Chương 45: FESTIVE MELANCHOLY

The grand hall of Blackwood Keep was a symphony of celebration. Crimson and gold banners, emblazoned with the family crest, a black falcon with wings fully spread and diving with lethal speed in the middle of a laurel wreath against a red background, hung from the high rafters. Its talons were outstretched, poised to strike, the image one of motion and aggression, representing the Dukker's philosophy of swift, opportunistic action and a ruthless pursuit of their goals.

The banners rustled softly with every gust of wind from the half-open windows. The air was thick with the rich scent of honeyed cakes, spiced cider, and roasted meats. Elias, seated at the head of a long, festively decorated table, watched the scene with a curious blend of childlike wonder and detached, adult observation. He was seven years old today, and the party was a grand affair, a spectacle of nobility and opulence that he still wasn't entirely accustomed to.

The only other child aside from him was a girl with indigo-black hair. She, however, vanished before he could make any impression about her. Her father, a man called Roric, exchanged a few words with his father before leaving, even though his father tried to convince him to stay. In the end, the man and his daughter left before Elias could talk to her. He watched them leave from the window. He didn't really mind, but he thought it would have been nice to talk to someone closer to his age—anyone other than Aina.

Just then, she called him, startling him. She told him that the table was set and he should come along. Elias saw their innocent faces, unburdened, carefree, and filled with a simple joy he could only remember in fleeting glimpses. A wave of fondness washed over him as he looked at his new parents, Lord Alaric and Lady Elara, who talked among themselves, their eyes often drifting back to him with a warmth that felt as real as the sun. Aina, his fierce, protective older sister, sat a little apart.

Due to certain reasons, this celebration was only among the immediate family which was only them. His father ws an only child and his auties, who were his fathers cousins couldn't make it as they had married into other houses and so were no longer regarded as Dukkers.

It was the same reason why no one from his mothers side had been in attendance althought she had tried to convince her brother Ortis to attend, even using his not seeing his daughter in a year as an excuse to bring him over, but he gave excuses, only sending her a gift to give to his nephew and a separate letter for Alaric. Elias observed the puzzled look on his fathers face but after he had read the letter, Elias knew he'd return the favor with an even more colorful selection of vocabulary.

'Whats their beef anyway?' He wondered as Elara tried to take the pen and paper from her husband who reassured her that he was just greeting his brother-in-law, though the devious look on his face wasn't convincing anyone. Elias couldn't help but smile. This was his family now, a living tapestry of care and connection he couldn't say he hated. A sudden pain shot through him, His gaze drifted over the gathering, it brought him back to his past life as Ethan. His birthdays had been nothing like this.

They seemed more like quiet affairs, a humble family gathering around a small, store-bought cake. The memories were blurry, tinged with a persistent melancholy. He remembered a faint sadness that his older brothers, busy with work and lives of their own, were often unable to make it. And his younger siblings, bless their hearts, would always, in their childish way, manage to make the day about them somehow. It was never malicious, just... chaotic and selfish, in a way only small children can be.

The memories became darker as he recalled the time after the 'incident.' He had attended the esteemed Crestwood Academy, a place that thrived on the flawless achievements of its students, especially the legacy set by his older brothers, whose pictures hung in the main hall as symbols of distinction.

Day after day, the shadows of their perfection felt like physical chains, intensified by the calculated cruelty of his peers who saw him as an easy target, that the indifferent teaching staff conveniently overlooked, prioritizing the school's reputation over a weak boy's suffering. He had tried to tell hisparents but they had only brushed it off saying that he wasnt a child to be demanding attention. The only Two people who tried to stand up for him were Liv and another girl called Sera.

Sera was one of the most popular girls in school. She was smart, athletic and had the looks yet she still chose to hang out with Liv and him. He simply couldn't understand what she sought to gain but still warmed up to her. Still, he bore the brunt of it, lest the bullies turned thier attention to his friends. The torment culminated one rainy afternoon during an unsupervised chemistry demonstration; the beautiful, well-liked student was caught in a sudden, violent explosion targeted at him as a prank.

The chemicals burnt the left side of her face and she hit her head, sending her int a temporary coma. Though everyone knew he wasnt at fault, the narrative was swiftly controlled by the administrators, who, eager to protect the high-ranking families of the true culprits, instantly pinned the blame on the silent, marginalized Ethan, cementing his being ostracised and shattering his already fragile world under the weight of an injustice he could never undo.

It was then his parents, confused and lost, had tried so hard to comfort him. They would sit beside him for hours, their hands gently rubbing his back, their voices a soft, continuous stream of reassurance. Liv tried a different approach. She would bring him his favorite comic books, novels, anything she could think of to coax a smile out of him. But he had been lost in a deep, suffocating depression. The world felt unfair, cruel, and without meaning.

He had rejected them all, a silent, angry child who believed no one could understand his pain. He had pushed away the very people who loved him most, convincing himself that they were not enough to fix the emptiness inside. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. As a musician began to play a soft, melodic tune on a piano, Elias looked back at his new mother, her gentle smile as she listened to the melody.

His new father's face was alight with laughter as he spoke. Aina's sharp gaze softened as she watched him. And in that moment, as he saw the genuine love and care in their eyes, a sudden, brutal clarity struck him. It wasn't them. It had never been them. He was the one who had closed himself off. He wasn't a victim of an uncaring family; he was a victim of the unfairness that is the world.

He remembered the glimpses he had pushed away: his older brothers' tired but genuine smiles in the photos they sent, the careful wrapping of their gifts, the way his parents would sneak into his room late at night just to watch him sleep. And Liv... she had never stopped trying. He remembered her face, a blur of concern and a desperate hope that he would be okay. He hadn't been alone. He had simply been too lost in the murky depths of his own depression to see their hands reaching for him.

'But is it my fault?' He got no answer.

'No, the world was unfair.' Otherwise, the incident wouldn't have happened. His bullies wouldn't have gone scot-free. His family would have had more time for him. His suicide attempt would have failed. Even in this world, he would kill himself, leaving people behind in the grief and sadness of his passing. He wouldn't have met Deus and faded quietly into nonexistence, or Deus himself wouldn't have been such an asshole. As emotional as he was feeling right now, it was still unfair. All of it.

A single, silent tear, hot and heavy, streaked down his face. Elara, who had just walked over to him, her face filled with warmth, saw it.

"Elias, my love? What's wrong?" she asked, her voice soft with concern. He reached up, his small fingers touching the path the tear had carved. He looked at his mother, then at the festive hall, the happy faces, the vibrant colors. He was confused. Confused by his own emotional response, confused by the vivid memory, and confused by the anger that was now burning away the sadness. Deus's cruel words echoed in his mind again, no longer a phantom menace but a real, tangible insult.

'I'll force you to be grateful, boy.' In that moment, the melancholy was replaced with a fierce, blinding resolve. He wiped the tear away, his eyes now filled with a new, burning determination.

'I will defy the world and prove you wrong you devine bastard."

"Nothing's wrong, mother. I'm just so happy. That's all." The lie felt natural. He couldn't die until he had learned more about Flow anyway so why not reach a stage in life where his death wouldn't cause his new parents and sister the same grief his old family must have felt. That, he felt, would do away with some of the unfairness. He had to live, for them, and for the promise of a future where he could face the god who had damned him.