I opened my eyes slowly, surfacing from the depths of a slumber far too tranquil for this place. But tranquility was an illusion, and illusions never lasted long—not in my world.
The moment I awoke, memories surged—unwanted, unwelcome. They came not like a gentle tide, but like a storm crashing into fragile walls.
A sharp jolt ran through my body as fragments of my childhood flooded my mind, vivid and merciless.
'Those memories… I wanted to forget them.'
A soft weight shifted beside me. My sudden motion had disturbed the boy who had fallen asleep while curled against me. He stirred faintly, his small hand grasping weakly at my tunic as though clinging to a dream.
I caught him before he could tumble over. My arms instinctively wrapped around his frail form, holding him steady, protecting him.
His face was peaceful, innocent—like an angel untouched by the cruelty of the world.
But I knew better.
I knew who he really was.
Malthorn.
