The room was dark, dimly lit by a single flickering bulb that cast shadows on the stained concrete walls. The smell was unpleasant, a mix of rusted metal and something burnt. Tyrin sat on a hard chair, his hands resting on his knees, his gaze fixed on an undefined point. In front of him, a woman with a tired face and tense expression observed him hesitantly.
She cleared her throat, shifting in her chair, before speaking in a rehearsed, almost robotic tone.
"Tyrin… I'm sorry, kid. I couldn't find anyone better to deliver this news, so I called you here. Unfortunately, your mother has passed away."
The words were delivered bluntly, as if the woman were trying to maintain emotional distance and finish quickly. Tyrin didn't react immediately. He stayed still, as if the information hadn't reached him.
"What do you mean, my mother… died?"
His tone was neutral, but the words seemed to weigh heavily in the air. The silence that followed was almost unbearable, broken only by the low, constant hum of a broken fan in the corner of the room.
"It was… an accident. One of the walkways near the southern furnace collapsed. She tried to save herself but… she ended up falling into the main cauldron. There wasn't time to rescue her. It was… quick."
The woman seemed uncomfortable, fiddling with the folds of her uniform. She knew there was no way to soften the blow. Falling into a cauldron heated by nuclear fission wasn't something anyone could endure, let alone accept. Cassandra had already warned Tyrin about the dangers of the furnace, but never in his worst nightmares did he imagine it would become his reality.
He closed his eyes, feeling the words swirl in his mind.
"And where is she now? I need to see her." The moment he spoke these words, he felt foolish for thinking there might still be something left. The response came immediately.
"There's no body, Tyrin. The cauldron… well, you understand."
She hesitated, as if searching for the right words to explain the inexplicable.
"But because of this, we've advanced her salary. We know you have a younger sister who uses a wheelchair, so we've done our best to ensure you both have some support for now. And if you need, we can offer you a job…"
"In the furnace? No, thanks."
Tyrin's tone was firm, almost cold. He didn't want to hear anything else. The woman tried to continue, perhaps to explain or offer more help, but he abruptly stood up and left, letting the door swing behind him.
That night was suffocating. Tyrin sat at the table, staring at the empty chair where his mother used to sit. It was strange how the silence felt heavier than any words could. He should cry, should scream, but he couldn't. Everything felt distant, as if he were trapped in a bad dream he couldn't wake from.
"When is Mommy coming back, brother?"
The thin, innocent voice of Frida brought him back to reality. She held a small blanket, her eyes full of expectation. The question was like a knife, cutting deeply, but Tyrin hid the pain.
"Not today, sister… not today."
Frida frowned, confused, but didn't insist. She headed to her room, leaving Tyrin alone in the living room. He ran a hand over his face, trying to push back the tears threatening to escape.
It took nearly a week for Tyrin to gather the courage to tell Frida the truth. During that time, he tried to keep everything normal, but the weight of the loss crushed him. When he finally summoned the strength, he sat beside her on the small bed in her room and held her hands.
"Frida, I need to tell you something. Mom… isn't coming back."
The little girl frowned, clearly not understanding.
"Why? You said she traveled for work… did she go somewhere really far away?"
Tyrin took a deep breath, trying to find the right words.
"She… went to a place where we can't see her anymore. Do you know what 'forever' means?"
Frida looked at him, her eyes filling with tears. She didn't fully understand, but she felt the weight of his words.
"Forever… is a really long time, isn't it?"
"Yes, Frida. A really long time."
And then she cried. She cried like never before, and Tyrin held her as her sobs echoed through the small room. He said nothing because he knew no words could comfort her in that moment.
When Frida finally fell asleep, exhausted, Tyrin sat there, staring at the ceiling.
"I need to find food. I need money. But how am I going to do that?"
The question spun in his mind, but no matter what solution he came up with, he always arrived at the same conclusion: he would have to leave. But who would take care of Frida while he was gone?
Lost in thought, he fell asleep sitting there.
