"Why should it be different?"
The question hit harder than expected—not sharp, but weighty. Astron didn't wait for an answer. He stepped closer, his voice low and unwavering.
"You may feel talented, Ethan. And you are. You work hard, and you believe that with enough effort, you can shape the world around your own rules."
His pale violet eyes locked with Ethan's, unblinking.
"But you should start to understand this by now: no matter how strong you become, no matter how righteous your intentions—there will come a time when you feel the limits of your ideals."
Ethan stood still, frozen in place as the words settled over him like slow-falling ash.
"And when that moment comes," Astron continued, his tone quieter, colder, "it's not always you who pays the price."
He tilted his head slightly, just enough to shift the weight of his words.
"It's the ones closest to you who bleed for your convictions."
