Cyril's boots echoed down the hall as he made his way back to his room, the weight of his new responsibilities pressing on him with every step. His mind was still a mess from the conversation with his father, and he wasn't sure how to feel about any of it. Brakmoor, the rebellion, his father's expectations, the weird system with all these skills he didn't fully understand—it was all a lot to process.
But when he reached his door, he paused.
There she was.
Anna. Standing by his window, her stick tapping softly against the stone floor as she listened for his footsteps. She hadn't heard him come in—probably because she didn't need to. She knew he was close.
But instead of waiting for him to approach, she turned slowly, feeling her way out of the room, moving with careful, deliberate steps.
"Anna..." Cyril started, his voice quieter than he meant it to be.
She smiled, though she couldn't see him. "Young master... I knew you'd be back."
Her voice, so calm and sweet, made his chest tighten. He couldn't explain it. After everything that had happened—death, a second chance, all these weird abilities—the only thing that really seemed to matter, that kept him grounded, was Anna. His childhood friend. The one person who always stuck by him, even when things got crazy.
She was everything pure in his life.
He stepped forward, instinctively reaching out to her, his hand brushing against hers. She had her stick, but sometimes, he felt like she still needed help. Always.
"Let me help you," he said softly, offering her his arm.
Anna didn't hesitate, slipping her small hand into the crook of his elbow, her trust in him unspoken but palpable. They walked toward the bed, but something shifted in the air—Anna's mood seemed to change. She stiffened slightly, her fingers tightening on his arm as she muttered, "I heard rumors… about Lord Dravis asking you to leave."
"Brakmoor," Cyril confirmed, keeping his voice calm despite the turmoil bubbling inside him. "I have to go."
Anna stopped walking, pulling her hand away from his arm, her head turning slightly as she absorbed the weight of his words. She let out a quiet, almost inaudible sigh, her shoulders slumping. "You're really leaving, aren't you?" she asked, her voice a mixture of surprise and disappointment. "Without me?"
Cyril's chest tightened at the rawness in her voice. He hadn't expected this reaction, hadn't expected her to take it so hard. But he understood. He understood the unspoken bond they shared, the fact that they'd never been apart, not like this.
"I... I don't want to leave you, Anna," Cyril said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I don't have a choice. My father... he's sending me. I need to prove myself."
Anna's lips tightened into a thin line as she glanced away, her fingers tapping nervously against her side. "I know what you're saying, but that doesn't mean I have to like it."
Cyril stood there, unsure of how to respond. He could feel the conflict inside her, the desire to stay close to him, to not let him go. He knew it was more than just a desire to protect him—it was about their shared history, the years they'd spent growing up side by side. She didn't want to be left behind, and Cyril wasn't sure he could bear the thought of leaving her like this.
"You don't have to stay behind," he said softly, his heart sinking. "I'll come back. I swear it. I'll make sure you understand everything. But you need to stay here. It's too dangerous."
Anna didn't answer right away, and the silence between them stretched on, thick and heavy. Finally, she spoke again, her voice quieter but still firm. "You think I'm not capable of handling things on my own?"
"No! That's not what I meant, Anna," Cyril said quickly, his words tumbling over themselves. "It's just... Brakmoor isn't safe. You deserve to be safe."
Anna smiled faintly, shaking her head. "I'm not some fragile thing, Cyril. I can take care of myself. But I don't want to be here alone, waiting for you. You're not the only one who's worried."
Cyril felt a pang of guilt in his chest. "Anna…"
She interrupted him, her voice softer now. "I want to go with you, Cyril. I want to help. I've always helped. Why should this be any different?"
Cyril hesitated, the weight of her words sinking in. He had always seen her as someone who needed protection, someone he had to look after. But the truth was, Anna was no stranger to danger. She was capable, smart, and had always been there for him. She had never hesitated to stand by his side, no matter the challenge.
"Anna, I don't want you to come," Cyril said, but the words lacked conviction. He didn't want her to get hurt, but he knew deep down that he was being selfish. The thought of leaving her behind made him feel hollow. "I don't want to put you in danger."
Anna's face softened, and she took a step closer to him, placing a hand on his arm. "Then don't leave me behind. I won't let you do this alone."
Cyril met her gaze, and for a moment, he saw something in her eyes—a determination, a quiet strength that had always been there, even when he'd failed to notice it.
After a long pause, Cyril finally nodded. "Alright... You can come with me. But promise me you'll be careful."
Anna's face lit up, a smile breaking through the tension. "I promise, Young Master."
Her words, light and teasing, made his heart ache with something he couldn't quite place. He wasn't sure what lay ahead for them, but one thing was certain now—he wouldn't be walking this path alone.
