> “ Do not remain within that cage, son. A vast realm lies ahead, eager for you to finally take flight.”
The stairs groaned softly, its creaks reverberating in the stillness of the apothecary.
A middle-aged lady carefully mounted the steps. An attic was reached by a narrow wooden staircase. The polished railings sparkled under her fingertips. A small, circular window at the landing let soft light cast long shadows that danced with her every step.
With each step, the town below faded into a whisper of bustling life. Replaced by her son's room's oppressive stillness. As she rose, her free hand gently caressed the coarse wooden walls. She touched the rough spots and gouges, scars from her son's growing.
As she approached the attic door, a moment of hesitation gripped her. Pausing for a brief moment, she lifted her hand with a touch of uncertainty. The wood stood strong, though it bore the marks of time.
Mrs. Welton closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, and then rapped softly with her knuckles, the sound a delicate, almost timid knock against the quietude.
“Eddie?” she whispered into the quiet, her voice barely breaking the stillness of the attic. She leaned in.. The other side lingered in their silence. Her brow knitted together, a delicate line appearing between her eyes. She cast a fleeting look at the door handle, an urge to twist it, yet she held back.
Instead, she knocked again, this time with a deeper intent, the sound echoing more profoundly through the room beyond.
Silence. Thick and unmoving.
Dust swirled inside the room behind the door. Sunlight streaming through the curtain illuminates the gloom. The old attic above the busy apothecary stayed still, only disturbed by twisted floorboards and seagulls from the streets below.
A tiny bed with tangled sheets lay against the wall beneath the sloping roof in the dimmest area of the attic. Disorganised blanket cascaded over the side, showing the weak mattress underneath. Eddie appears among the ruckus.
He lay like a shadow under the worn blankets, shoulders hunched inward. His face was turned towards the window, absorbing the morning's light. His pale complexion was contrasted by a few silver hairs that gently glowed in the light across his closed eyes. He looked younger, almost delicate, with shadows under his eyes, as if he could not escape his discontent even in sleep.
The silver of his hair spilled over the pillow in disheveled waves, catching the light like threads of moonlight caught in a storm.
A solitary knock echoes through the stillness of the room.
Eddie moved at the sound. Groaning, he reached for the cushion next him. He covered his head to filter out the world beyond his cocoon. He struggled to close his eyes and fall asleep. His colorful, knotted hair flipped out as he cuddled beneath the covers.
The door knocks once more.
“Go away…” he said, smothered by the pillow's embrace.
Mrs. Welton stayed outside, her hand hanging just above the door, almost frozen in time. Before returning to the door, she glanced down the stairs.
She knocked again—more resolutely, as if the sound itself could unravel the silence that enveloped the room.
“Eddie?” She called, yet no answer.
Mrs. Welton sighed, slipping her hand into her skirt pocket and touching her wand's smooth wooden surface. With a slight wrist movement, the wand appeared—a thin piece of dark mahogany with intricate interlocking ornaments that shimmered in the dim light.
Mrs. Welton pointed it at the door's lock, and a gentle click rattled the quiet attic, flickering the runes around the lock before dissolving into the shadows. She tucked her wand away and gently opened the door.
The room was full of clutter: scattered papers, a tangle of carelessly tossed clothes, and open books in mid-thought. The chaos was illuminated by soft morning sunlight through a thin, partially open curtain, leaving the corners in shadow. The air had a hint of old parchment and ink.
Mrs. Welton’s gaze swept the room, her eyebrows lifting slightly as she took in the disarray. “Of course,” she muttered under her breath, stepping carefully over a crumpled tunic on the floor. “A tornado couldn’t have done a better job.”
She stared at the bulk under the covers, immovable except for Eddie's breathing. His silver hair flowed over the pillow, glinting like stars against the faded linen.
“ Edward Welton! ” she called, her tone sharp but laced with exasperated fondness.
“You agreed months ago to help out in the apothecary. I’m not running this place alone while you spend all morning hibernating like some bear in a cave!” She crossed the room with purpose, the floorboards thumped under her feet.
From under the blankets came a muffled groan, followed by Eddie’s half-asleep, sarcastic retort. “You could always fire me, mom. No hard feelings.” he muttered, his voice heavy with sleep.
Mrs. Welton huffed, planting her hands on her hips. “Oh, don’t tempt me, Edward! If I had anyone else to rely on, I would!”
