Sylus's office was bathed in gray light.
The half-drawn curtains filtered the pale afternoon rays, and the snow continued to fall stubbornly.
Damien stood by the window, watching the snowflakes fall without saying a word. He seemed to have been searching for the right words for several minutes.
Sylus sat behind his desk, absentmindedly twirling a pen between his fingers.
"You did what you had to do, Damien finally said in a low voice.
You put an end to something that... would have destroyed you both in the end."
"You talk as if that's supposed to comfort me," replied Sylus, his gaze lost.
"It's not supposed to comfort you.
It's supposed to remind you that it was necessary."
A silence fell.
The fire crackled in the hearth, the only sound in the room.
Sylus sighed and sat up slightly.
"And yet, sometimes I wonder... if everything I've done that was "necessary"
in my life hasn't simply drained me of everything that still had meaning."
"You're talking about her," Damien said softly.
Sylus didn't answer.
"She was young, Damien whispered.
But you... you were alive with her.
That's what everyone noticed. Even me."
"And look where it got me, Sylus whispered.
Lying to my own daughter."
Damien looked down.
He didn't answer.
Then, after a moment:
"You know I won't judge you."
"No. But she will."
A bitter smile crossed his lips.
"And she'll be right."
There was a soft knock at the door.
A discreet knock, followed by a second, more hesitant one.
Sylus looked up, surprised.
"Come in," he said.
The door opened slightly, and Althea poked her head through the crack.
Her hair was still damp, and she had a shy smile on her lips.
"Dad, I just wanted to ask you...
Oh, excuse me, Mr. Blackwood,
I didn't know you were still here."
"It's all right, Damien replied with a professional smile.
I was just about to leave."
He picked up his coat, shook Sylus's hand, then turned to Althea.
"Merry Christmas, Miss Ashbourne."
"Merry Christmas," she replied politely.
When the door closed behind him, silence returned.
Althea approached slowly.
"Were you talking about me?" she asked with a smile.
"No, Sylus replied a little too quickly.
Nothing important."
"Liar," she whispered, laughing.
But the laughter quickly died away.
She looked at him more closely and frowned.
"Dad... are you okay?"
"Of course. Why?"
"I don't know. You seem... distant. Since Catarina left,
you haven't been yourself."
Sylus forced a smile, the kind he used when he wanted to hide his emotions.
"I'm just tired," he replied softly.
"Hmm... okay."
She hesitated, then added:
"Catarina hasn't replied to me since last night.
Do you think I said something I shouldn't have?"
"No. She probably just needs some time, you know...
the holidays, the stress, all that."
Althéa nodded, unconvinced.
She took a step forward and placed her hand on her father's.
"If you want me to leave you alone for a while, I can go see a movie."
"Go, he whispered. Enjoy your day."
She gave him one last look, then left the room.
When the door closed, Sylus was alone.
His fingers were still trembling where she had touched him.
And Damien's voice still echoed in his head:
"You did what you had to do."
But for the first time in a long time, he wasn't so sure anymore.