Two weeks.
Sareth woke with that thought nailed into his mind like a splinter. Two weeks since the Rusted Anchor incident. Two weeks since Davos died. Two weeks since Kael changed.
Or maybe he didn't change. Maybe he just became more of what he always was.
He sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes. Dawn light filtered through the window, illuminating the books stacked on his desk. Siege Tactics of the Second Conflict, Economics of the Great Houses, Naval History of Stormvale. Words and more words. Knowledge he would never use.
Because I can't wield a sword. Because my Aether is weak. Because I'm… useless.
He stood and walked to the window. From there he could see the training yard, already bustling despite the early hour.
And there they were. The three groups.
At one end, Rylan trained with the older initiates. His group was disciplined, precise. Every movement synchronized. Warriors in formation, following the golden heir. Rylan moved among them like a controlled storm, his blue electric Aether glowing faintly with each strike.
At the other end, Kael directed his own. Mika, Favius—already recovered from his broken ribs—and other lesser initiates. They weren't as polished as Rylan's group, but there was something different about them. Something wilder. Hungrier. And Kael… Kael moved among them like a chess master shifting pieces.
Then there was Lyssara. Alone in the center of the yard, but not truly alone. Varen stood to one side, watching her. She trained with an intensity Sareth had never seen before. Every strike, every form, executed with brutal perfection.
Everyone has their place, Sareth thought, gripping the window frame. Everyone except me.
The dining hall was quiet when Sareth entered. Varen read documents at the head of the table, his breakfast untouched beside him. Elyn attended to two minor nobles who had arrived yesterday, her melodic voice filling the space with empty talk of regional politics.
Sareth sat in his usual spot, at the far end of the table. No one looked up.
Invisible. As always.
Servants brought his breakfast. Bread, cheese, fruit. Simple food. Food fit for the son who didn't matter.
The door opened. Kael entered, still dirty from morning training. Sweat stained his shirt, dust coated his pants. It should have been improper to present himself like that, but no one said anything. Not even Elyn.
Because now Kael was… different. He had something that made people look away when he broke the small rules.
"Good morning," Sareth murmured when Kael sat two seats away.
"Mm," Kael replied, reaching for a water pitcher.
That was all.
Sareth swallowed. "Sleep well?"
Kael drank long before answering. "Enough."
He didn't look at him. Didn't even turn his head.
Enough. Not even 'yes' or 'no.' Just 'enough.'
"Training looks intense," Sareth tried again, hating the desperate note in his voice.
"It is."
Silence.
Lyssara entered then, still in her training clothes. She sat across from Sareth, a small smile playing on her lips as she watched the exchange between the brothers.
"Fascinating," she murmured, low enough for only Sareth to hear.
Sareth looked away, focusing on his plate. The words stuck in his throat. He wanted to ask Kael about his plans, about whether he still needed him for anything, about whether they could talk like before.
But the words didn't come.
And Kael finished his breakfast in silence, stood, and left without another word.
Sareth stared at the empty chair.
"Don't take it personally," Lyssara said, her voice soft but piercing.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Sareth replied, but the lie tasted bitter.
Lyssara stood, taking her plate. "Of course not."
And he was left alone again.
The library was his refuge.
It always had been. While Kael learned to fight and Rylan polished his role as heir, Sareth hid among dark wooden shelves and ancient scrolls. Here, among the words of men dead for centuries, he could pretend his weakness didn't matter.
He settled into his favorite corner, near the window overlooking the east garden. The light was good there. Perfect for reading.
He opened Siege Tactics of the Second Conflict, but the words blurred. His mind wandered, returning again and again to Kael's blank expression at breakfast.
He used to tell me his plans. Used to ask what I thought. Now…
The library door opened. Sareth didn't look up, assuming it was a servant.
The sound of books being stacked made him glance over.
Carmen stood by one of the shelves, organizing a precarious tower of heavy tomes. Her brown hair was pulled into a practical braid, and she wore the work apron of the librarians. She hummed something soft, a melody Sareth didn't recognize but that sounded… warm.
For a moment, he just watched. The way she frowned slightly while reading the spines. The way she bit her lower lip when deciding where to place each one.
He cleared his throat.
Carmen startled, dropping a thick book that hit the floor with a thud.
