"Don't think!" "Don't think!" "Don't think!"

He repeated these words as a mantra. They were like fuel for his escape from the room to the corridor, then the stairs, and eventually through a glass door that led to the well-cobbled streets of Lethica's mid-class society. He didn't stop there, weaving through crowds of people and stalls until the fatigue and pain caught up to him.

He was free and the fact that he hurt that woman didn't matter. It shouldn't matter, at least not as much as his conscience made it out to be. He hated himself for doing what he did but otherwise, he would be at their mercy, and he'd rather die than be subjugated to the whims of another again.

Whatever Stephan did, it gave the boy's body enough energy to weave his way across the crowds of men, sylphs, war-forged and Dremin. The streets were barely lit by the strands of the sun that escaped the ever present fog covering the sky. He kept running across the cobble till only dirt was left at the edge of the mid-markets. A few more feet and he reached the vents leading to the cleave.

It took effort to slide on the massive, rusted vents and to balance on the barely standing wooden planks of abandoned construction but that was the way of a street rat. Eventually he reached the edge. The long crevice that separated the city of Lethica in two and led to the slums below where the downtrodden of Mercia lived.

"Better than that power…" He scoffed loudly hoping to silence regret who didn't speak up. Sighing, the bandaged boy tried his best to ignore the looks of the people who passed him by and walked with his head down. A bandaged boy would draw attention at any other place but not Lethica and especially not the slums.

"Almost there." He winced as the resolve turned into pain and blurred vision. He had endured worse in the past and continued to scramble forward towards one of the main vents leading down the crevice until something grabbed him by the arm. He was half expecting Clara or Stephan till his vision followed a long feathery black hand.

A Dremin. An avian Dremin beggar wearing a white birch mask with a long cracked beak. It probably smelled the fear.

The dremin was covered in black and thin as a twig. As the grip tightened, the red eyes creeping through the mask followed the boy with intensity.

"Spare some." The beggar spoke in perfect high loci. His voice wasn't human but bestial. Not intentionally but without emotions it couldn't form itself properly. The boy would have obliged on a better day and offered any emotion it asked for, but he had to move forward before he the fatigue got to him.

"Let go!" The boy shouted but the creature almost obsessively drew closer. "Let go!" The boy shouted again drawing a crowd who murmured till two constables showed up much to the boy's dismay.

One was a half-sylvan, the other a human. They strode over in iron and leather armor marked with yellow and black—the colors of the Free States of Mercia. The colors were enough to ruffle the boy and the Dremin up with mere intimidation but one reached for his revolver and the other his sword.

"Is the demon bothering you kid?" The human of the two spoke with a raspy voice. A smug smile and yellow teeth matching the colors of his clothes.

"No…The Dremin and I were just talking…Nothing to see here." The boy spoke up with a stutter.

"Focus Randall…can't you see the boy is all hurt and the fowl is taking advantage of him. He's probably too afraid to speak up." The pointy eared constable laughed as he pushed the boy aside to his partner who grabbed him firmly by the shoulder, squeezing him in place.

"Watch kid…that's how they learn." The human constable made the boy look as his partner grabbed the revolver by the blunt side and hit the beast with it again and again as the Dremin whimpered but never spoke up. It was better he didn't. Whatever he'd say would only end up hurting him more.

The people murmured and the boy remained silent as some blood got on his face. Once it did another memory of blood flashed in his mind.

"Causing others trouble again…how useless." Regret broke his reverie with a fact. He caused this and he had to fix it somehow. The boy pushed the hand that held him and grabbed the other guard by the leg.

"Kid don't make this more complicated…we're just teaching the thing a lesson."

"He didn't do anything wrong!" The boy shouted back. He knew what he did was useless, heck if it was any other day he would have watched by the side and scoffed at the stupidity of this fiasco, but his mind was in chaos. He needed to quell the guilt and…

The guard hit him across the face. "Randall…I think the boy ran away without paying his medical bills." The guard winked at his partner who held the boy down. Just as he was going for another swing a warm voice interrupted the two.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

"He's my charge constables." The two guards followed the familiar voice to a mask wearing woman. They scuffled to stand upright and moved to the side.

"Your-your witchness…he-he was getting in the way."

"Well, I'll apologize on his behalf and assume this matter is settled." This was the last thing the boy heard before everything faded to black again or at least he wished it did because regret always had to have the last word.

"So close…should've been selfish…you'd be free now…free to die you decrepit thing."

----------

It was spring again. There he was reading a book under the shade of the garden trees. He enjoyed reading fiction recently. He couldn't remember what the book was about, nor did it matter because soon he found himself facing a child half his height.

