Whatever semblence of relief Aerith had was about to be torn from him. The door slowly creaked open and in stepped his father, a gaunt man who looked like a hardened veteran warrior. His looks betrayed his build, he had a very warming smile, one Aerith deemed too warm.
"What the hell is he grinning for now?" He asked himself.
He still felt awkward standing next to the man, and how could he not? He was not actually his son, well, he might have been in body but not in mind. And for some reason he retained no memory of the previous Aerith, his mind was just a blank slate aside from his own memories.
This made Aerith feel empty and uncomfortable when this man who proclaimed himself as his father looked at him with such warmth. In his previous life he experienced nothing as such, his father died as a victim of an armed robbery. It was something he did not like to dwell on but unfortunately he was forced to at times.
Rethinking the story of his life left a bitter taste in his mouth, one he could not wash out no matter how many times he truly tried.
His father was a cop, not one of the best occupations when you want to live long. He used to be proud of his father at the time, looking back now he saw how foolish he was. He saw his father as a hero, well he did died as one but no honours were left in his name, no songs sung. Just silence, a long cold silence.
Back then he did not have much going for him except the small home the owned in the city. With his father gone the space that was once filled with warmth was now cold, it might as well have been a living grave. It was not that he did not have any relations, to the best of his knowledge he had a mother and a sister but due to a divorce they went apart with one kid in their arms.
So he never once felt a mother's warmth, or maybe he did and he just forgot what it felt like. Since then he had lived a solitary life, like a shadow, barely visible.
Now being greeted by a new father he knew nothing of, made him more insulted than elated. "Stop grinning you old fool, or I'm gonna throw up."
The witch girl who was still sitting on his bed bopped his head as if reading his thoughts. But she couldn't, right?
His father lord Altruso Zannek approached him just after shutting the door slowly, creating another Ruckus of loud creaking noise whick Aerith had come to haye so vividly. His supposed father who could not stop grinning like he had taken it as his trademark suddenly burst into tears.
Aerith groaned inwardly. "What's this all about now? I'm the one who almost died and he's the one crying."
Altruso stood right next to the bed his eyes looking grave, almost as if he was about to reveal something very dark. The witch girl was supposed to exti the room to give them privacy, Aerith thought. But he was more grateful that she stayed, he felt safer in her presence than in his own father's.
"Yeah, great. I feel much safer with a blood witch who murdered a bunch of guys like she was in an r rated horror movie than my own father. Makes sense." He told himself.
He did not want to say anything and luckily he did not have to, his father spoke up saving him from having to embarrass himself.
"Son, I never thought a day would come when you would fully recover, it fills me with great joy. But I wish it was under better circumstances. I finally had my son whole and now I am going to lose him."
Aerith's breath cut short as his mind panicked. "What the hell! I thought I was fully healed, am I going to die now?"
The next person to speak this time was the witch, she looked at him and spoke in a voice full of dread and blackness. "The tower has called you and you must answer."
"The what now? Is there something I'm missing here?" Aerith groaned once more, nothing was adding up and he needed answers.
"I don't get it." He said out loud.
Altruso continued to carry the grim air around like an architect building a high rise to which he would push him off from. "The only thing that could save one close to death is the towers call, and no one ever returns from the tower."
It was in that moment that Aerith realised that he was inbolved in something big, something everyone seemed to know and only he did not. Or maybe the old him might have known but the current him did not. Now that he thought about it deeply, everyone that had come to check up on him for the past week all wore the same similar expression. He had thought they were pitying him but they knew from the start that something was up with him.
After his father left, he stayed awake for a few hours wondering what they must have meant by "the tower calls". The only person he could ask was the witch girl and and she'd fallen asleep on his lap like a child, her breath slow and even. A strand of purple hair brushed his arm; he wondered if she'd kill him in her sleep if she knew he was grazing her jelly cheeks once more.
"What an adorable little devil you are", he said as he caressed her cheek but he could have sworn he saw her flinch for a second.
A knock sounded on the door a few minutes later, he wondered who could be bothering him that late in the night. "Come in, I guess." He said in a rather dull tone.
The door opened slowly, creaking loudly it's horrendous melody. Aerith grumbled in ugly rage. "That damned door again, I'll have it pulled down."
The person who walked in was someone he did not expect to see, well all things considered since he did not know anyone he wasn't in anyway expecting to see anyone, period. It was the young woman who had protected him during the mass riot. The slave girl.
She bowed her head as she walked in and shut the door behind him. "My apologies young lord, I came to see if you were fine."
Aerith could see nothing but loyalty in her eyes, along with her plain facial expressions she was a perfect slave. "Can I have your name?"
He could not see a slight hesitation in her eyes before she answered. "It's Nasha, young lord."
He peered deeply at her as he spoke. "Nasha it is. You know about this tower call nonsense, don't you." She locked eyes with him and give him a light nod. "Well, tell me all you know."
Nasha raised her eyes slowly. "Then you'd better be ready for what I'm about to say, young lord."