She passed the clutter of books, clothing, and posters. She gently opened the thick curtains, warming the room unexpectedly. The warm salty sea air stroked her skin and softly swayed the tattered posters on the walls, swirling dust motes.
The room seemed to sigh at the intrusion of light, as if it, too, had been holding its breath.
When the illumination changed, Eddie groaningly tightened. He tried to tighten the cushion to cover the remaining sunlight, but failed. It seemed like the world had woken up too soon as the light warmed his back. With the assault of light, he sought the darkness within the cushions.
Eddie groaned louder, pulling the blanket over his head. “What are you doing? Are you trying to freeze me to death?”
“I’m trying to wake you up, you lazy sloth!” Mrs. Welton shot back. “You’ve got orders to prepare, customers to greet, and floors to sweep. And If you’re not up at the tower in five minutes, I’ll give you five reasons to regret it.”
Mrs. Welton crossed her arms “Your father could use your help at the Alchemical Tower today,” she announced, stepping forward with a firm but motherly tone. Her brow was arched just enough to say she wasn’t about to take ‘no’ for an answer. “You know how much he relies on you, especially now that he’s not as spry as he once was.”
Eddie groaned dramatically, burying his face deeper into the cushion as if it could shield him from the day ahead. “Dad manages the apothecary just fine on his own, Mom,” he muttered, his voice muffled. “It’s just a few potions isn’t it?”
Mrs. Welton’s eyes narrowed, and she planted her hands on her hips in a pose Eddie knew all too well. “ Just a few potions? ” she repeated, her tone sharp enough to cut through his sleepy haze. “Oh, forgive me, Master Alchemist, I didn’t realize concocting remedies for half the town while juggling delivery orders and inventory was just a few potions !”
Eddie peeked out from beneath the cushion, his hair sticking out at odd angles. “If he’s so busy, maybe he should hire more help. Or better yet, why don’t you fire me already?” he shot back with a half-smile, clearly testing her patience.
Mrs. Welton threw her hands up. “Oh, don’t tempt me, Edward Welton! If I thought for a second anyone else could put up with you, I’d have them sweeping the floors by now!” She sighed, her annoyance giving way to something softer. “But your father doesn’t need just anyone . He needs you . You’re the only one who got a talent for this, even if you’d rather spend all day dreaming under that blanket.”
Eddie groaned again, though his mother’s words tugged faintly at his sense of guilt. “Fine, fine, I’ll help. Just give me a minute…”
Mrs. Welton softened her tone further, stepping closer to him. “Besides,” she said, a knowing smile tugging at her lips, “Your aunt Catherine will be visiting this week.”
At that, Eddie’s head popped up behind his cushion, his curiosity momentarily replacing his grogginess. “Aunt Catherine?”
“Yeah, she wrote to us last month, but I suppose you wouldn’t know since you’ve been too busy ignoring the letters piling up on your desk,” Mrs. Welton replied with a pointed glance toward a cluttered corner of his room.
“Right,” Eddie sheepishly chuckled, but when Catherine's name was mentioned, Eddie blinked, his half-awake mind struggling to place the name. “Wait… Aunt Catherine?” he asked, frowning slightly as he sat up. “Who’s that again?”
Mrs. Welton froze mid-step, her hands settling on her hips in that all-too-familiar way. “Oh, honestly, Ed,” she said, exasperation dripping from her words. “How could you forget Catherine? My sister? The elf with the fiery red hair, pointy ears?”
Eddie tilted his head, still drawing a blank.
Mrs. Welton groaned dramatically, throwing her hands into the air. “The one who used to take you out adventuring, of course! Dragging you into old ruins and twisted dungeons like a pint-sized treasure hunter? Ring any bells? Honestly, I don’t know how I let her get away with it.”
At that, Eddie’s groggy mind finally clicked into place. Memories of him as a little kid, scrambling over rocks and squeezing through tight corridors with Catherine’s infectious laugh guiding the way, came rushing back. “Ohhh,” he murmured, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “You mean that Aunt Catherine. The elf lady, the one you always yelled at because we came back covered in mud or—what was it that one time—slime liquids?”
“Don’t remind me,” Mrs. Welton said, shuddering at the memory. “You two would burst through the door, filthy from head to toe, with her grinning like she’d discovered Elven treasure and you trailing behind her with that same ridiculous smile. Do you know how many times I had to scrub the smell of dungeon muck out of your clothes?”
