Seven days had passed since Shiro had heard from Sil.
The early morning sunlight slipped quietly through the bedroom window, painting muted patterns across the floorboards. Jade stood silently in the doorway, her long French braid draped casually over one shoulder, her usually bright face touched now with quiet concern. Her fingertips danced gently over her stomach, soothing and rhythmic, a private language shared only between mother and unborn child.
Vorden knelt slowly, carefully, placing a gentle kiss upon the gentle curve of her belly. His lips lingered warmly as he whispered softly, more breath than voice, his words meant for tiny ears nestled safely inside. Rising, he met Jade's eyes, deep wells of understanding, worry, and unwavering trust. He cupped her face tenderly, thumbs brushing softly against her cheeks, memorizing her warmth.
"I'll be as quick as I can," he promised, his voice low and earnest.
Jade nodded softly, her eyes shimmering gently. "I understand, love," she murmured, her voice calm despite the hidden fear behind her brave expression. "Sil is family. I just hope everything goes well. Keep me posted."
He nodded solemnly, drawing her close and kissing her deeply, slowly, lingering there in the shared warmth of a moment that seemed suspended in time. Then, reluctantly, he turned, scooped their son, Borden, into his arms and hugged him fiercely. The boy, his eyes wide and shimmering, clung tightly to his father's shoulders.
"When will you be back?" His voice trembled quietly, muffled against Vorden's shoulder.
Vorden closed his eyes for a brief moment, breathing in deeply. "As soon as I can, little warrior, I promise." Setting the boy gently down, he ruffled his hair softly. "Until then, look after your mother, alright?"
"I will," Borden whispered bravely, though tears lingered unshed in his young eyes.
Vorden smiled softly, warmth radiating from his gaze even as his heart clenched painfully. He turned then, footsteps echoing quietly as he stepped out to board the waiting vessel, the sleek craft humming quietly beneath him as it lifted smoothly from the ground.
The journey to the Blade complex was a blur, his thoughts consumed by tangled uncertainties. When he arrived, he moved quickly, walking directly to Shiro's office. The air was thick and heavy, saturated with tension. Raten was already there, pacing anxiously, fists clenching and unclenching as he moved, a barely-contained storm. Shiro's seat was empty, a stark reminder of the uncertainty they all shared.
When Shiro finally appeared, the familiar warmth and calmness typically etched upon his features had vanished, replaced by grim severity. He glanced at both brothers with somber eyes.
"Good, you're both here," he said, voice unusually tight. "No time to waste."
Vorden's stomach twisted sharply, a cold shiver snaking down his spine. Anxiety clawed at his throat as they gathered around the large meeting table. Shiro activated the call, connecting to Sam. The large view screen crackled momentarily before revealing Sam's face—worn, haggard, noticeably aged since last Vorden had seen him, with shadows haunting his gaze.
The silence stretched painfully. Sam visibly struggled, fighting with something unspoken as his eyes darted away briefly, a tear glistening silently along his cheek.
"I don't... I don't know how to say this, so I'll just say it," he managed finally, voice thick, and painfully raw. "Sil is dead."
The words struck like lightning, the silence following his declaration echoing impossibly loud in the room. Vorden's heart froze, a sudden, terrible weight crushing down upon him. His knees nearly buckled as the edges of reality blurred, his ears filled suddenly with a dull, ringing emptiness.
Shiro blinked rapidly, stunned and silent as tears trailed down his cheeks. Beside them, Raten turned ghost-white, as if the words had drained the blood from his veins. The shock was palpable, heavy, and suffocating.
Shiro stammered quietly, voice broken, "—What? Dead? How— how do you? How did he— wha— Why?"
Questions erupted rapidly from Vorden, desperate and frantic, "When? Where? How? What the hell is going on, Sam? How do you know this isn't some trick? How could this even happen?"
Sam shook his head slowly, sorrow etching deeply into his features. "I received a message...just a short while ago," he explained, voice wavering, heavy with grief. "It was from Bliss. She said she and Sil were addressing a Celestial causing problems in their solar system. It recognized Sil, grew hostile. A fight erupted. They were just outnumbered."
He paused, swallowing hard before continuing, eyes lowered sadly, "He fought to the end, bravely, fiercely, or so I'm told. But a body...a godslayer leaves no body behind. They disintegrate."
Vorden's throat tightened sharply. "Then where's his godslayer crystal?" he demanded, fighting to steady his shaking voice.
Sam hesitated again. "I don't know yet. I tried contacting Bliss, but she hasn't responded. I didn't even know she was traveling with Sil," he added, a faint bitterness creeping beneath his voice. It made Vorden pause briefly, confusion flickering through his grief, but he didn't press further.
"That's all I know right now," Sam finished quietly, regret thick in every word. "If I learn anything more, you'll be the first to know. For what it's worth—I'm truly sorry for your loss." The screen went dark.
The room spun slowly around Vorden, memories flooding painfully: laughter echoing through the vast empty room of Sil's mind, whispers shared in the dark, endless promises exchanged between brothers.
A sudden, furious cry shattered the silence, wrenching Vorden from his thoughts. Raten stood trembling, anger and pain warring across his face. "Those damned gods! They set him up, Vorden! You realize that, right? I swear I'll kill every last one of them!"
Vorden couldn't speak. Reality blurred, fractured. But before he could respond—
A sudden crash of something— no— someone, burst through the room, momentarily confusing them all. As the suddenly disrupted piles of papers fluttered about the room, slowly flowing down and eventually settling to allow for a better view of the being.
Sil appeared in its place, battered, bruised, and barely standing. His eyes, glazed with pain and exhaustion, wavered before collapsing. Raten surged forward, catching Sil before he hit the ground. Together, Vorden and Raten gently guided Sil to a nearby chair. Shiro, moving swiftly, returned quickly from the bar with a glass of water.
Breath labored, eyes wild with desperation, Sil's voice came faintly, barely above a whisper. "I need...help," he rasped hoarsely, trembling. "I don't...I don't have much time."
In that desperate moment, Sil swore them all—Shiro, Raten, and Vorden—to secrecy. Insisting that the knowledge of his presence there be kept to only those in that room. Sil was quite adamant that his death must appear to be reality. Nobody could find out that he was alive.