Morning came hesitantly, as though the sun itself mourned what had been lost. Pale light filtered through the forest canopy in scattered beams, weak and fragmented, breaking against the thin smoke that still lingered over the refugee camp.
The crackle of fires, the murmur of tired voices, and the rustle of canvas filled the air. Children stirred awake, some rubbing their swollen eyes, others sitting silently, staring into nothing. It was not the sound of life, but of survival.
Alex sat apart from the others, knees drawn tightly to his chest, arms locked around them. His small frame looked smaller still in the shadow of the tent. His eyes burned, dry and swollen. No tears came anymore he had poured them all out until nothing remained. Only silence filled the hollow space inside him.
He barely noticed Selara moving gently through the tent. The healer carried trays of bread and steaming bowls of porridge, setting them in the hands of the children with practiced care. Her smile was soft, though her own eyes were red-rimmed from sleepless nights. She crouched to whisper to each child, reminding them they were safe now, reminding them to eat.
When her gaze landed on Alex, she offered him a tender smile, the kind meant to reach into someone's grief. But Alex only lowered his head further, hiding his face behind the silver strands of his hair. The smell of porridge hurt too much it reminded him of Mara's hands stirring a pot, of warmth, of safety, of a family that would never gather again.
A heavy hand rested on his shoulder. Alex flinched, but when he looked up, it was Kaelen. The captain knelt down, setting a wooden bowl beside him. His voice was steady, deep like the earth.
"You must eat, little one. Empty stomachs cannot carry heavy hearts."
Alex stared at the bowl, at the steam rising from it. He wanted to refuse. His lips parted, but no words came. He shook his head, just once.
Kaelen studied him for a long moment. There was no anger, no disappointment, only quiet understanding. He gave a slow nod, squeezing the boy's shoulder before rising again. He left the bowl within reach.
For a time, Alex remained still, staring at the food as though it were foreign. His stomach betrayed him first. It growled, loud in the silence, reminding him he was still alive even when he wished he wasn't. Finally, with trembling hands, he drew the bowl closer.
He ate slowly, mechanically, each bite tasteless. Every spoonful was swallowed not because he wanted it, but because his body demanded it. He finished and pushed the bowl aside, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve.
The boy's eyes wandered toward the other children. Some sat in groups, whispering. A few clung to each other, weeping quietly. Others were still as stone, their gazes distant, hollow.
One girl caught his eye. She was older, maybe nine, with coppery hair braided carelessly over one shoulder. Her hazel eyes were sharp despite the grief behind them. She looked at him for a long moment before leaning to whisper to the boy beside her. Alex caught fragments "different… doesn't look like us."
The words struck deeper than they should have. His chest tightened. Slowly, almost instinctively, Alex lowered his head, letting his messy hair fall forward to hide his ears. His features were sharper than theirs, his silver-tinged hair a mark he couldn't wash away. A reminder.
A half-blood. Neither fully elf nor fully human.
Even here, among those who had also lost everything, he was still different.
He clenched his knees tighter. Don't let them see. Don't let them know. If they found out, what then? Pity? Rejection? Hatred? He had seen the way elves spoke of humans before, the way his father's union with Mara had been tolerated only because of respect for Erynder. Without his father… without Elderleaf… what protection did he have now?
The whispers stung, but Alex remained silent. He didn't look at the children again. He kept his gaze low, his body small, trying to vanish into the shadows of the tent.
The silence pressed heavier with every breath. It wasn't the silence of Elderleaf's peaceful nights, filled with crickets and soft winds. It was a suffocating silence, one that made him feel like he was shrinking, collapsing inward, disappearing piece by piece.
Then the blue light shimmered before his eyes.
[System Notification]
Emotional State Detected: Grief (Suppressed).
New Trait Unlocked: Silent Endurance.
— Mental Fortitude +1
— Charisma –1 (Temporary)
Alex blinked, startled by the glowing words. He whispered them under his breath. "Silent… Endurance?"
The System's voice responded in its calm, cold tone:
[Description: You endure pain not by speaking it, but by locking it inside. This will help you survive but isolation carries its own weight.]
His hands curled into fists. The words were too true. He didn't know how to speak his grief. The tears had run dry, the screams stuck in his throat. To survive, he could only bury it deep, wall it off, keep walking forward. But the System's warning echoed: Isolation carries its own weight.
Before he could think further, another notification appeared.
[Side Quest Unlocked: Hide in Plain Sight.]
Objective: Conceal your half-elf identity until trust is earned.
Failure: Risk of rejection, loneliness… or worse.
Reward: Stealth Affinity +2
Alex's lips trembled. His whisper was barely audible. "Even here… I have to hide…"
He pressed his forehead against his knees. The glow of the System faded, leaving only the shadows and the quiet.
"Alex?"
The soft voice startled him. He raised his head slightly. It was the auburn-haired girl the same one who had whispered. She stood a few steps away now, holding a piece of bread in her small hands. Her hazel eyes weren't sharp anymore. They were cautious, curious.
"You didn't eat much," she said quietly. "Here." She held out the bread.
Alex hesitated. He almost refused out of pride, but his body betrayed him again. He reached for it slowly, his hand brushing hers.
"…Thank you," he whispered, his voice hoarse from disuse.
The girl tilted her head, studying him. "What's your name?"
"Alex."
"I'm Neris." She gave the faintest smile. "Don't worry. The others whisper about everyone. They whispered about me too, at first. It doesn't mean anything."
Alex lowered his eyes again. Doesn't it? He wanted to believe her, but doubt gnawed at him. Still, the small kindness warmed a corner of his frozen chest.
When Neris returned to her group, Alex curled in on himself once more. The silence closed in, but this time it wasn't absolute. Somewhere within it lingered the faint echo of her voice, of the bread she had shared.
He whispered to himself, too softly for anyone else to hear. "If the world wants me hidden… then hidden I'll be. I'll carry this grief. I'll endure, until the day comes when I don't have to."
Outside the tent, Kaelen's voice rose, giving orders to soldiers. Selara hummed softly as she washed bowls. Children cried, whispered, or simply stared. The camp lived on, fragile and fractured.
And in the corner of it all, Alex sat in silence his grief locked away, his promise to his mother heavy in his chest, his future uncertain but burning faintly with the cold light of endurance.