November 9th, 2008
Rain tapped softly against the windows of Azzurro
Manor. The sound had always been comforting to Alessandro Azzurro. Tonight, it
wasn't.
Tonight, it only made the silence inside the room feel
heavier. Across from him, a doctor carefully folded a stack of papers and
placed them back into his briefcase.
The older man looked exhausted. More than that, he
looked defeated.
Alessandro hated that look.
Beside him, Vittoria sat rigidly in her hair. Her
hands were clasped so tightly together her knuckles had turned white.
Neither of them spoke. Neither wanted to be the first.
Finally, the doctor sighed. "I wish I had better news."
The word settled over the room like a funeral shroud.
Alessandro stared at the documents spread across the desk.
Charts. Scans and medical reports. He'd spent the last
hour looking at them and understood almost none of it. Only the conclusion
mattered.
Only the one sentence that refused to leave his head.
Their son was dying. The doctor hesitated before continuing.
"The defect is severe. We've consulted every
specialist available to us." Vittoria's voice was barely audible.
"And?" the doctor's expression softened.
"There are procedures we can attempt. Treatments.
Monitoring." Alessandro looked up.
"But?" the room fell silent. The silent told him
everything. The doctor lowered his gaze.
"We don't know if he'll survive the winter." For a
moment Alessandro heard nothing. The rain vanished. The room vanished, even the
doctor vanished.
There was only that sentence. A sentence that made no
sense. Because two weeks ago, his son had been born.
Two weeks ago, he had held Rocco for the first time.
Two weeks ago, everything had been perfect.
Now someone was telling him his child might not live
long enough to celebrate his first birthday. It felt impossible.
Beside him, Vittoria slowly closed her eyes. A single
tear escaped before she wiped it away. The doctor stood.
"I am truly sorry." Alessandro didn't answer. The old
man gathered his things and left.
The door clicked shut behind him. The silence
returned. Neither of them moved. Neither of them spoke. Then from upstairs came
the faint sound of a baby crying.
Vittoria was out of her chair instantly. The movement
was automatic. Instinctive. A mother's response.
She paused at the doorway and looked back. For a
moment Alessandro saw something fragile in her eyes.
Fear. Not for herself but for their son. Then she
disappeared upstairs, leaving Alessandro alone.
The nursery was warm. Soft lamplight illuminated the
room. Vittoria sat in a rocking chair with Rocco cradled against her chest.
The baby had stopped crying. His tiny hand rested
against her shoulder. Completely unaware of the storm surrounding him.
Alessandro stood in the doorway. Watching. His chest
tightened. Rocco looked so small. Too small. The future heir of house Azzurro.
The boy was supposed to grow up running through the
estate. He was supposed to drive Seraphina insane with endless questions. He
was supposed to inherit everything Alessandro had spent years building.
Instead, doctors were discussing how much time he
might have left. It wasn't fair. Vittoria looked up.
"You should hold him." Alessandro hesitated. Then
crossed the room. Carefully taking the child into his arms.
The moment he did, something inside him broke. Rocco
yawned. A tiny, sleepy sound. His little fingers wrapped around Alessandro's
thumb. Trusting him completely. Depending on him completely.
Alessandro swallowed hard. "I'm supposed to protect
you." The words slipped out before he could stop them. Vittoria looked away.
Neither of them had an answer. The following days
passed in a blur. More doctors, consultants, tests and disappointment. Every
answer led to the same conclusion.
No certainty. No cure. No guarantee. Alessandro found
himself spending longer hours in the manor library. Searching through old
records.
Ancient journals. Anything. House of Azzurro's
archives stretched back centuries. If there was an answer hidden somewhere, he
intended to find it.
The problem was that most of the journals seemed
completely unrelated. Old accounts of tears. Records of hunters. Observations
about seals.
References to beings whose names had long since been
forgotten. One name appeared more than any other.
Valen Caelum.
Alessandro frowned as he turned another page. Again.
Valen.
Another journal. Valen.
Another. Valen.
It was strange. The records never described him the
same way twice. One called him a guardian. Another called him a prisoner.
Another referred to him as a necessity.
And one simply warned; trust him, but never seek him.
Alessandro stared at the line. That was ridiculous.
How could someone be trusted but never approached?
The contradiction irritated him. The more he read, the
more questions he had. And the more desperate he became.
Three weeks later, Seraphina arrived. She found her
brother exactly where she'd expected. Buried beneath stacks of journals. Dark
circles under his eyes.
Several days overdue for proper sleep.
"You're becoming impossible." Alessandro glanced up.
"Hello to you too, sister." She dropped into the chair
across from him. Her eyes immediately landed on the open journal.
The moment she saw the name on the page, her
expression changed. "Absolutely not." Alessandro sighed.
"You haven't even heard me yet."
"I don't need to." Her voice was dangerously sharp.
"You're thinking about him."
Alessandro leaned back. "Rocco is getting worse."
"I know."
"I've exhausted every other option."
"Then find another."
"There isn't another." The words came out harder than
intended. The room fell silent. Seraphina stared at him. Then at the journals.
Then back at him.
Realization settled across her face. "You've already
decided." Alessandro didn't answer. That was answer enough.
Seraphina stood abruptly. "No."
"Sera-"
"No!" she pointed at the journals. "Do you remember
what Father taught us?"
"Yes."
"Then why are we even having this conversation?"
Alessandro's patience finally snapped.
"Because Father never watched his child die." The word
hit their mark.
Seraphina froze. For a moment guilt flashed across his
face. But neither of them backed down. Not now. Not after weeks of fear and
frustration.
"You don't understand what you're risking."
"Then explain it."
"I can't." that only made him angrier.
"You can't, or you won't?" Seraphina looked away.
Because the truth was, she didn't know. The journals or their father had never
explained why Valen was dangerous.
Only that he was. Only that the seal existed for a
reason. Only that generations of Azzurros had obeyed the same rule.
Never seek him or call him. Never invite him into your
life. And now her brother was preparing to ignore centuries of warnings. All
for a chance.
A chance that might not even work.
"Ali…" her voice softened. Just slightly. "Please."
For the first time, Alessandro looked tired. Not angry
ot stubborn, just exhausted.
"I'm running out of time." The words shattered the
argument. Seraphina knew they were true. Every day Rocco's condition worsened.
Every day the fear grew. Hope became harder to find.
Still… she couldn't accept this. Couldn't support it.
Couldn't watch it happen.
"If you do this…" her voice trembled. "…don't ask me
to be part of it."
Silence. Alessandro said nothing. That hurt more than
any argument. Seraphina swallowed. Then turned and walked away.
The library doors slammed shut behind her. Neither
sibling realized it would be years before they spoke again.
And by then…
It would already be too late.