The child was…who was he again? His features were blurred but something told him to envy the child who was holding his hand out to him. With reluctance, he grabbed the hand and his surroundings changed to the insides of a carriage filled with more blurred visages. One told him to hate, one to love, and one to fear. They murmured amongst themselves while he watched, ostracized from their inner circle.

He thought about feeling sadness, but his emotions were numb to their machinations, and even if he were to give into the situation a sudden jolt rocked the carriage sending it flying. Upon impact, the world shifted again to a dark bloody cell where he hung from the wall.

He remained up there for a long…long time until the chains rusted, and the taste of blood overcame his senses. The boy was finally free. He stumbled toward the iron door of the cell, which was battered and clawed beyond recognition, barely holding the darkness back.

The silence beyond the door invited him to escape but instead, he stayed inside this little haven and huddled in the corner. In response, the darkness grew alive and echoed screams and moans, some even calling the boy's name. It grew till it swallowed everything except the murmur that echoed over and over.

"Remember…the…promise."

With a gasp that echoed fear and frustration, he woke up from the nightmare that had haunted his sleep for as far as he could remember. He tried to recall the events of the nightmare, but his mind refused, no it begged him to stop his pursuit of memories. Relenting to the whims of his subconscious he turned around to examine his surroundings.

He was in the same bed he had escaped from not too long ago, but everything was tidy again, even the vase with new lilies.

"You must be hungry." Clara spoke from the side, tossing the boy an apple. She didn't ask anything nor rebuke him. Her tone even suggested that she was relieved to find the boy awake.

The boy wanted to refuse the gesture, but his stomach grumbled at the sight of the apple. He hadn't eaten a ripe one in a long time. So, he munched as she watched in silence, respecting the boy's boundaries.

She would leave and return two more times to bring the boy food. This continued for a week then two. All the while she nursed his bandages and wounds. She spoke firmly but warmly and each time she brought him news and stories of the world beyond his room. Most were grim, that was the trend of the current era. Some of the highlights included.

Rumors of Misery Dremin abducting children in the streets. A cover by the Freedom Paper narrating the demise of a notorious mercenary company at the borders of the Drazian empire after evidence of rebellious intent. Grishin Blighters and Drazian Abolishers fighting over an artifact excavated near the borders of the two nations. And the most grim piece of news was the new semester at Egrafelt's Academy of the Arcane. The sole Canite academy would soon be hunting for students again.

He took all this information with a grain of salt and a deaf ear. To be precise the boy tried his best to ignore her kindness. He would not fall it. It was a ruse of some kind, and he was smarter than he'd been before. However, it was hard to look over the warmth. It was intoxicating.

This routine continued until a moonless night greeted the boy with his favorite past time...insomnia. It probably the anxiety that kept him awake...it always leeched of whatever comfort he got muster.

In the dullness of the evening, he watched the perpetual cloudy sky. Even though the clouds never left it, the smoke of factories and chimneys was somehow making it darker. It almost entirely blocked what few rays of the red moon dared grace the world with its presence.

with sigh he turned to the flower at his bedside. The white scatter lilies were beautiful. He wondered if they grew lonely without the moonlight but then again Clara watered them religiously every day. Without her, they'd have withered away like him.

"What was ours taken...what safety we had now void." Regret spoke to him with her haughty attitude again. She was not wrong. He was now at under roof of people he barely knew. He didn't when this will bite him back again but his body didn't have the energy for prolonged exercise to manage an escape at least not yet.

"Don't! DON'T EVEN DARE!" Fear screamed so loudly almost becoming too real, making the boy lash out back.

"WHY NOT! Somebody has to make sense! They have to." The boy broke down in tears. He didn't want to admit how right fear was but he couldn't take the silence anymore. The walls he'd painstakingly built were becoming too surreal and he needn't someone…anyone to talk to other than himself.

As if on cue Clara walked into the room holding the dinner tray to find the boy in tears. She placed it aside and slowly warmed her way to hug the boy who was holding his head to his knees. The boy however snapped back and curled up away from her touch.

"It's…fine…everything is fine." She spoke softly, the mask barely a barrier between the two by now.

He could feel the affection carried in her voice. It had to be real, or he'd be making a terrible mistake.

"Asher!" The boy murmured between the tears.

"Did you…Did you say something?" Clara asked in confusion. It was her first time hearing the boy speak.

"My name! My name is Asher." He spoke with frustration as he wiped away the tears. The moment he uttered his name both fear and regret disappeared leaving a buzz of silence that was almost nauseating.

"Well, Asher it's nice to finally make your acquaintance." Clara laughed at the boy who seemed lost at what to say next. A proper conversation was something he hadn't experienced in a long time. With gritted teeth, he followed what came to his head.

"Nice to meet you too!"