As they left the room together, their steps in sync, Cyril couldn't help but feel a sense of reassurance. Maybe, just maybe, things would be alright. With Anna by his side, he didn't feel as uncertain about the journey ahead.
As Cyril and Anna stepped out of his room, the weight of their conversation still hung between them, but a new resolve settled in. Cyril hadn't been sure about bringing Anna along, but her presence made him feel less alone. He was about to tell her they should hurry, that they might need to pack a few things before leaving, when the sound of footsteps echoed from down the hall.
Turning, Cyril saw Sebastian approaching them at a brisk pace, his usual stoic expression replaced with a rare hint of urgency. The older man's sharp eyes met Cyril's as he reached them, his voice low and serious.
"Master Cyril," Sebastian began, bowing slightly in respect, though his tone was more urgent than formal. "I must speak with you before you depart."
Cyril frowned, glancing at Anna, who had already sensed the shift in the atmosphere. She tightened her grip on his arm, her brow furrowing in concern.
"Sebastian, what is it?" Cyril asked, his tone already a bit on edge.
"There's something you need to know before you leave for Brakmoor." Sebastian's words hung in the air, heavy with significance. "The Willow Army of Avelwyn will be waiting for you there."
Cyril blinked, his stomach dropping. The Willow Army? He had heard whispers of them—elite soldiers from Avelwyn, skilled in both combat and espionage. Their reputation was enough to make anyone wary. The idea of them being stationed in Brakmoor, waiting for him, sent a cold shiver down his spine.
"Why?" Cyril asked, his voice a little sharper than he intended. "What do they want with me?"
Sebastian's eyes flickered briefly toward Anna, then back to Cyril. His expression remained neutral, but Cyril knew him well enough to understand the unspoken tension. Sebastian had always been more forthcoming with information, but something about this situation was off.
"They are... an extension of your father's will," Sebastian said slowly, his tone darkening. "He's sending them ahead to make sure you... arrive safely. But not just that. They'll be watching you, Cyril. Observing. And I suspect they are there for other reasons, too."
Cyril's jaw clenched. His father's manipulations were no surprise, but the presence of the Willow Army felt more like a command than a protective gesture. It made his gut twist in suspicion. What did his father know that he wasn't telling him?
"Why would he send them? To 'watch' me?" Cyril's voice grew tight with frustration. "I don't need to be watched. I need to find my own way in all of this. I'm not a puppet!"
Sebastian nodded, acknowledging Cyril's anger, though his expression remained unchanged. "I understand, Master Cyril. But your father's influence runs deep, and there are things you don't yet understand. These soldiers... they are both a safeguard and a leash. They will make sure you don't stray too far from his expectations."
Cyril's heart beat harder in his chest, and for a moment, he felt trapped by the web of his family's politics. Avelwyn's military force, his father's intentions—it all felt too suffocating. He'd been hoping for a moment of freedom, a break from it all, but now, it seemed as though there was no escape.
Anna squeezed his arm tighter, her voice barely a whisper. "Cyril... What will you do?"
The question hung between them, simple and heavy. Cyril glanced at her, her wide eyes full of concern, and for a moment, he just stood there, torn between the life he had always known and the uncertain road ahead.
"I don't have a choice, do I?" Cyril muttered, more to himself than to anyone else.
Sebastian's gaze softened slightly, but only for a moment. "You always have a choice, Master Cyril. But the choices you make now could determine the path your future takes."
Cyril exhaled sharply. "I'll still go," he said, his decision final. "I'll go to Brakmoor. But I'll need to be prepared. If the Willow Army is already there, waiting... I can't just walk in unready."
Sebastian gave a small nod, his lips pressing into a thin line. "I'll see to it that you have what you need. But you must be cautious. There's more at play here than even your father has told you. I suggest you keep your guard up."
Cyril nodded, though he wasn't entirely sure what that meant for him. He was walking into something bigger than he'd realized, and the weight of it pressed down on him.
Anna stepped forward then, her usual quiet determination shining through. "We'll be careful," she said, her voice steady. "You won't be alone, Cyril. We'll face this together."
For the first time in what felt like days, Cyril allowed himself a small, grateful smile. The world around him might be closing in, but at least Anna would be by his side.
Sebastian's sharp gaze shifted to Anna, and though he didn't say it out loud, Cyril could feel the silent message—she'd better be ready for what was to come.
But Cyril didn't care. He wasn't going to back down. Not now.
"Alright," Cyril said, his voice firm. "We'll leave as planned. Get everything ready, Sebastian. We have a journey ahead."
With that, he turned, his arm still securely around Anna as they moved down the hall. Whatever awaited them in Brakmoor, they would face it together. And this time, Cyril was determined to make his own choices, even if the weight of his father's expectations—and the eyes of the Willow Army—hung heavy on his shoulders.