the damp floor. He tilted his head, studying me as if I were some insignificant insect in his path.
"Didn't expect a kid to be here," he muttered, more to himself than to me. His voice was calm, too calm, as if what he'd done was nothing more than another job to complete.
My tiny fists clenched, my nails digging into my palms as tears streaked down my face. My mother's words echoed in my head-No matter what happens, I'll always be with you.
But she wasn't.
She was gone.
And this strange man had taken her away.
My world had been shattered. My warmth stolen.
And in its place, something dark took root.
A heavy sigh escaped my lips as I slowly opened my eyes, the remnants of the memory still clinging to me like a suffocating fog. My chest felt tight, my throat dry, but I forced myself to push the emotions back into the void where they belonged.
The room was quiet, save for the faint rustling beyond the door. I didn't need to see her to know she was there. Selena.
Her presence was like a whisper in the air-hesitant but unwavering. She had been standing there for a while, probably debating whether to come in or leave me be.
I clenched my jaw, the ache in my temples growing.
The door creaked open.
My frown deepened as I turned my head toward her, my gaze sharp and unwelcoming.
"Have you come to make jest of me?" My voice was low, edged with bitterness.
Would she pity me? Mock me? Or was this just another moment for her to remind me how different we were?
Selena leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Please, as if I'd waste my time making fun of your sulking face. That'd be too easy."
I scoffed, running a hand down my face. "I'm not in the mood to entertain your bratty attitude, Selena."
Her expression didn't waver. She stepped into the room, closing the door behind her with an annoying sense of calm. "Good thing I didn't come here to entertain you, then," she said simply. "I came to see how you're doing."
Selena's words caught me off guard, but I didn't let it show. Instead, I leaned back against the chair, forcing a smirk. "Never been better," I drawled, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Thinking of throwing a party to celebrate my fantastic mood."
Selena arched a brow but said nothing.
I sighed, my patience wearing thin. "Alright, enough games. Why are you really here?"
"I heard what happened to the Sage. It's quite tragic," she says, avoiding eye contact with me.
I lean back in the chair, staring at the wall, trying to suppress the frustration gnawing at me. "You should be happy. You wanted him dead the last time you saw him."
Her gaze flickers for just a second, and she sighs, her voice calm but steady. "I remember the things I said and what I was feeling back then, but I never wanted him dead." Her gaze hardened as she added, "I'm quite disappointed you think I wanted that."
For a brief moment, my face fell, but I quickly masked it. I shot back with a sneer. "The hell did you want? The Death Scythe? You can actually have it. Take it."
She stands there for a moment, the silence between us thickening. Her eyes narrow, but her expression softens just enough for me to catch it. "You better wield that with pride, you fool."
I grit my teeth, feeling the rage build, clawing its way to the surface. "What the hell does everyone want from me?" My fists clench at my sides, fighting back tears that are ready to spill over. I swallow hard, refusing to let her see the cracks in my armor.
Selena chuckles, but there's a dangerous edge to her laughter. "Look who's throwing tantrums now." She grins, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "Remember, no one loves a shit storm, Liam."
"Go to hell" I growl, my voice low, barely under control.
"Calm down, Avenger. I don't want anything from you." She takes a step forward, her tone softening, as if trying to reach something buried deep within me. "Even though right now you feel you don't want to become the next Guardian, I know someday you'll take up that title."
Her words echo in my mind, the weight of them sinking into my chest. For a fleeting moment, doubt stirs inside me, but I crush it down, shaking my head. "Keep dreaming, brat. I live for my revenge."
"Yeah, yeah," she yawns, her voice nonchalant. But when she looks at me again, her eyes aren't mocking anymore. They're sharp, calculating, like she's trying to pierce through all the walls I've built. "Not my first time hearing that."
She reaches for the door, but then, with a pause, she turns back, her gaze serious now. "How long are you gonna let my mother keep you here?"
The question stabs into me harder than I expected. I flinch, but I don't let it show. I can't let it show. "Just leave me alone" I snap, trying to push her away, but the words come out hollow.
Selena sighs, the sound heavy with frustration. She walks away slowly, the click of her boots on the floor echoing in the silence she leaves behind. For a moment, I just stand there, her words hanging in the air, unanswered.
My mind drifts back to my mother, to the promises she made that now feel like broken fragments in a shattered world. "I'll always be with you, no matter what happens." Her voice, full of warmth, twists in my head, and I grit my teeth, pushing the memory away. I can't afford to feel that ache again. Not now. Not with everything falling apart.
But deep inside, I know the truth. I don't want to be here. I don't want to be stuck in this place. The weight of revenge is suffocating me, but I can't let go. Not yet. Not until I make them pay.
And maybe, just maybe, somewhere deep down, I'm afraid of what happens when that fire burns out.
********