Cain didn't move. He remained standing at the door, hand on his sword hilt, as if entering the room meant entering hostile territory.Which, in truth, it did.Felix sat on the edge of the bed, placing his feet on the cold floor. He wore nothing but a white nightshirt—the clothes of "the patient," "the weak," "the shame." But now, even this simple garment looked different. As if his new body—this body built by the Abyss—carried the same clothes differently."You're wearing your sword," Felix said, his voice calm as frozen surface. "You didn't do that before. Previously, you would come to remind me of my weakness. You would wear your formal attire, appear as the "perfect heir," speak loudly so the servants could hear."He raised his eyes—brown eyes now, but Cain noticed something strange. As if there was a faint red spot in their depths, fading slowly."Now," Felix continued, "you come in combat clothes. You place your hand on your sword. You stop at the door. What do you fear, Cain?"Long silence. Then:"Maria told me..." Cain began, his voice lower than usual. "She said you... changed. That your eyes were...""Crimson?" Felix completed for him. "Yes. They were. Now they're not. Is that what concerns you? The color of my eyes?"Cain took one step forward. A cautious step."The family physician died three years ago," he said. "The man who cared for you. He said you would never wake up. That your mind... melted. Then you wake up today, speak with confidence, look at me with a gaze I don't know, and kill an assassin with..."He stopped. Didn't finish."With what?" Felix asked, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Magic? I have no magic, Cain. You know that. Everyone knows. "Felix Valcrown"—the son born without sufficient magical core. The shame that must be hidden."He stood slowly. His movement was smooth, without nervousness. Previously, he moved with tension, fearing collision with something. Now, every movement was calculated, conscious, dangerous."But let me guess," Felix took a step toward Cain. "Father sent you to see if I'm "possessed." If I'm a monster wearing my son's face. And if I am..." He looked at the sword. "If I am, then you're here to "free me," aren't you?"Cain didn't answer. But his hand tightened on the hilt."Or..." Felix took another step. Now the distance between them was only three meters. "Or perhaps Father doesn't know. Perhaps you came on your own. Because you feel it, don't you?""Feel what?" Cain's voice was dry."Fear."The word fell like a stone in still water."You feel it now," Felix whispered. "That prick in your chest. That desire to leave the room. You wear your sword because you want to feel safe, but you know—know—that it won't help you."Cain drew the sword.Not to attack. But with a defensive, automatic movement. The steel rang sharply in the cold air."Stop," Cain said, his voice trembling despite himself. "Don't come closer."Felix stopped. He looked at the sword—a family blade, "Dawn Hunter," a inherited weapon carrying powerful enchantments. Previously, Cain would boast about it. He would say he would inherit it someday, when he became family head."Beautiful," Felix said quietly. "You've drawn it. Now what will you do?""I will test you," Cain said, seeming to find his confidence again. "If you're truly Felix, you'll know this sword. You'll know you cannot face it. And if you're... something else, then I'll know.""How?""Because the "thing" wearing my brother's face will try to kill me. And I'll see its true power."Felix smiled. A genuine smile this time, carrying both sadness and amusement."You want to know if I'm dangerous," he said. "But you fear discovering that I'm too dangerous. This... is an interesting psychological complex."He extended his hand—that white hand with black lines—toward the sword."Attack me," he said."What?""Attack me. Use your magic. You're at sixth rank—Count—and I... well, let's say I'm "rankless." If you truly think I'm possessed, test me. Strike with all your power."Cain hesitated. This wasn't planned. He expected... what? Defense? Pleading? Escape?But Felix stood there, hand extended, chest open, as if challenging a god."Or..." Felix said, his voice dropping to a frightening whisper, "do you fear discovering that I'm stronger than you?"The challenge struck like lightning.Cain attacked.Not with full power—he wasn't stupid—but with a real attack. Valcrown magic, lineage of fire and light, merged into the sword. The steel ignited with white flame, burning, killing.The strike was toward the shoulder, not the heart. Cain didn't want to kill, only incapacitate.But Felix moved.Not with speed—he was actually slow