I stood by the railing of the ship, arms resting against the wooden guard as the fading amber light of dusk spilled across the endless sea. My thoughts drifted, like wisps of smoke curling over the ocean's surface, scattered and shapeless in the wind.
The echoes of this morning's conversation with Xander still clung stubbornly to my mind.
Xavier had lived under Xander's name since the day their fates diverged. Through Xander's telling, Xavier was painted as a selfish younger brother — greedy and conniving, snatching up everything that should've rightfully belonged to the elder.
But I couldn't bring myself to see it that way.
Who would willingly trade their own life for another's, especially one shackled in duty and expectation?
If Xavier truly was the child Xander described — restless, wild, enamored with freedom — then choosing to bear the name and weight of Xander Leviathan must've come with its own sacrifice.
