The crowd had slowly cleared, leaving a heavy silence behind me.
Albus had turned to go but stopped for a moment, his eyes still fixed on me, as if measuring whether my words were just a passing whim.
I clenched my fists.
— Patriarch, please hear me… before you make me your disciple, I have one last favor to ask.
— There's having guts and then there's just wanting to get yourself killed, Iron, I thought everything was fine with you… Pedro whispered in my ear.
The noise picked back up and most of the people still around exchanged disbelieving looks.
I spoke again, my voice low and steady:
— I'd like to go back to my hometown. The place where I grew up, to be exact.
A wild pressure cracked the floor around me and almost brought me to my knees when Albus turned toward me. I understood I might have pushed it too far. Some were already smiling, ready to mock what seemed like a sentimental whim, but I made my second request.
— It's not a whim, and it's not nostalgia. But because I need to see. I need to know… if something can still be saved there.
I felt my throat tighten. Images of my mother rose up without warning. Her contemptuous gaze filled with hatred, her cruel words buried inside me like poison, but also that unchangeable bond, impossible to destroy. The bond that had shaped me as much as it had broken me.
Simon, almost invisible until now, stepped forward. He observed me in silence with that same sorry look, but he seemed to understand far more than I gave him credit for.
— Are you sure that's what you want? There's nothing good waiting for you there, he said.
Then it was Albus who settled it.
— You want to face your past before building your future… one could call that admirable.
He closed his eyes for a second.
— Fine. You can go. But know one thing, Iron: life is too short to spend regretting everything you didn't have the courage to try.
— Thank you so much, I said, bowing my head in respect.
The hours passed, and the night had finally swallowed Castrum Velathor.
The estate had fallen asleep. Only the hurried steps of servants could be heard. There were only three of us left.
Pedro, Bruno, and I sat out on the terrace overlooking all of Castrum Velathor, a bottle of wine swiped from Helena's rooms while she was away, and three cube-shaped glasses set between us.
The silence stretched for a long time. We were simply there, savoring the rich taste of the wine, a balanced blend that seemed to tell its own story. Then Pedro broke the spell.
— So, little brother, you're leaving tomorrow to dig up your old demons then?
— I have to. It's the only way I can move forward with a clearer head, I told him calmly.
Bruno swirled his glass, leaning against the railing, and turned his one eye toward me.
— And you're not scared? You know, the present changes us for sure, but the past always looks at us the same way. It can't see the future we're trying to build. It only sees us and our chains.
I took a few seconds to answer. There was truth in what he said.
— Yes and no. I'm scared of facing the people from my past. But at the same time, I've lived through so much and met such incredible people that, whatever happens, my chains from the past won't guide my present or my future anymore.
Pedro shook his head with a smile, but his features quickly darkened.
He raised his glass, stared at it for a second, then sighed.
— You know, honestly, before Simon… before all of this… we were just ordinary kids with no idea what a Thorn even was, just like you. We were nothing, like most people here, actually.
Bruno slowly nodded.
Pedro went on:
— Bruno and I already knew each other. We were street rats from the same city, stray dogs with no real goal except to survive. We shared what we stole, we fought and took hits together, and yeah, we even went hungry together. That's how it all started for us.
Pedro picked up the story.
— You know, Iron… I had a brother back then. He'd be your age today, hehehe… We were coming back to our grim hideout in Shyra-Mon with empty stomachs one night, just like any other, when some ugly guy came out of an alley with a really long knife, you can't even imagine. He wanted to rob us, which is pretty stupid given we had nothing, but anyway. I thought I was tough because I could beat up most of the lowlifes in the neighborhood, so I told myself I could protect him. A knife, what's a knife ?
As he told the story, Pedro played with the necklace around his neck, his hands trembling. I had never seen him so vulnerable since I'd known him.
— I took some serious hits, he was bigger than I thought. He was after my gold chain, the one I always wear. It was my only treasure, the only thing left from our late father. When I opened my eyes again, my brother… I thought he'd gotten hit and collapsed against me. But no. That stubborn kid had decided to stay and protect me instead of running.
— Can you imagine the little one protecting the big one… what a rotten joke that was…
Pedro wiped his eyes with rage.
— Alone in that alley with the lifeless body of my only little brother, I swore that day before every god that I would never again let anyone I care about die, even if it kills me.
Bruno put his hand on Pedro's shoulder, his face heavy with a story he knew all too well. But his voice was rough, deep.
— It was some time after that event that I met Pedro. Back then we weren't that close, we'd help each other out here and there.
He raised his head, his single eye fixed on me.
— We were barely twelve at the time. A gang of idiots who kept attacking Pedro wanted to make him pay once and for all because they caught him messing around with one of their member's girlfriend. I saw the knife going toward him. I didn't think I took the hit for him, and then we beat the hell out of all of them.
They laughed together remembering it, like two old partners in crime.
— That day I lost an eye but I gained a brother.
Pedro dropped his head, covering his eyes with his hands but still letting the tears slip through.
— Getting sentimental now too, huh Bruno, hehehe…
— Mind your own business and dry your own tears, Mister "Golden Boy"…
Bruno added:
— So when Simon found us, we were already bonded not by blood, but by pain, by survival. And trust me, that's stronger than anything blood can give you.
I stayed silent, unable to find the words.
I looked at them these two giants, barely two years older than me, but marked by the same devoured childhood.
I understood that what made them so strong was exactly that: this unbreakable loyalty, forged in blood and tears.
— You two have come a long way, guys. I'm in awe. But if we'd known each other back then, I wouldn't have been much use to you, hahaha.
Pedro chuckled softly, and we stayed out on that terrace for a long time drinking, laughing in bursts, talking about our scars like proof of our existence. The bottle was almost empty. We didn't have much left to say, and yet none of us wanted to leave that terrace. It was as if we all knew, without saying it, that this moment might not have a tomorrow.
— You know, Iron, we're telling you all this so you understand that we understand you. And that you'll always have two brothers behind you, ready to do anything to protect you, even when you can't see them.
He gave me a genuine pat on the shoulder.
Then he looked away, as if embarrassed by being too serious. Bruno stood up, his one eye gleaming in the shadow.
— I hope you find the peace you're looking for once you get there. And hold on, because surviving isn't enough. Learn to live too, Iron. Even when it hurts. Especially when it hurts.
Pedro stood up as well.
— Alright… we should sleep. Tomorrow you've got a crappy trip to make, and we've got training to get back to for the tournament, can't let you have all the fun.
— Sounds good. I'll stay a little longer, then go sleep.
They disappeared into the hallways, leaving me alone under the glowing moon.
Once in my room, I lay awake for a long time before sleep finally welcomed me.
It goes without saying and I say it today with deep regret, that I was in the middle of making the worst mistake of my entire life…