Eddie chuckled softly, the sound a mix of nostalgia and amusement. “To be fair, it was fun at the time, mom. She made it feel like we were real adventurers. She even taught me alchemy while we were out there.”
Mrs. Welton’s tone softened, though her expression still held a trace of scolding. “I remember. You’d come back babbling about her experiments and little alchemical tricks, and I’d have to remind you that not every shiny stone is a magical artifact. But she did spark something in you, didn’t she?”
Eddie hesitated, the memories pulling at him like faint whispers from another time. Catherine’s bravery, her laughter echoing through wet, ancient hallways, her boundless enthusiasm—it had been infectious. But those times felt so distant now. “That was a long time ago, Mom.”
“It was,” Mrs. Welton agreed, her voice quieter now, her gaze growing softer. “But I have a feeling Catherine still has a few adventures up her sleeve. Who knows what she’s planned this time?”
Eddie at last raised his gaze to meet hers, casting aside the pillow that had shielded his face for what felt like an eternity. Her words ignited curiosity within him.
The mother and son were separated by silence. Isn't it easier to stay in my quiet room? Eddie thoughts, but despite of it, he couldn't ignore the subtle remorse, a faint echo of duties, and his mother's growing anxiety.
“Alright, then,” he finally admitted, the word escaping him as if it were a hesitant capitulation. “I’ll get up. Just... give me a moment.”
“Take your time, but not too long,” she said, her smile gentle and warm, a flicker of hope shining brightly in her eyes. “Your father is relying on you.”
With that, she pivoted gracefully and made her way back to the door. The soft sea breeze flows around her. Eddie lay there, his gaze fixed upon the ceiling.
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Pleasant breeze from the open window carried the apothecary's scent of herbs, swaying the curtains. The rough wooden boards were coated golden by window light. A faint sigh from the bed reminded him of the responsibilities ahead, so he got up.
With a gentle shove, he cast the blankets aside and let his legs dangle over the side of the bed, the coarse wooden floor sending a shiver through his feet.
Eddie stood up, his slim frame trembling slightly as he adjusted his posture. The mirror at the corner of the room revealed a boy he didn’t recognise. He swiped a hand through his silver hair to tame it, but it simply fluffed up even more.
He then stepped towards the door, the well-known creak of the floorboards creaks beneath him. The sounds of the town below reached his ears, a lively echo of existence carrying on in his absence.
-o-
The attic door creaked quietly as Eddie left, like if unwilling to go. He walked across the narrow passageway the floorboards creaks underneath as he walked. As if sighing, the Welton Household hall filled him with warm light and the earthy smell of dirt. Sunlight from tall, mullioned windows cast a shadowy mosaic on the raw wooden planks.
The passageway was filled with the aroma of dried lavender and rosemary and a faint metallic scent from the tower above. In alchemical experiments, his father produced extracts and lost himself in his studies.
With a soft sigh, Eddie reached for his jacket, the brown wool warm and coarse against his skin, and turned to face the spiral staircase that curled upward like a tempting vine.
Eddie paused and peered at the rune etched on the floor near the stairwell, its aqua glow beckoning. The rune, made by his elder brother Alfred, made the thousand-step ascent feel like a mere ten. Eddie was burdened by the prospect of wielding magic, something he had grudgingly abandoned. Instead, he prepared for the grueling climb.
He inhaled and stepped up the first step of the stairs, echoing his footsteps through the tower's stone walls. As he climbed, the polished wood creaked gently. He walked with resolve, his legs burning with effort and his breath quickening in the silence.
He felt the ascend to extend forever, a struggle that reflected the miles ahead. Eddie continued up the tower while the floorboards groaned and the wind moaned through his side windows.
-o-
Eddie finally reached the top of the tower, his lungs burning and breath hitching in quick, ragged bursts as he crossed the threshold into the alchemist’s lab on top of the tower.
Soft light from the open window cast amusing shadows on the craggy stone walls. He was surrounded by the odours of crushed plants and boiling concoctions and the saline air from big windows with delicate wooden beams. This vantage position revealed the Hamlet of Weshaven, a seaside hamlet full with merchants and fishermen ready for their voyages.
“Hey there, Eddie!” Mr. Welton said, looking up from his meticulous work with a casual air.
