The deed was done; the light that was stolen from many was put to rest.
They hear whimpering.
From behind a broken crate, a boy crouches and is shielding a girl, presumably his little sister, most likely. No older than eight and nine, both are chained, their faces pale with terror, trembling and filthy with soot and blood. Their eyes are wide and hollow, the light long extinguished.
Roy steps forwards towards them.
But before he can utter a word –
The boy lunges and drives a jagged shard into Roy's gut.
The shard sinks into his abdomen. The boy screams, but Roy doesn't cry out. The boy yells, his voice cracking in desperation, "You ruined everything! He promised us freedom! He said he was going to let us go… let me and my sister leave!"
The figures around them surge forward at once, but Roy throws out a hand, commanding them to silently stay back. Blood drips from the wound, but Roy doesn't flinch. His eyes meet the boy's, blood pooling beneath him, steady, unwavering. But Roy doesn't waver.
He grips the shard embedded in his body, then slowly, deliberately pulls it out. Crimson stains his coat, his breath is uneven, but his gaze is calm.
He kneels to meet the boy's eye level, his voice rough and honest.
Then He speaks, voice calm despite the ringing pain.
"You have a cruel life ahead of you. Stabbing me won't change that. The man who claimed he would let you go was lying; he wanted to see the look of shock on your face when he told you he wouldn't. It won't bring your parents back. It won't undo the hell you've lived through."
"But if you want to change that… If you want to protect your sister, to never be this powerless again, then listen to me."
He leans in close, lowering his voice.
"All you need is the will to choose. Not vengeance. Not blind hope. Choice. That's how you take your life back."
The boy's lips quiver, confusion and guilt creeping in. But Roy doesn't stop.
"What happened to you? What brought you here? It wasn't your fault. It was never in your control."
"Life is cruel. Ugly. It tears things away before you even know what they mean to you. But…" He coughs, blood dripping from his lips, but he forces himself to stand.
"Life's like a coin. Straightforward, cold and unforgiving. But unless you spin it, really spin it, you'll never see the other side. You'll never know what joy feels like. You'll never know what it means to live instead of surviving."
He extends his bloodied hand to the children. "So what do you say?"
"Do you want to flip your coin?"
For a moment of silence.
The boy stares at Roy's outstretched hand, his breath hollow. His fingers twitch, but he doesn't move. Doubt coils in his chest, fear weighing him down. He looks like he's about to pull away…
Then, the little girl clutches her brother tighter; he looks down and sees her eyes flicker, not with fear but with faint, fragile hope.
That warmth spreads through the boy's chest like a dying ember flaring back to life. His trembling fingers slowly rise… until they find Roy's hand.
He takes it.
And in that moment, something shifts, something unseen.
Roy turned slightly, blood still trailing from his coat, and called out, "Ilya."
One of the eight stepped forward. A young Black woman, in her early twenties, with gentle eyes and a calm presence that made her stand out among the others. There was kindness in her face, the sort that immediately put people at ease.
"Please take these two to our hideout," Roy said, his voice soft but firm. "Care for them, would you?"
Ilya bowed slightly. "Yes, my liege."
She stepped toward the children, kneeling so she could meet them at eye level. Her hand extended, warm and steady. The little girl took it first, her grip tight. The boy hesitated for just a second before following. Ilya rose and began to lead them away, her touch protective and light.
The two children glanced back at Roy with wide, uncertain eyes.
His gaze followed them until they left his sight. He turned back to face Kieran.
"Ok, that wasn't necessary, now was it? The coughing up blood and acting weak part?" Kieran commented.
Roy replied with a simple answer, "I thought it was going to be memorable for them."
Kieran, slightly annoyed by that answer due to the stupidity, just skipped over his response.
"You should get healed by Lys," Kieran said, brow furrowed with annoyance. "That's a pretty nasty one the little guy did on you."
"Nah, it's okay," Roy muttered, raising a hand up to his wound. A soft light shimmered briefly beneath his palm, then just like that, the blood vanished, the skin sealing itself shut without a trace.
Kieran blinked.
"Ahh… so that's how you did it." His eyes narrowed slightly in recognition. "That's the same way you healed me. Back then… when I was just a dumb kid."
Roy didn't answer. He just gave Kieran a small, knowing smirk before walking ahead and telling the group to disband for today.
Back at school, the world felt too bright and too normal, like a dream that didn't know it had just been interrupted by a nightmare.
The four of sat in maths class, the only subject all of them take and are in the same class in.
They were barely pretending to listen to the teacher who was rambling on a topic that is not going to be on their test.
Brock started to say something to the group.
"Future school life," Brock said, adjusting his glasses with a dramatic pose. "The Tournament of Richt, work placement, the leavers festival and finally the year-end trip… it all sounds nice, but it is so basic."
"Don't forget the career fair," Roy added, tapping his pencil against the desk. "Where we get told we'll never make it in the real world unless we become accountants."
"I'm already dying just from hearing this," Tanaka groans, face down on his desk. "And there's not even a residential trip to look forward to."
"No girls either," Kieran noted. "The curse of the all-boys school."
"There's a girls' school literally one street over," Brock said. "It's not like they live in another dimension."
"Feels like they do, though," Tanaka replied without lifting his head. "Most of us get here by train, and the route doesn't go anywhere near it. We might as well be in a different timeline."
"Man," Kieran said, leaning back in his chair, "What's the point of living if we can't even have accidental hallway meetings with cuties?"
Roy smirked. "Yoo, chill out, gang."
The bell rang, and their teacher said, "You have homework due in for the next lesson; you can now pack up now."
The whole class moans.
They all stood slowly, like men sentenced to a second round of maths, and yet, somehow, this boredom was comforting, almost like a safe zone between the chaos that lurked beneath the surface of their lives.