"Sareth!" she exclaimed, hand to her chest. "I… I didn't see you."
Sareth stood quickly, tripping over his own chair in the process. "Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."
"It's… it's fine," Carmen bent to pick up the fallen book, her face slightly flushed. "You're always so quiet."
"It's a gift," Sareth replied, trying to sound light. He failed. It came out more bitter than intended.
Carmen looked at him with those brown eyes, too perceptive for her own good. "Need help? With whatever you're reading that has you so focused you didn't notice me come in ten minutes ago."
Sareth blinked. "Ten minutes?"
"Yes." Carmen smiled, small but genuine. "I was reorganizing the military history texts. But you were… somewhere else."
Somewhere else. Yes. Thinking about how I lost my brother.
"I'm fine," he lied. "Just… thinking."
Carmen set the books on the shelf and walked toward him, her expression softening. "Need help? With the books, I mean. Or… or just someone to be here."
Something in his chest loosened. "The books are fine. But…" He swallowed. "Company would be… nice."
Carmen's smile widened slightly. She sat on the nearby bench, patting the space beside her. "Then sit. And tell me what you're reading that has you so distracted."
Sareth sat, keeping a respectful distance. But not too much. "Siege tactics. From the Second Conflict."
"Sounds fascinating," Carmen said, and to Sareth's surprise, she sounded sincere.
"Really?"
"Yes. Well," Carmen shrugged, "probably not as interesting as the poetry books I prefer, but I like listening when you talk about these things. You… you light up."
Sareth looked at her. "I light up?"
"Yes. Your eyes get different. Less…" She paused, searching for the word. "Less sad."
Silence stretched between them. Not awkward. Just… present.
"Am I sad?" Sareth asked finally, though he already knew the answer.
Carmen turned to him, her expression serious now. "Since Davos. Since Kael… since everything changed."
She notices.
"I didn't know him well," Sareth admitted. "Davos. But Kael… Kael was there. And since then, he…"
"Has been distant?" Carmen finished softly.
Sareth nodded, staring at his hands. "It's like he went to that bar and came back someone else. Or maybe he always was, and I just… just didn't want to see it."
Carmen's hand touched his. A light touch, barely a brush, but enough for Sareth to feel warmth spread up his arm.
"Sareth," she said softly, "you're not like them. Like Kael or Rylan or Lyssara."
"I know," he replied, bitterness returning. "I'm weak. My Aether is—"
"No." Carmen's voice was firm. "That's not what I meant."
Sareth looked up, meeting her eyes.
"You're different because you still… still feel things. You still care about people, not just what they can do for you." Carmen squeezed his hand lightly. "That's not weakness. It's… it's what makes you good."
Something cracked inside Sareth's chest. Not painfully. More like ice melting.
"How do you know that?" he whispered. "How do you know I'm not like them?"
Carmen smiled, sad but warm. "Because you see me, Sareth. When you come here, you see me. Not 'Ama Maren's granddaughter' or 'the library helper.' You see me. And that's…" She paused, blushing. "That's more than most do."
Sareth didn't know what to say. Words tangled, knotted with emotions he couldn't name.
So he just squeezed her hand back.
They sat like that, in silence, while morning light filtered through the windows and the smell of old paper wrapped around them.
"Carmen," Ama Maren's voice echoed from the entrance, breaking the moment. "I need you in the kitchen."
Carmen stood quickly, releasing Sareth's hand. Her face was fully red now.
"Coming, Grandmother," she replied.
She turned to Sareth, biting her lip. "Sareth? I'll be here again tomorrow. Same time."
"Yeah?" The hope in his voice embarrassed him, but he couldn't stop it.
"Yes. And…" Carmen lowered her voice, "you can tell me more. If you want. About anything."
She left before Sareth could answer, her quick footsteps echoing on the stone floor.
Sareth sat alone in the library.
But for the first time in weeks, he smiled.
Afternoon found Sareth on one of the upper balconies, watching the training yard. He shouldn't be here. He should be studying or… or doing something useful.
But he couldn't help it.
Below, Kael directed his group in combat drills. His voice was clear, authoritative. Mika obeyed every order without question, his movements mechanical but precise. Favius joked occasionally, but there was something in his tone—respect, maybe fear—that hadn't been there before.