The next morning, Tyrin felt the weight of the world on his shoulders as he opened his eyes. The silence in the house was almost deafening, as if the very air carried the emptiness left by Cassandra's absence. He tried to avoid Frida's gaze, knowing her unanswered questions weighed heavily on him.
When he heard loud knocks on the door, he jumped to his feet. He just wanted a purpose. As he approached, muffled voices reached his ears.
"So, this is the kid Dr. Karin wants? What's so special about him? As far as I know, he's just a punk dealing shady business on other planets."
"It's true. My son has way more courage and presence than this boy."
"Shut up, you two!"
Tyrin frowned, leaning against the door to listen more closely. Who were these people? He knew he hadn't done anything wrong, but Helheim wasn't a place where innocence kept you out of trouble.
"Boss, let's break this door down and take him."
"That's right."
"Gentlemen, we don't act like that. This place has eyes, and unnecessary rumors can spread. We'll come back later with the local regent's permission to enter, but not before."
The conversation was interrupted when Tyrin suddenly opened the door. The men straightened at the sight of him, surprised by his boldness.
"What do you want with me, gentlemen?"
His tone was polite but carried evident irony. He kept a smile on his face as he crossed his arms. The provocation didn't go unnoticed by the soldiers, who took a threatening step toward him before being stopped by a third man.
"So, you're proud. Interesting."
The man's eyes—whom Tyrin would later learn was Dante—locked onto him, scrutinizing every detail. The defiant stance, the sharp gaze, the way he protected the house behind him… everything seemed to scream "potential."
"Brother, who are these people?"
Frida appeared, clutching Tyrin's shirt tightly and resting the wheel of her chair against his calf. The boy placed a hand on her shoulders to reassure her.
"It's nothing, Frida. These are… friends I met this week."
Dante raised an eyebrow, impressed by Tyrin's composure. He had expected a frightened child but found a young man carrying maturity beyond his years.
"We came to talk about an opportunity. Do you have a moment?"
"If these two stay outside, no problem. I don't want their smell in my house."
"You little brat…"
"Silence. No problem. Soldiers, guard the door. I'll be right back."
Dante entered, observing the simple, worn-down interior of the house. He couldn't help but notice the contrast between the visible poverty and the dignity Tyrin carried.
"I'd offer you tea and snacks, but as you can see, we're having some trouble."
"That's fine."
Dante adjusted his tone, realizing he wasn't dealing with an ordinary child.
"You likely know the boy who died with your mother was one of the candidates set to leave this month. He had already taken the first dose. Now, here we are: I'm without a candidate, and you're without your mother."
Tyrin frowned. He was beginning to understand where this was going, but he still didn't know what Dante expected from him.
"Maybe you don't know, but everyone selected for harvest receives a significant sum for their family. As long as you're productive, we'll shelter and take care of your loved ones."
"What I know is that the money is pitiful, and their life expectancy is ridiculously short. I also know you don't care for anyone after they die. That might work with others, but not with me."
Dante sighed, crossing his arms.
"I thought, after everything you've been through, you'd be less opposed to my proposal. The fact is, because of your mother, we lost an important harvest."
Tyrin's eyes narrowed, his expression hardening. He stood abruptly, making the chair creak.
"What are you implying? In case you didn't know, my mother died along with him, and as far as I was told, your brave soldier screamed like a little girl. What does my family have to do with an accident caused by your poor infrastructure?"
Tyrin's intensity made the soldiers quickly enter the house, their hands ready to draw their weapons.
"Is something wrong, sir?"
Dante raised a hand, calming the men. He realized he had gone too far.
"I apologize for my words, Tyrin. Perhaps I misspoke. What I mean is that this can be either an immense tragedy or an opportunity to change your life and your sister's. I know few return, but this is the only way to ensure something better for her. And, honestly, I believe your mother would have made the same choice for you."
Dante's words made Tyrin hesitate. His anger gave way to a sense of helplessness. He knew the man was right, but accepting it felt like swallowing poison.
"Get out of my house."
"Of course, but think carefully. This is a unique proposal, and there are others like you with as much or even more potential. To be honest, I wouldn't be here if someone hadn't chosen you."