Amidst a gray afternoon, Veluthen stood before an immense cross, wearing a suit that had been relegated to oblivion years ago. There, in that solemn instant, he bid farewell to his greatest mentor: his father, a figure who had inspired him since childhood and who now rested in memory and the silence of goodbye. Although the relationship between them had always been affectionate, memories of living with his late mother—who had passed away less than a year ago—still permeated his heart with a bittersweet mixture of longing and resilience.
Ironically, Veluthen had always sensed that his father would be the first to go. It was no secret that former members of the Solyvar army led short lives; the manipulation of the mysterious Theus energy, especially in the unique form his father mastered, consumed anyone's mind and vitality. Thus, it was almost a miracle that he had managed to pass away while holding onto the inner memories of his wife and son.
Despite the emotional weight of the moment, the brown-haired young man's countenance did not betray uncontrollable sadness. He had been preparing for this day with an almost stoic determination, even if tears had fallen on occasion when witnessing, with his own eyes, his father's final silent goodbye. Now, before the memory of Caedrin Vexarythen—whose presence had always symbolized a stern reminder of the masculinity he wasn't allowed to show—Veluthen held himself back. He feared, after all, that if Caedrin were nearby, he wouldn't hesitate to deliver a "metaphysical belt-whipping" to correct the fragility Veluthen secretly felt to the point of wanting to cry.
While his mind wandered between memories and resolutions, some members of the Vexarythen clan approached to offer condolences. Many were faces unknown to Veluthen, which was unsurprising; in a family representing nearly 30% of the inhabitants of the vast metropolis of Valthoryn, social circles were restricted, and bonds were often limited to intimate rings. Unlike the Kallorythar—who could barely fill a neighborhood—and the Calmarion, hailing from the coastal city of Lunatharic where ties were tighter, the Vexarythens and Rydalithares rarely mixed with the outside world.
Veluthen knew many of the comforting words were spoken more out of convenience than genuine emotion, coming from admirers who, despite recognizing his parents' heroic legacy, could no longer comprehend the magnitude of their past deeds. The new era, marked by values of Liberty, Equality, and Respect, seemed to offer no more room for heroes whose peak belonged to decades past.
It was then, while immersed in such thoughts, that his device vibrated, breaking the silence. A message from Serath, his old childhood friend with whom he hadn't spoken in a long time. The message simply said:
"Meet me at BJ's bar, my treat—I owe her anyway."
Along with the message, an irreverent sticker—of a man sitting on a firework that shot up and exploded on his backside before he ran in desperation to put out the flames—elicited a sincere laugh from Veluthen. That was, without a doubt, Serath Vexarythen's trademark, always capable of turning heavy moments into instances of levity.
After requesting a driver, Veluthen stopped by his house to change the old suit for a bluish jacket adorned with diagonal gold details, proudly sporting the symbol of a mythological eagle—his family's traditional emblem.
Upon arriving at the bar, whose neon sign sloppily displayed the name "Night Wings" over a wooden facade long forgotten by paint, Veluthen felt a strange familiarity. Despite the years away, the place maintained the same casual and somewhat melancholic atmosphere. Bridja, whom he had always considered an older sister, was in charge of the establishment. Gifted with undeniable artistic talent in various areas—except, curiously, for attracting customers—she seemed oblivious to any attempt at aesthetic renovation, both inside and out.
Veluthen scanned the room. He noticed only two regulars: a Black man with blonde hair, wearing a red shirt and absorbed in a drink of undefined origin, and a woman with long brown hair, whose tired face was softened by a metallic arm that gleamed discreetly as she tended the counter with an invariably neutral expression.
True to habit, Veluthen entered the premises and, with a mischievous smile, approached Serath. In a sudden gesture, he channeled a subtle current of Theus between his fingers, molding a small arrow of energy that landed lightly on his friend's shoulders.
"Surprise!" Veluthen exclaimed, as the energy descended with unexpected force, making Serath stumble and nearly lose his balance.
Instead of the expected fright, Serath raised his eyebrows with a mix of irritation and amusement, his high-pitched voice echoing through the bar:
"Oh, wow, the funny guy's here."
Laughing, Veluthen took a seat next to Serath, recalling childhood days when both shared dreams of becoming heroes. In a few weeks, Serath would join the Solyvar army as an engineer, while Veluthen remained faithful to what he mastered: the manipulation of Theus.
