Nathaniel found him in the garden at midnight, kneeling beside the rose bushes where his own grave lay hidden.
"You're not sleeping," Nathaniel said softly, settling down beside his brother with the careful movements of someone still healing from major surgery. "Do you... do you even need to sleep anymore?"
Elias looked up from the patch of disturbed earth, his face pale in the moonlight. The crimson robe had been replaced by simple clothes—jeans and a t-shirt that had once been his favorites. But even in mundane clothing, he seemed otherworldly, as if he existed slightly out of phase with reality.
"I don't know," he admitted. "I don't know what I need anymore. The rules are... different now."
[BROTHERLY BONDING: DETECTED. EXPECTATION LEVEL: MODERATE. CURRENT RATING: 78/100. PERFORMANCE NOTES: SUBJECT DEMONSTRATES HUMANIZING VULNERABILITY.]
They sat in comfortable silence for a while, two brothers separated by death and resurrection, connected by bonds that transcended the physical world. The garden around them was peaceful, domestic—a sharp contrast to the chaos that had consumed their family home.
"I remember when Mom planted these roses," Nathaniel said finally. "You helped her. You were maybe seven, and you kept trying to eat the fertilizer because you thought it was chocolate."
A ghost of a smile crossed Elias's face. "She was so patient with me. Even when I accidentally crushed half the bulbs."
"She loves you," Nathaniel said firmly. "Whatever's happening to her now, whatever she said in the kitchen—she loves you. We all do."
[CURRENT RATING: 82/100. EMOTIONAL AUTHENTICITY: RISING. AUDIENCE ENGAGEMENT: STABILIZING.]
"Even after what I've become?" Elias asked. "Even after what I've done to her?"
"You haven't done anything," Nathaniel replied. "You came back. That's not a crime."
"Isn't it?" Elias turned to face his brother, his eyes reflecting the strange light that seemed to follow him everywhere. "I came back wrong, Nathaniel. I came back with knowledge I shouldn't have, abilities I don't understand, and a hunger that can never be satisfied."
"What kind of hunger?"
Elias was quiet for a long moment, struggling with how to explain something that defied explanation. "Attention," he said finally. "Approval. The knowledge that I'm being watched, judged, rated. It's like... like being addicted to applause."
[CURRENT RATING: 85/100. SYSTEM EXPOSITION: EFFECTIVE. PERFORMANCE NOTES: SUBJECT SUCCESSFULLY EXPLAINS SUPERNATURAL MECHANICS.]
"Is that why you're so different? Why you talk like you're on stage all the time?"
"I am on stage all the time," Elias said. "We all are. The whole world is a stage, and we're all just performers trying to keep the Audience entertained."
He gestured to the empty air around them, and Nathaniel had the unsettling feeling that they were not alone in the garden.
"But you're not performing right now," Nathaniel observed. "You're just... you."
[CURRENT RATING: 87/100. BROTHER'S PERCEPTION: ACCURATE. EXPECTATION LEVEL: RISING.]
"Because you're the only one who sees me as human," Elias said. "Mom sees a demon. Dad sees a mistake. But you... you still see your brother."
"Because you are my brother," Nathaniel said fiercely. "Death doesn't change that. Whatever brought you back, whatever you've become—you're still Elias. You're still the person who taught me to ride a bike, who helped me with homework, who held me when I was scared."
[CURRENT RATING: 91/100. BROTHERLY DEVOTION: OPTIMAL. AUDIENCE ENGAGEMENT: SUSTAINED.]
"You're the only reason I'm still sane," Elias whispered. "The only reason I'm fighting to stay human instead of becoming whatever they want me to be."
"They?"
"The ones who watch. The ones who judge. The ones who decide whether I exist or not." He looked at Nathaniel with desperate intensity. "Promise me something."
"Anything."
"If I start to lose myself—if I become something that would hurt you or anyone else—promise me you'll find a way to stop me."
[CURRENT RATING: 94/100. SACRIFICIAL BROTHERHOOD: DETECTED. EXPECTATION LEVEL: PEAK.]
Nathaniel shook his head. "I won't promise that. Because you won't become that. You're stronger than whatever's trying to control you."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because I know you," Nathaniel said simply. "I know your heart."
The words hung in the air between them, and Elias felt something shift in his chest—not the borrowed organ that kept his body alive, but something deeper. The part of him that had always been devoted to his younger brother, that had loved him without reservation or condition.
[CURRENT RATING: 97/100. EMOTIONAL RESONANCE: MAXIMUM. PERFORMANCE NOTES: SUBJECT DEMONSTRATES COMPELLING FAMILIAL BONDS.]
"My heart," Elias said softly. "You know my heart."
"I should," Nathaniel replied with a small smile. "I'm wearing it."
They both laughed, and for a moment, the garden felt normal again. Two brothers sharing a dark joke, connected by love and loss and the strange alchemy of family.
"I dream about you sometimes," Nathaniel said. "Not nightmares—good dreams. Dreams where we're kids again, playing in the backyard, building forts out of cardboard boxes."
"I dream about you too," Elias admitted. "But in my dreams, you're always dying. And I'm always too late to save you."
"But you did save me," Nathaniel said. "In the most literal way possible."
[CURRENT RATING: 99/100. EXPECTATION LEVEL: SUSTAINED. PERFORMANCE NOTES: SUBJECT MAINTAINS PERFECT EMOTIONAL BALANCE.]
"I saved you," Elias repeated. "But I couldn't save myself."
"Maybe that's the point," Nathaniel said. "Maybe salvation isn't about saving yourself. Maybe it's about saving the people you love."
He reached out and took Elias's hand, not flinching at the unnatural coolness of his skin. "You saved me. And now I'm going to save you."
"How?"
"By never giving up on you. By never letting you forget who you really are. By being the anchor that keeps you human."
[CURRENT RATING: 100/100. BROTHERLY SALVATION: ACHIEVED. EXPECTATION LEVEL: MAXIMUM.]
Elias squeezed his brother's hand, feeling the steady pulse of his own heart beating in Nathaniel's chest. The Audience's approval washed over him like a tide, but for once, it felt secondary to the genuine connection he shared with the person who mattered most.
"I love you," he said simply.
"I love you too," Nathaniel replied. "Always."
Above them, the stars wheeled in patterns that seemed almost like applause, and the roses bloomed in the darkness, their petals the color of blood and memory.