And Kael… Kael moved among them like he was born for this. Confident. Controlled. Dangerous.
When did it happen? When did he stop being my brother and become… this?
"Watching?" Lyssara's voice made him jump.
She leaned against the wall, arms crossed. How long she'd been there, Sareth didn't know.
"Just… looking," he replied weakly.
Lyssara stepped to the railing, standing beside him. "He's changed, hasn't he?"
Sareth didn't answer. He didn't need to.
"He used to seek you out," Lyssara continued, her voice neutral. "Needed you. You were his confidant. His conscience, maybe."
"And now I'm nobody," Sareth finished bitterly.
"No," Lyssara corrected. "Now you're… optional."
The word hurt more than any insult.
"Why are you telling me this?" Sareth asked. "To hurt me?"
"To prepare you." Lyssara glanced at him sideways. "Kael is going somewhere you can't follow, Sareth. Not because he doesn't want you to, but because you can't. You don't have the strength. You don't have the will."
"I have—"
"What?" Lyssara cut him off. "Books? Knowledge? Kael doesn't need more information. He needs power. And you…" She paused. "You remind him of who he was before. When he was weak. When he was invisible."
Sareth closed his eyes. "So what do I do?"
"Find your own path." Lyssara stepped away from the railing. "Or stay here, waiting for him to need you. But I warn you, little brother—that wait could last your whole life."
She left, leaving Sareth alone with his thoughts and the distant sound of steel clashing against steel.
Sareth waited outside Kael's room until night fell. His back ached from leaning against the stone wall, but he didn't move.
I just need to talk to him. I just need…
The door at the end of the hallway opened. Kael appeared, exhausted and filthy. Sweat and dust streaked his face, and he limped slightly.
"Kael," Sareth called, standing.
Kael stopped, turning slowly. "Sareth. What are you doing here?"
"Can we talk?"
Kael sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'm tired, Sareth."
"It'll just be a moment. It's about—"
"About what?" Kael's voice hardened slightly. "About how I feel? About Davos?"
Sareth flinched at the tone. "I just… wanted to know if you're okay."
Kael studied him for a long moment. Then his expression softened slightly. "I'm fine. Really."
But he wouldn't meet his eyes.
"You've been different," Sareth insisted. "Distant."
"It's been a hard two weeks. That's all." Kael opened his room door. "I need rest."
"Do you still… still need me?" The words slipped out before Sareth could stop them. "For what we talked about. Being useful."
Kael paused in the doorway. Slowly, he turned to look at him. There was something in his eyes. Pity? Irritation? Sareth couldn't tell.
"Of course, Sareth. When I need you, I'll let you know."
When I need you.
Not of course I need you. Not you'll always matter.
When I need you.
"I understand," Sareth said, his voice barely a whisper.
Kael nodded once and entered his room. The door closed with a soft click that echoed like thunder.
Sareth stood in the hallway, staring at the dark wood. He heard movement inside—footsteps, the sound of water pouring.
He used to be my confidant. Now I'm a tool on standby.
He walked away slowly, his footsteps lonely echoes in the empty corridor.
He couldn't sleep.
Sareth lay in bed, staring at his room's ceiling. Shadows danced in the light of the single candle on his desk.
Kael has his path. Rylan has his. Lyssara is forging her own.
He stood and walked to the window. The mansion was dark, only a few windows lit here and there. The sea roared in the distance, constant and indifferent.
And me? What do I have?
He thought of Carmen. Her warm eyes. Her hand touching his. How, for the first time in years, someone had truly seen him.
Maybe I don't need to be like them.
He sat at his desk, pulling out a blank sheet of paper. His hand trembled slightly as he took the quill.
If I can't be strong like them, at least I can be useful in another way.
He began to write. Words flowed slowly at first, then faster. He wasn't sure what he was doing exactly—a journal? Notes? Plans?—but it felt right.
Kael doesn't need me as a confidant anymore. But maybe… maybe I can find another way to matter.
He wrote until the candle burned out, until his eyes stung with fatigue.
And when he finally collapsed into bed, as sleep claimed him, one thought floated in his mind:
Even if Kael doesn't need me anymore… I still exist. And maybe that's enough.
For now.