Glass Heart Syndrome

Chapter 11

The quiet of the old district clung to Eren as he slipped back into the main streets, where the sun had risen just high enough to cast a pale, indifferent light over the town. The market was beginning to bustle, a stark contrast to the silence he'd left behind, but Eren's mind was far from the hum of life around him. He could still feel Rhyen's final breath in the air, the way his hand had trembled as he held the blade, and that look—fear mingling with an understanding that Eren had tried to ignore.

He pushed the thoughts down, forcing himself to focus. He was on a mission, and each part of it mattered. Dwelling on what had already happened was a luxury he couldn't afford.

As he turned a corner toward the tavern, he spotted a familiar figure waiting just beyond the entryway. The woman from last night's meeting—the one who had given him Rhyen's name. She hadn't said much then, only enough to make him understand what he was being asked to do. Now, her gaze met his, assessing, but without surprise.

Eren approached her, his footsteps steady. "It's done," he said, his tone even.

She nodded, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "Good. You're learning quickly."

Eren's jaw tightened. He didn't need her approval, nor did he care for it. Yet he knew this was only a step in a larger game, and showing any sign of hesitation could undo what he'd just set in motion.

"What's next?" he asked, keeping his voice steady.

The woman tilted her head, as though sizing him up anew. "You'll report to the council," she said. "They want to see the man behind the act. They like to meet anyone willing to... make difficult choices."

The council. A part of him had known it would come to this, but hearing it said aloud still felt strange. They were the ones who held the power in this part of Ezura—the shadowy figures who controlled everything from trade routes to town justice. And now, they wanted to meet him.

A test within a test. He couldn't be certain of what they wanted, or what he was stepping into, but he'd already accepted that uncertainty was his new reality.

"Fine," he replied, holding the woman's gaze.

Without another word, she turned and led him through the twisting streets, each step bringing them closer to the heart of the old district. The buildings became taller, the alleys narrower, as if funneling him deeper into the shadows of the town's underbelly. There was a weight to the air here, a lingering darkness that clung to every stone, every creak of wood. The town itself seemed to watch, as though alive with its own malice.

Finally, they reached a modest, nondescript building set back from the street. It seemed abandoned, its windows dark and dusty, but the door was ajar, as though inviting him inside. The woman gestured for him to enter, her face unreadable, her gaze unwavering.

Eren stepped through the doorway, the silence thickening around him as he entered a dimly lit room. His eyes took a moment to adjust, scanning the shadows until he saw them—the council members, seated in a semi-circle, their faces obscured by hoods. They watched him, silent and still, their presence an unspoken authority that filled the space.

"Eren Valen," one of them spoke, the voice low and measured. "We've heard of your... accomplishment."

The words hung in the air, laced with a mixture of approval and indifference. Eren met their gaze—or where he assumed their gaze would be—with a steady calm. They were testing him, weighing his reaction as much as his actions.

"You wanted a task completed," he replied, his tone even. "I did what was necessary."

There was a pause, the silence stretching between them, thick with unspoken judgment. Then another voice spoke, colder, more calculating. "And do you understand why it was necessary?"

Eren felt the weight of the question, the implied challenge. He had been following orders, but he knew there was more to it than simple obedience. This was about survival, about proving himself to them—and to himself.

"Survival," he answered, choosing his words carefully. "In this world, power isn't given. It's taken. Kindness is seen as weakness, and hesitation is deadly."

A murmur of approval rippled through the council. The one who had spoken first leaned forward, their hooded face just barely visible in the dim light.

"You're learning quickly," the figure said. "But understanding is only one part of the equation. Loyalty is the other."

Eren's jaw tightened. Loyalty. A concept that had once meant something different, something softer, kinder. But here, it was a demand, an expectation of submission to their will.

"I am loyal," he replied, forcing conviction into his words. He could feel the weight of their scrutiny, the silent judgment pressing down on him.

The figure leaned back, satisfied. "Good. Because there is much to be done, and you will be our instrument. There are those who need... reminders of where true power lies."

Eren nodded, accepting the weight of their words. He was a tool, a weapon in their hands, and for now, that was enough. He had chosen this path, and he would see it through, even if it meant surrendering pieces of himself along the way.

As the council dismissed him, he stepped back into the cold morning light, the weight of his new reality settling over him. There was no going back, no escape from the shadows that had claimed him.

He had made his choice.