Mr. Welton looked up from his desk, relaxed. Ageing grey hair fell in wild curls over his face, giving him a quirky genius look. On his nasal bridge, round glasses framed his bright blue eyes that gleamed with warmth and mischief. He looked like someone who had spent his life studying and working, wearing a basic collared shirt with rolled sleeves. Despite his age, his slender frame was nimble.
“How is it possible for a young guy like you to be panting like you just ran a marathon, hmm? I meanwhile, just an old man in my seventies, breezing up and down these stairs like it's no big deal!"
Eddie rolled his eyes, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he shot back,
“You’re totally cheating, Dad! You totally used that illusion rune Alfred whipped up to bypass all those stairs!”
“Touché!” His booming, contagious laughter filled the room and rattled the jars on their shelves. “But it’s all for the sake of speed, and efficiency!”
“Right, what’s on the agenda today, Dad?” he asked, eyeing the neatly organised notes that laid out the day’s missions.
“Alright, we will need to get these raw materials processed,” Mr. Welton said, slipping on a pair of protective goggles as he approached the array of ingredients strewn across the workbench. “We’ve got to get them ready for brewing in the apothecary. Your mom's a bit understaffed today, and I could really use another set of hands around here.”
Eddie nodded, shaking off his lengthy sleep's fog. He joined his dad and used a wicked-looking knife to slice through the twisted roots. The boiling concoctions, clinking glass devices, and scent of plants and chemicals comforted him as he worked.
Lab was busy. On another table, glass jars bubbled and steamed, their twisting tubes blazing like ancient monster veins in the faint light. Some bubbled with vibrant hues, while others lay in little glass vials with ethereal light. Eddie saw jars of dried dragon's blood, sparkling scales from mythological fish, and powdered gems on the walls and recalled his childhood ambitions of becoming a famous alchemist, which he had long abandoned.
-o-
As Eddie and Mr. Welton toiled together, the harmonious symphony of slicing and grinding resonated through the lab, mingling with the bubbling and hissing of potions brewing in their cauldrons.
“You know, Eddie,” Mr. Welton began, his hands steady as he measured out a vibrant powder, “You’re almost twenty now. Time zips by quicker than the potions I whip up in my cauldron.”
Eddie took a moment, his eyes drifting from the herbs he was chopping to the lab around him. “Sure, I suppose so. It seems like it was only yesterday that I was just a kid,"
“So,” Mr. Welton started, casting a sideways glance at his son, “Have you thought about the Sage’s Scholarship program yet?”
Eddie froze, the knife suspended in the air in a moment of suspense, poised above the root he was about to slice.
“Not really,” he said, giving a casual shrug. “I’m not sure I’m cut out for something like that.” It’s been tough to think about anything beyond today.”
His dad nodded, a look of deep contemplation crossing his features.
“It’s not merely a matter of age, son. Your potential is off the charts! If you don’t seize the moment during these years, you could end up letting amazing chances slip right through your fingers.”
“Once you hit twenty-five, the door to the Sage’s Scholarship program swings shut. You can no longer apply to one, think about it.”
“I get it, Dad. But I—”
“Hey, listen up,” Mr. Welton chimed in, his tone a mix of authority and warmth. “Your aunt Catherine is going to be pretty bummed if you don’t go for it. From the very beginning, she’s had your back, even when you doubted yourself. Imagine the incredible things you could accomplish.”
Eddie, hit by a sudden rush of memories, stopped his chopping and glanced up at his dad.
“Oh, Mom mentioned about Catherine swinging by this week,” Eddie said, a spark of curiosity cutting through his usual indifference. “It’s been ages since Catherine crossed my mind. So, how’s she holding up?”
“Ah, Catherine.” Mr. Welton grinned, a spark of nostalgia dancing in his eyes, “Your aunt is a real piece of work! She’s a pretty impressive Alchemist all on her own. It’s amazing how much alchemical talent flows through the family, particularly with that Elven heritage of hers.”
“Yeah, remember her being amazing at that,” Eddie said, his mind wandering as he chopped the herbs with a casual flick of his wrist. “But I totally blanked on how much time has passed since we last met.”
“Ah, those were the days,” Mr. Welton remarked, a touch of nostalgia colouring his words. “Hey, remember when Catherine used to drag you off on wild adventures through dungeons and ancient ruins? You were always so curious and had a fearless back in those days.”
