In the first month of year 3052 of the Dragonvail Empire's calendar, the skies were clear and the sun was so bright as it was at its peak. The light spread evenly across the land, making the air feel dry and heavy as the heat lingered without relief. This was true for the whole quarter of the year, which was why most people at this time usually stayed indoors and rarely went out unless the places they visited had rooftops or similar things which covered the rays from the sun.
In a city where the empire's influence was at its lowest, the people living and visiting here were somehow adjusted to the heat from the season, as many of the city's streets were actually bustling despite the oppressive warmth, with merchants continuing their trades and travelers moving about with measured steps under whatever shade they could find. This city was called Abarrus, located at the very end of the south border of the Dragonvail Empire's territory, where the authority of the empire felt distant and less enforced. The city was situated in a valley and was not more than 30 square kilometers, with a population of around a million or so people, making it dense, with buildings packed closely together and narrow streets weaving between them.
In fact, many of the residents here were actually travelers from different places, their clothing and appearances varied, since the city was the hub for the southerners if they wanted to enter the empire or the draconians if they wanted to leave the empire. The city itself was part of the Sumari Kingdom, a vassal kingdom of the empire which surprisingly did not have much connection to the capital city, resulting in a place where rules were more relaxed and the presence of imperial authority was barely noticeable.
Most structures inside Abarrus were made either from clay, stone, bricks, glass, and similar materials, their surfaces often reflecting the harsh sunlight in dull or faint glimmers. Many of them were rectangular shaped buildings, built in simple and practical designs, with most of them only one or two storeys high, giving the city a compact and grounded appearance. Also, like any other cities of the kingdom, the residents did not use any type of wood for their shelters, not even for support or decoration, which was quite symbolic of their religious beliefs, as if avoiding it entirely was a silent but constant act of devotion.
The city itself was divided into three distinct districts, where each one of them was governed by an aristocrat family, their influence clearly marked by the condition of the streets and the size of the structures within their territories. These families controlled the city for numerous generations together, maintaining their authority through both cooperation and quiet rivalry, even though many had tried to seize their control from them over the years and failed. However, the relationship between each of them differed from one another, some maintaining a fragile understanding while others held restrained hostility beneath formal interactions.
...
Inside a local pub near the mansion of the Lyn family, people from different ethnicities would come here to refresh themselves, gossip, or hear some news, filling the space with overlapping voices, the smell of alcohol, and the low hum of casual conversation.
"Have you seen the gates of the Lyn family? It's been a week since it had closed. Some folks I know working for the family said that the young master may have already died from the curse."
The drunkard with one horn on his forehead proudly said, leaning slightly as he spoke, as if pointing out to everyone that he had some connections inside the family.
The other drunkard on his side annoyingly retorted, waving his hand dismissively, "Blah! You're just spouting nonsense. If the only heir of the Lyn family really died, the news would have already spread throughout the city faster than anything!"
"Heh! What do you know!? Maybe they are just good at hiding things!" the first one said, his voice rising as he leaned back slightly, clearly enjoying the attention he was getting.
The other replied with a short laugh, shaking his head as he spoke, "Haha, if the Lyn family heard your words, you'll surely be in trouble!"
The first one answered without hesitation, waving his hand carelessly as if brushing the warning aside, "As if they're going to come here and drink in this dirty pub! Hahaha!"
Both of the drunkards just laughed without worry, their loud voices echoing slightly within the enclosed space, not minding the other people who were listening to them, while some nearby showed clear annoyance through their expressions and glances.
These scenes were actually common in this type of place, where alcohol loosened tongues and made even reckless words sound casual, so the people coming here already had some kind of tolerance and simply ignored it most of the time. Though, what the drunkards were talking about was actually also being talked about all around the city, passing from one group to another in whispers or open speculation, as the Lyn family, which was an aristocrat family who governed the western district, was really in a precarious situation.
The young master of the family, the only heir with a rightful status, had been inflicted by the curse of the surface and was now fighting for his life, his condition unknown to the public. The gates of their main residence were officially closed, remaining shut without exception, and there was still no news coming from them for the past week. This made the people in the city grow more curious, while others with their own agendas grew restless, sensing an opportunity within the uncertainty.
...
Meanwhile, inside the Lyn family's mansion, the atmosphere was depressing and somewhat suffocating, as if the silence itself carried weight. The master of the house had already dismissed most of his manservants and maids, making the mansion feel more empty, with long corridors left unattended and rooms closed off in stillness. The only ones who remained were the protectors of the place and close aides of the current patriarch of the family, moving with quiet discipline and speaking only when necessary.
Heavy footsteps could be heard in the hallway, echoing faintly against the walls as they made their way into the bed chamber of the young master. The sound carried a sense of urgency, yet remained controlled, as if the person walking was restraining their pace to avoid appearing desperate.
