Glass Heart Syndrome

Chapter 12

The morning fog had not yet lifted as Eren stepped out of the council's quarters, the quiet chill settling into his bones. The weight of the council's words clung to him, a grim reminder of what lay ahead. He was now bound by something deeper than loyalty—a contract written in silence, steeped in shadows. As much as he told himself it was about survival, the thought gnawed at him: how much of himself had he already sacrificed?

As he made his way back to his rented room, he passed a small group of townsfolk unloading crates of dried herbs and smoked meats. The market sounds filled the air: vendors haggling, children laughing, the rhythmic clink of coins exchanging hands. Ordinary lives, untouched by the council's grasp, a world he had left behind.

He barely noticed the sharp-eyed young boy trailing behind him until he heard the faint patter of footsteps trying to keep up. Eren turned sharply, catching the boy mid-step, his gaze wary.

The boy, no older than ten, froze under Eren's scrutiny, his gaze darting from Eren's face to the ground. "M'lord," he mumbled, shifting on his feet. "A message. They said to give it to you only."

Eren held out his hand, and the boy placed a small, folded slip of paper into his palm. Without another word, the boy scurried away, disappearing into the crowd.

Unfolding the note, Eren read the hastily scribbled words:

"Meet me at dusk. Outside the eastern walls. Come alone."

There was no signature, no name. Just the location and time. A trap? Possibly. But it also might be an opportunity—a chance to see where his new position could lead.

---

As dusk settled, Eren made his way to the outskirts of town, where the tall, weathered walls cast long shadows over the path. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and wild herbs growing by the roadside. He kept his senses sharp, his movements quiet, every nerve attuned to his surroundings.

Just beyond the wall, a figure waited, cloaked in dark robes that seemed to blend into the dimming light. Eren approached cautiously, his hand hovering near the knife hidden at his side.

The figure turned, revealing a familiar face. Alista—one of the council's agents, the woman who'd first delivered Rhyen's name to him. But tonight, her expression was more guarded, her gaze flickering with an edge of fear he hadn't seen before.

"Why did you want to meet?" Eren asked, keeping his voice low, his posture neutral.

Alista glanced around, as if ensuring they were alone, before leaning closer. "There are things you don't know, Eren," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Things the council doesn't want you to know."

Eren's eyes narrowed. He'd expected orders, perhaps another test. Not this. "Go on."

Alista hesitated, casting another nervous glance over her shoulder. "The council... they use people, discard them when they're no longer useful. I've seen it happen, time and time again. You think you're loyal to them, that you're safe. But trust me—they'll turn on you the moment it suits them."

Eren felt a flicker of doubt, but he kept his expression steady. He had already suspected as much, yet hearing it confirmed by someone from within was unsettling.

"You're saying this now, why?" he asked, suspicion creeping into his tone.

"Because you're different," she replied, her eyes meeting his with an intensity that bordered on desperation. "You still have a choice. There are others—people who want to take the council down. If you join them... we might have a chance."

Eren laughed softly, a sound without humor. "And replace one group of manipulators with another? What makes this any different?"

Alista's face hardened. "It's not about replacing them. It's about breaking the cycle. You've seen what the council does. They control everything from the shadows, leaving nothing untouched by their influence. But if we can weaken them, even for a moment, it could give people a real chance."

Eren looked away, considering her words. The council had already tested his loyalty, his resolve. They demanded absolute submission, without question. But he wasn't a pawn to be moved at their whim. Not anymore.

"And if I refuse?" he asked, his gaze returning to her.

Alista's expression softened. "Then you keep playing their game until they're finished with you. But remember this—you'll be on borrowed time. The council doesn't keep loyal dogs. They keep tools, and when a tool dulls..." She let the sentence hang, her meaning clear.

A beat of silence stretched between them. In that pause, Eren felt the weight of the decision before him. To continue serving the council was to risk losing himself piece by piece, until he was nothing more than the weapon they'd forged. But to rebel was to step into the unknown, risking his life and whatever fragile alliances he'd managed to build.

"Fine," he said at last, his voice barely audible. "Tell me what you know."

Alista's shoulders relaxed slightly, the tension in her face easing. "Meet me tomorrow, same place, same time. I'll bring what I can."

Without waiting for a response, she turned and slipped back into the shadows, leaving Eren alone beneath the weight of the coming darkness.

He stood there a moment longer, the quiet seeping into his bones, chilling him. The council's world had rules—rules he had followed until now, believing they'd keep him alive. But those rules were beginning to crack, and through the fractures, he could see glimpses of something deeper, darker.

Eren turned back toward the town, the decision settled within him. He would play their game for now, but he would keep his eyes open. Trust would no longer be his currency.

Only survival.