compared to the magic. But he moved... correctly. He bent at a precise angle, let the sword pass a centimeter from his skin, and in that moment—that moment when the sword was close—he touched it.He didn't strike. He didn't push. Just touched.The Cursed Hand.The white flame vanished. Not slowly, but instantly. As if someone blew out the candle. The sword returned to ordinary steel, cold, magic-less.And Cain... Cain felt it. A feeling he never knew before. As if something was removed from him. As if part of his existence—that part connecting him to magic, to family, to identity—stopped for a moment.He retreated violently, sword trembling in his hand."What... what did you do?"Felix looked at his fingers. At those black lines that had flared for a moment, then calmed."I did nothing," he said. "You did. You attacked me. I just... removed the veil.""Removed... my magic?""For a moment." Felix advanced, and Cain retreated until his back touched the door. "This is what I am, Cain. Not possessed. Not a monster. Just... someone who learned something in his slumber.""What... what is this thing?"Felix stopped. He looked at his brother—this brother who climbed over him, who mocked him, who perhaps hated him. But he also saw something else. He saw the boy trying to please a harsh father. He saw the pressure, expectations, fear."I learned," he said quietly, "that magic isn't everything. That true power comes from... somewhere else.""Where?"Felix smiled. "From the Abyss. From the place everyone calls "hell." I lived there for three hundred years, Cain. Three hundred years of killing or being killed. Three hundred years learning that weakness is the only choice of the strong.""That's... impossible.""Is it?" He extended his hand again. "Touch your sword. Try to summon magic."Cain looked at the sword. At his hand. Then—slowly—he tried.The flame didn't come."You..." his voice trembled. "You took my magic?""Took it? No." Felix shook his head. "I just showed you that it isn't you. That you—without it—are just human. As I was. As we all were."He withdrew his hand. And in that moment, the magic returned. The white flame ignited again, but Cain—for the first time—looked at it as if it were strange. As if it weren't part of him, but a tool he carried."Why..." Cain began, then stopped. He asked another question: "Why didn't you kill me?"Felix laughed. A short laugh, devoid of happiness."Because you wouldn't have killed me. Because—despite everything—you're my brother. And because I..." He looked at the window, at the outside world, "Because I need you.""Need me?""The Academy," Felix said. "Seven days. I will enter, but I don't know what changed there. You—the perfect heir—know everything. The teachers, students, factions, secrets."He turned to look directly at Cain."Help me, and I'll help you.""How?""You fear something," Felix said. "I see it in your eyes. Not of me—not just of me. You fear "inheritance." Being family head. Failing."Cain's silence confirmed the truth."I can teach you," Felix said. "That power isn't in magic. That leadership isn't in blood. That being a leader means..." He looked at the sword in Cain's hand, "Knowing when not to use the sword."Slowly, Cain extended the sword. Not to attack. Just extended it, as an offer, as surrender."You're different," he said. "Not the Felix I know.""True.""I'm not sure if you're better or worse.""Let's discover together."Felix took the sword. Looked at it—at this sword that symbolized everything he didn't have. Then returned it to Cain."Keep it," he said. "But remember: the sword isn't you. You make the sword."He turned toward the window. Toward that world he knew and didn't know."Now," he said, "tell Father his son has returned. That he's not possessed. That he... changed. But he's still Valcrown.""What about the assassin?" Cain asked. "The one in the corner?""Tell him he's from "The Ear." And that they're interested in me." He smiled. "This will worry him. And make him think. And in the world of nobles, thinking is more dangerous than the sword."Cain left. Slowly, cautiously, as if leaving a lion's cage.But before closing the door, he said:"Felix.""Yes?""Your eyes... were they truly crimson?"Felix turned. Smiled. And his eyes—for a moment—acquired a faint crimson hue, like diluted blood, before returning to brown."Always," he said. "Even when they appear brown."Cain left. And closed the door.Felix stood alone. Looked at his hands. At those black lines that were moving now, forming a new message:"The Eye watches. The brother will betray. Trust is poison."He froze.Then smiled."Well," he whispered to the shadows. "Let's see who betrays first."
