Months passed in the comfortable, golden cage of Lord Alaric and Lady Elara's manor. Elias grew, not just in stature, but in intellect. He absorbed everything, his keen mind observing the nuances of this new world. The raw, desperate urge to end his life still simmered, a quiet but persistent fire beneath his calm exterior. He remembered Deus's smug laughter, the taunt of impossibility. He would find a loophole, a way to defy the arrogant deity. For now, he continued to play the role of the cherished, content young nobleman, all while his eyes sought out any anomaly, any weakness in the fabric of this existence.
One sweltering summer afternoon, the family gathered in a shaded open-air hut near the estate's sprawling gardens. Lady Elara was enjoying a cool beverage, her laughter echoing softly as Lord Alaric recounted a humorous anecdote from his day. Elias, then just a toddler, sat quietly, observing the scene, his outward tranquility masking the calculating mind within. A young servant girl, perhaps in her late teens,one of their maids, approached with a tray of fresh fruits. As she leaned to place a bowl on the low table, her hand slipped, and a small, ornate fruit knife clattered.
Before anyone could react, a gasp escaped her lips. A thin, red line welled up on her palm where the blade had sliced as she attempted to catch it before it fell.
The girl winced, her eyes wide with pain and fear, clearly worried about having marred the peaceful afternoon.
Lady Elara, ever gracious, immediately reached out.
"Oh, my dear! Are you alright?" Before the servant could even answer, Lady Elara's hand, delicate and graceful, hovered over the girl's injured thumb. A soft, ethereal glow, like captured moonlight, emanated from her palm. Elias watched, mesmerized. The red wound, which moments ago had been bleeding, visibly knitted itself together. The skin smoothed, the cut vanished, leaving no trace, no scar. It was as if the injury had never been.
"There, there," Lady Elara murmured gently, her voice soothing.
"It's quite alright. No harm done." The servant stared at her perfectly healed thumb, then at Lady Elara, her eyes filled with awe and gratitude.
Elias felt a jolt, a profound tremor of intrigue that shook his carefully maintained composure.
Magic?
This wasn't merely a trick of light or a skilled physician. This was something entirely beyond the world he remembered. He had never seen anything like it. His mind, usually focused on escape, suddenly opened to a new, thrilling possibility. What was this power? How did it work?
A plan, nebulous yet potent, began to form. If magic could heal, could it also destroy? Could it be twisted, manipulated to affect the soul, to bypass Deus's failsafe? The thought was a dangerous whisper, a forbidden hope. He looked at his mother, then at his own tiny hands. The key, he realized with a surge of dark excitement, might just lie within this very world. He wouldn't try to end his life immediately. Instead, he would study. He would learn. This strange, alluring force might just be the means to actually ending his existence and, more importantly, to finally confront that smug god again.