𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

𝟎𝟎𝟓

"No —" you argued, "it's supposed to be seeds. Elias is an actual bird."

Silas and you were bickering over what kind of treat Elias liked best. You claimed that the bird liked sunflower seeds, as you had seen Elias pecking at them during the few times you had bought them — but Silas begged to differ, saying that Elias didn't need food, for he wasn't a being, but merely a substance.

How mean.

"And besides," you continued heatedly, "Elias is made up of your mana! Don't you have any affection for him?"

Affection? That was a pretty strong word, considering Silas had only created it eleven days ago. And he definitely wouldn't say he had affections for you, whom he had only met about two weeks ago. The days had passed by swiftly and soon it had been half a month since you had started to slip into the palace gardens. You two already had a secret hiding spot, or so you deemed it.

Elias gave a high pitched noise as he stamped his feet on Silas's shoulders, almost as if he was protesting against him. Elias had taken a quick liking to you, sometimes perching on your shoulder, and he liked to bully and tease Silas with his actions. You thought it was rather funny as Silas, after all, had been the one to create it.

"Whatever." Silas shrugged. He stared at his fingers — he had made sure to clean them when you came over, but still, he could remember the smudges of blood layered in between the layers of his skin. "I don't care."

Unbeknownst to you, Silas continued his little actions of killing. How could he not? To stop would be suicide, as there were just so many assassins after him, ready to kill the future heir of the Empire before he got too strong. And each time, Silas's view of humans would warp and become even worse — he no longer viewed them as humans, but as lumps of flesh. His palm felt heavier each time he murdered, and Silas would scrub at his hands even more viciously and violently when he tried to wash the blood off his hands.

Their lives pressed down on Silas's shoulders, but the truth was, he didn't want to die. And to survive was to exterminate.

Silas had nightmares, at times, — or perhaps simply just dreams — that one day, you would draw a dagger and plunge it into his stomach. Silas could not trust you. Not yet, even if you posed as an innocent and sweet child.

You pouted as you scratched Elias's beak. "Don't say that in front of Elias. He'll get hurt."

"He can't get hurt," Silas said curtly. "He's not real."

Silas, as you got to know him, could be cutting at times. The smile Silas donned became lesser and lesser, and when he did smile, it was definitely not as radiant as the one he had first shown you.

Most kids would have been devastated, but not you. In fact, you took this as a sign that Silas was able to put down his pretenses in front of you.

The box of empty fruits lay at the side. The sun was streaming in between the gaps of the bushes then, and the wind kissed your pink cheeks, ruffling your hair. Your feet dangled off the bench as you stared at the sky, trying to find as many heart-shaped clouds as you could.