'Did I make the right choice?'
Alden lay awake in bed, unable to sleep. He had tried for hours, but whenever he felt close to entering the land of dreams, thoughts of his latest interaction with Celeste would haunt his mind like a dark spectre. It was exhausting. And driving him crazy. However, Alden inwardly knew he had made the correct choice.
This was a necessary step for them to become true lovers.
That was not to say he handled the execution well, though.
'I made a real big mess of that.'
Alden thought bitterly.
He felt like his heart was crying out in distress, yet he could do nothing about it. For he only had himself to blame. Him. And his stupid brain. Perhaps, this was simply just the price he had to pay for adopting such a logical mindset.
Alden almost wished he hadn't become so rational - or at least almost wished he hadn't tried so hard to go against his very nature as an emotional person. It was only causing him pain.
Pain was inevitable, though.
He would just have to tough it out.
At least, until enough time passed that he was no longer troubled by the events of the invasion.
With his eyepatch reminding him of that, though…
Alden cursed and clutched his head.
'Why do I have to keep overthinking?'
The young man tossed some more in bed. He continued his futile struggle.
Until his body tired of even that…
And so, finally, Alden received some reprieve.
He relived the events of the First Trial. With nowhere to hide, Alden experienced the full brunt of their horror once again. He dreamt of the mangled corpses of the innocent children.
A few hours later, he awoke, gasping for air.
A sheen of damp sweat coated Alden's forehead.
His face was pale as if he had just seen a ghost.
The young man struggled to breathe.
He inhaled and exhaled, his heartbeat gradually returning to normal as the effects of the nightmare wore off. Alden muttered a silent curse. Then, he shook off the harrowing ordeal and headed to the bathroom to freshen up. Once there, he gazed at his reflection in the mirror, noticing the bags beginning to form under his eyes.
Alden clicked his tongue. Finished with his morning routine, he returned to his room to fetch Ignia, before the human and phoenix descended the stairs in tandem. Entering the living room, Alden discovered that Elara and Alistair were having breakfast, while Celeste was absent.
A sharp pain pierced Alden's chest at the thought of his precious love.
Gritting his teeth, he plastered a warm smile, masking his pain, and said:
Alistair looked up from the scroll in his hand and frowned.
His adoptive mother also displayed a similar reaction.
Alden shifted uneasily.
Then, he cleared his throat.
"Is, uh… is Cece still asleep?"
He swallowed, masking his anxiety to the best of his ability.
"No. She left. Apparently, she wanted to get a headstart on healing her patients."
Alden saw Elara narrow her eyes at his response.
"Something happened between you two… didn't it?"
The young man shivered at his mother's sharp intuition. He gulped, looking anywhere but at her. A heavy sigh then sent a jolt of panic through his body. Alden snapped his gaze towards Alistair, who had an inscrutable expression on his face.
"Once you've finished your breakfast, meet me out back."
The Guildmaster's firm tone brooked no argument. Alden nodded. He watched as the Expert mage pushed his chair back, stood up, and kissed his wife on the head.
Then, he disappeared.
'I've gone and done it now.'
Biting his lips, he sat down.
Ignia hopped onto the table, sparing him a glance, before diving into the food - a mix of cured meats and cheese, as well as bread and a few pastries Celeste had baked the day before. Overall, it was a nice breakfast. However, the taste was the furthest thing from Alden's mind. All that mattered was what Alistair would do to him, and if he was about to receive a very big scolding.
Granted, he probably did deserve it.
His mother glanced at him sympathetically. Strangely, though, Alden discerned a hint of knowing in her gaze.
Did she know what the Guildmaster was about to do to him? Or rather, would it be more accurate to say that she knew her husband well enough to have a good inkling of how he would react?
Either way, Alden was most likely in for a lecture. Releasing a heavy sigh, the young man bade his mother goodbye and dragged his feet over to the backyard. Ignia followed, landing on his shoulder, a sense of child-like curiosity and concern travelling through their bond in response to his resignation and slight agitation.
Alden absently stroked his familiar to calm her down.
The little phoenix leaned into his touch.
For a brief moment, a brilliant smile bloomed on Alden's face.
Stepping out into the backyard, Alden shivered and reflexively circulated his mana. His breath clouded over, kicking up a roiling storm of thin mist. He stepped onto a small footpath, heading towards a patch of frost-covered grass. Since they lived in an area where Guilds and renowned Paladins resided, Alden and his family were privileged enough to not only have a 'backyard', but also have a small garden as well - although, most of the flowers and other blooms had been placed closer to the footpath, for the sole reason of protecting them.
Protect them from what?
... The "muscle heads" in the family - at least that's what Elara called him and Alistair. Alden's lips twitched, recalling the time he and his father had accidentally destroyed one of her most precious plants while sparring.
He shivered. This time, it was not not from the cold. Instead, it was something much more chilling. Something so harrowing that it could trump even the mightiest Defiled with ease.
It was so vast and immolating that Alden had genuinely feared for his life. Thankfully, Elara hadn't killed them. But they were most definitely punished. Unconsciously, a sheepish grin graced his face at the memory.
Shaking his head, Alden inhaled deeply, sensing the cool air chilling his lungs.
Then, he walked over to the centre of the grass expanse and waited.
He closed his eyes and steeled himself for what was to come.
Ignia flew about, dancing in the light snow. A while later, the sound of footsteps drew near.
Alden instinctively opened his eyes and found the Guildmaster walking over with the same inscrutable expression he had worn earlier. The only difference this time was that the older man now carried two weapons. Both short-swords.
Alden tensed, understanding of the situation slowly dawning on him.
Plucking the weapon from the air - after the Expert mage tossed it to him - Alden inhaled deeply and bent his knees slightly.
His expression turned somber.
…Surrounded by light snow, both father and son faced off.