Eventually, the footsteps halted, and silence remained for a few seconds, before a clicking sound was heard, made as the door was pushed open with care. The current patriarch of the family, Augustus Lyn, entered the room and made his way toward his son's bed, his posture firm but his movements slightly heavier than usual. A young woman wearing a maid's attire immediately bowed toward the patriarch, her head lowered, before reaching for the door and closing it softly behind him, making sure not to produce unnecessary noise.
Another aged man wearing a white coat and pants deeply bowed to the patriarch before speaking, his voice carrying a hint of helplessness, "Greetings, my lord. I will be blunt, the young master's condition has worsened again... This time, it is already hard for me to diagnose if he is going to wake up or not. I deeply apologize for my inability to help the young master, my lord..." The aged man continued his bow, lowering his head further as he admitted his own shortcomings, not daring to look up.
Augustus acknowledged the doctor's words and slightly nodded. His gaze lingered on the physician for a brief moment before lowering, his expression calm on the surface yet visibly weighed down by exhaustion and something deeper. He never blamed the latter for this. This was clearly not his fault, nor anyone's fault. The faint scent of medicine hung in the room, mixing with the still air, making the atmosphere feel heavier.
"No need to apologize, Physician Wang. I've already accepted this outcome," Augustus slowly said, as if he was carefully choosing each word to maintain his composure.
Though his tone remained controlled, everyone in the room understood how deeply those words had cut into his heart. The young maid lowered her head, her fingers tightening slightly around the cloth she was holding, while Physician Wang stood still, unable to meet Augustus's eyes for long. The room went into silence as both the young maid and Physician Wang did not know what to reply, the stillness stretching uncomfortably as the weight of the situation pressed down on all of them.
It was the patriarch who broke the depressing silence once more. His posture remained upright, but his shoulders seemed heavier than before.
"How much time does my son have left?"
His voice was firm, yet there was a faint roughness in it, as though the question itself was difficult to voice. Hearing the question, Physician Wang hesitated for a brief moment, his lips parting before he finally spoke, choosing not to hide the truth from Augustus.
"His organs have already started failing... So young master has three days left at most, my lord."
His voice was low and careful, each word delivered with reluctance. The words seemed to settle heavily in the room, making the silence that followed even more suffocating.
Hearing the bitter truth, it took a minute before Augustus responded. During that brief pause, he remained completely still, his eyes fixed somewhere ahead as if processing the finality of what he had just heard. Then, he slowly nodded, the motion almost imperceptible.
"You can both leave for now. I want to be alone with my son."
The young maid and Physician Wang silently bowed towards him. Neither of them dared to say anything further. They turned and walked toward the door with quiet steps, careful not to make unnecessary noise, before gently closing it behind them, leaving Augustus alone in the now even quieter room.
Augustus went near the bed, forcing himself to remain steady. The faint footsteps of the stone floor sounded unusually loud in the quiet room. He stopped at the bedside and stared at his son's thin face grievously. His son's complexion was pale, his lips dry, and his breathing so weak that it was barely noticeable unless one paid close attention. The blanket covering him seemed too heavy for his frail body, rising only slightly with each shallow breath.
Augustus stood there without moving for a moment, his eyes fixed on his son. He wanted to cry, he wanted to hug him, and to touch him even at his final moments. But he could not do it. His hands remained at his sides, stiff and unmoving. He was not brave enough to forgo his stoic personality, a trait he had maintained for years without falter. He could not let others know that he had a gentle side, even though no one was watching. The habit of restraint had already rooted itself too deeply within him.
"Your father has tried everything... But still, I could not find a cure for this damn curse... If only gods were real, I would not hesitate to offer everything just to make you live longer... I'm sorry, Aton."
While saying those words, Augustus reached out his left hand, his fingers trembling ever so slightly as they moved toward his son's face. For a brief moment, it seemed as though he would finally close the distance. But eventually, he stopped midway, his hand hovering in the air for a second before he slowly retracted it, curling his fingers back into his palm.
In the end, Augustus just clenched his teeth in silence, the tension in his jaw clearly visible, and walked away, each step heavier than the last, leaving his dying son alone.
However, alone was not actually the correct term here, as after a minute when the door was closed, the space right beside the bed trembled ever so slightly. The air distorted in a subtle manner, as if heat was rising from an invisible source, causing the surroundings to ripple faintly.
If someone saw it, they would just think that they were hallucinating, or that the air had glitched for no reason. But in reality, a naked man was already standing at the exact spot, his figure fully present yet somehow unnoticed, staring at Aton's body while in deep thought. His gaze remained fixed, as if carefully observing every detail of the boy's condition.