Eddie chuckled, a smile playing at the corners of his lips as he recalled those thrilling escapades with his aunt, sneaking into shadowy nooks where every moment was bursting with joy and wonder.
“I can’t believe I ever had the energy to scramble up into those ancient ruins. What was I even thinking?”
“You were young, bursting with curiosity,” Mr. Welton said, a proud grin spreading across his face. “And it wasn’t just that; you were soaking up the wisdom from the greatest. Catherine was my Master before she set off on her own epic adventure. She taught me much of what I know today.”
“Hold on, you were her apprentice?” Eddie enquired, arching an eyebrow in curiosity. “You?” The legendary Mr. Welton?”
“Absolutely!” Mr. Welton laughed “Before I became the legendary Mr. Welton,” his father continued, waving his hand as if brushing away a pesky fly. “I was just a kid, and Catherine was already stirring up quite the storm in the alchemical world. It’s incredible to consider just how gifted she truly is.”
Eddie felt a twist in his gut, a sharp reminder of how much he craved those wild connections and epic adventures. “I totally need to get in touch with her, write a letter or something.”
“Absolutely,” his dad cheered on. “Catherine would totally be stoked to hear from you. She’s always seen the greatness in you, even when you couldn’t see it yourself.”
-o-
Eddie took a step back from the solid workbench, swiping the back of his hand across his forehead to clear the sweat. With a flourish, he stuffed the final ingredients into robust wooden crates, ready for their journey down to the bustling apothecary below. He paused for a second, taking in the impressive organisation he had pulled off, a wave of pride swelling within him
“Okay, Dad, I’m heading down,” he shouted, striding towards the door that opened to the twisting staircase. The doorframe creaked like it was just as eager to escape as he was.
But just as he was about to swing the door open, Mr. Welton’s voice stopped him in his tracks. “Eddie, hold up for a second. could you hang around for just a little while longer? I've got one more favour to ask of you."
Eddie spun around, his curiosity ignited like a spark in a dark room. “Another favor?” What is it?”
Mr. Welton propped himself against the workbench, the morning light streaming in and painting warm shadows across his face.
“So, there’s this thing that popped up in my head, and I could really use your help with it.”
“What sort of thing are we talking about here?” Eddie asked, a twist of anxiety churning in his gut.
“It’s nothing too complicated, I swear,” his dad said, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, but it didn’t do much to ease Eddie’s nerves. “Just a little tidbit I think you’ll find interesting.”
Eddie crossed his arms, caution dancing in his eyes. “Does it have anything to do with… magic?”
His dad let out a low chuckle, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes.
“Sort of. Hang on just a bit more; I have a feeling you’re going to enjoy this.”
Mr. Welton’s smile dimmed just a touch as he bent down beneath the workbench, retrieving a small, intricately designed cage. Within the confines of the cage itself, a lovely songbird flitted about, its radiant feathers shimmering in the soft glow of the light.
“Eddie, I need your help with something important,” he said, gently stroking the cage like it was the most precious thing in the world.
Eddie's brow knitted together in a mix of bewilderment and curiosity. “What’s this about?”
“Let this songbird go free,” Mr. Welton said, his voice a mix of kindness and authority. “It’s time for it to spread its wings and soar.”
Eddie paused, a surge of protectiveness washing over him for the tiny creature.
“But… it’s a songbird.” It could totally go missing or end up in a bit of trouble.”
“Songbirds are meant to sing and soar, not be caged,” his father said, the warmth in his voice clashing with the unease bubbling up inside Eddie. “Seriously, just let it slide.”
With a heavy sigh, Eddie stepped forward, gently accepting the cage from his father's grasp. As he opened the cage’s door, the songbird paused for a heartbeat, then erupted into the air, its wings a flurry of motion as it ascended into the vastness of the sky, a vibrant splash of colour against the endless blue. Eddie observed its departure, a bittersweet sensation unfurling within his heart.
“And just like that, she is free,” Mr. Welton declared, a spark of triumph dancing in his gaze.
Eddie spun around to face his dad, the heavy cloak of uncertainty still draped over his shoulders.
“Alright, but what’s the deal with that?”
Mr. Welton's face transformed into a mask of mischievous gravity.
“Alright, I've got another task for you.”
Mr. Welton then went on digging under the workbench again, he found a bigger, more elaborate cage. The morning light illuminated a gorgeous Fire Falcon in its cage, its plumage shimmering like liquid gold. The bird's ferocious glance fell on Eddie, and he suddenly saw its magnificent majesty.