"Come on, I've been gone for two months and you guys won't even give me a hug?" Veluthen teased, a nostalgic glint in his eyes.
Serath smiled, reaching out to greet him warmly and pulling him closer before turning toward Bridja, who, with her deep, low voice, spared no criticism:
"We've known each other for five years, and you two still act like you're thirteen!"
Never missing a chance to tease, Serath intervened playfully:
"Go on, Miss Grown-up! You talk like you're a fossil from the Jurassic period. After all, it's only been three years since you joined us, hasn't it, Velutinho?"
Veluthen just nodded, letting the conversation flow naturally.
"She just can't accept that after putting up with us for so long, she has to admit her mind is just as messy as ours," Bridja replied, crossing her arms emphatically, recalling a past episode with a tone of reproach. "Remember that time I left you two alone and you flipped your dad's car on the Yellow Line? Do you really think I can just sit back and watch?"
The conversation soon took an unexpected turn as Bridja interrupted herself to shift her line of reasoning:
"One of you has a mother spending her vacation on the other side of the country, while the other now finds himself alone, with hormones raging—and on top of that, you might end up with some crazy girl pregnant. After all, if you have that big house with a garden, I imagine plenty of women will want you just for being an heir, right Veluthen?"
Serath, still laughing, added:
"First of all, I don't do those crazy things anymore—I'm practically married, you know? And second, respect the fact that the guy just lost his father. Just because he's no longer with us doesn't mean his pain isn't important!"
Still playful but trying to lighten the mood, Serath concluded:
"I'm good, the old man wouldn't want to see me sad. Spend as much as you want, if you like."
But in a more serious tone, Serath returned to the subject, remembering:
"The funeral was today, wasn't it? It took longer than usual... Generally, the Theus removal process takes about two weeks, but in your father's case, it's been almost a month."
Veluthen explained, his voice choked with contained pain:
"He had distant relatives I didn't know about. That's why the legal procedures were extended until they could catch a flight here."
After a brief silence, he continued, revealing his deepest feelings:
"In the end, he lived the way he was meant to live. As a husband, he was exemplary; as a father, I have nothing to complain about; and even in retirement, he was the most brilliant warrior I've ever seen. Longing is inevitable, and tomorrow I might not be here anymore. Have you ever thought about that? What I want most is, when my time comes, to be surrounded by people who love me—so that when I say goodbye, I don't feel like it was all in vain."
Bridja, with a skeptical look that contrasted with Serath's seriousness, replied coldly:
"That's impossible. In the end, we all die alone. There might be exceptions, but inevitably, death is something each of us must face on our own. Wanting to cling to those you love is an illusion; everything ends, and there is no hereafter."
Serath, furrowing his brow in disagreement, retorted vehemently:
"Of course it makes a difference! You want to compare the death of someone who went down in a gang fight to someone who passes away in peace, surrounded by family? There is a distinction!"
In a detached tone, Bridja murmured:
"In the end, both go to the same place. Live how you want, but when facing death, you will always feel fear, guilt, and the wish you had lived differently. That is an immutable truth."
Veluthen, reflecting for a moment, declared with conviction:
"I don't know if there is life after death, but I prefer that at the moment of my goodbye, I carry no regrets. I want to leave a positive mark on the lives of the people I love—I don't want my sacrifice to be in vain."
After a few seconds of silence, Serath and Bridja exchanged glances, as if both were weighing the weight of the words spoken. Then Bridja, with a mix of affection and criticism, commented:
"Whether you like it or not, you've always lived in your parents' bubble. When you face the real world, you'll realize things aren't that simple. People can be cruel and rarely approach without some hidden interest. Even so, I admire your innocence—something that, over the years, has faded in me. I sincerely hope you two never lose yourselves completely."
Almost at the same time, the two friends replied in unison:
"Not me. I want to change, but that doesn't mean I'll stop talking to you guys."
Serath, returning to his playful tone, commented:
"Then it's settled: the essence remains!"
Veluthen, smiling with a glint of determination in his eyes, finished:
"I'm going to try to stay true to my essence."
Before saying goodbye, Bridja threw out one last question, full of affection and a hint of challenge:
"Do you promise that not even the Wanderers will manage to change who you are?"
Without hesitation, Veluthen returned the smile and assured her firmly:
"I promise."
Every word exchanged, every laugh, and every tease that night seemed to seal a silent pact between old friends, reaffirming that regardless of the world's changes, the essence of those who love each other is never lost.