“Let this one go, too,” Mr. Welton said, his voice playful.
Eddie's eyes went as wide as saucers. “You want me to release the Fire Falcon?” But it’s worth a fortune! You can’t just let it go!"
Mr. Welton leaned in closer, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes. “How about I wager you a hundred gold coins?”
“A hundred gold coins?” Eddie found himself caught in a whirlwind of temptation, the thrill of the wager tugging at him while his instincts screamed to safeguard the awe-inspiring beast before him. “But it’s a Fire Falcon!”
“Exactly,” Mr. Welton said, a grin spreading across his face like he’d just uncovered a hidden treasure. “This isn’t merely about the wager; it’s about daring to leap into the unknown.” Consider it a crash course in bravery.”
Eddie paused, a storm of thoughts battling it out in his mind. “But what if it just doesn’t return?”
“Well, I guess that’s how the universe works,” Mr. Welton said, his eyes unwavering. “Sometimes, you’ve got to release your grip to discover what treasures await you.”
Eddie let out a reluctant sigh, his head bobbing in agreement as he fought to push down the knot of apprehension twisting in his stomach. “Alright, I’ll do it.”
As he drew near the cage, Eddie inhaled deeply, his heart pounds. He opened the cage’s door and with a gentle push, urged the Fire Falcon onwards, anticipating its swift ascent into the sky.
Yet, to his astonishment, the falcon stayed resolutely perched within the confines of the cage, its golden eyes locked onto him, as though contemplating the choices before it.
“Come on!” Eddie urged, his heart racing like a runaway chariot on a quest. “You’re meant to soar off into the sky!”
But the Fire Falcon just cocked its head to the side, refusing to budge. Eddie felt a heavy weight settle in his stomach as the truth dawned on him. “No way… this is not happening.”
Mr. Welton let out a hearty laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “Well, well, well, it seems I’ve come out on top, son.”
Eddie was hit by a wave of disappointment, swirling with anger and confusion like a storm brewing in his chest. “Why not?” Why didn’t it just take off into the sky?
Mr. Welton's expression turned warm as he moved in closer. “Sometimes, Eddie, just like that falcon, we get a little too cosy in our cages. We hesitate to take that leap, even when the chance to escape is staring us in the face.”
Eddie lingered, the disappointment brushing against him like a cool breeze, as he reached for the meticulously arranged ingredients resting on the workbench. The vivid hues of the herbs and raw materials drew his gaze, yet his thoughts wandered, circling back to that moment when the Fire Falcon had stubbornly remained in its cage.
“Thanks for the lesson, Dad,” he said, managing a tight smile as he turned to face his father.
He sensed the words dripped with sweetness, yet beneath the surface, frustration bubbled like a volcano ready to erupt. He wasn’t looking for some fancy metaphor about comfort zones and soaring through the skies—he just needed to find his own way forward.
As he approached the door, Eddie wore a mask of calm, resolute in his mission to keep the irritation simmering just below the surface a secret. “I’ll just take these to the Apothecary,” he said, trying to keep his voice cheerful, even though a storm of irritation brewed inside him. “Appreciate the, um, ‘lesson’.”
Mr. Welton observed his son's silhouette,worry reflected in his eyes. He could perceive the strain in Eddie’s shoulders, the manner in which his jaw clenched tightly. “Eddie,” he called after him, but the young man had already vanished through the door, descending the twisting staircase that spiralled down from the tower.
The lab door creaked shut behind Eddie as Mr. Welton leaned against the workbench, arms folded, watching his boy descend the stairs. His quiet sigh blended with the rich, aromatic alchemical concoctions around him.
“Ah, Edward,” he murmured to himself, shaking his head slightly. “If only you could see what I see.”
Mr. Welton felt a deep ache in his chest, aware that Eddie was ensnared in a tangle of fear and reluctance. His heart ached for his son, longing to share the wisdom he had known through the years. He grasped, with a profound clarity, the anxieties that tethered souls to the ground, preventing them from taking flight.
“At times, one must allow them to navigate their own path,” he murmured, observing the final sight of Eddie as he faded from sight.
“Do not remain in that cage, son,” he breathed softly, his voice a mere flutter in the air. “A vast realm lies ahead, eager for you to take flight.”