Glass Heart Syndrome

Chapter 24

The whispers spread quickly. By morning, the news of the council massacre had reached every corner of the city, the message unmistakable: no one was safe from the shadows. As Eren walked through the streets, he could feel the fear that clung to people, see it in the wary glances and hurried steps. It was as if a storm had passed, and everyone was afraid it might return without warning.

The hollow feeling from the night before still clung to him. His hands were clean now, but he could still feel the weight of blood on them. He'd taken life with precision and purpose, and in doing so, he'd proven his loyalty to Azrael and sealed his place within the ranks of power. But each step he took felt heavier than the last, a creeping dread curling at the edge of his consciousness.

---

Eren's presence at Azrael's side grew more frequent. His tasks ranged from securing territories to eliminating threats without hesitation. But every night, after fulfilling his duty, Eren found himself returning to his room, staring into the dark silence, a question gnawing at him: was he controlling the darkness, or was it beginning to control him?

One night, as he entered his quarters, a folded note lay on his desk—a message left without sound or sight. The handwriting was sharp and meticulous, a single line written with chilling clarity:

"They are watching you."

Eren felt a prickle of unease as he read it. He had enemies, that much he knew. The councilors who had survived, the powerful families who had been shaken by the massacre—they wouldn't let this go unanswered. And yet, something about the note felt different. It wasn't a threat. It was a warning.

He burned the note, the flames eating away at the ink and paper until only ash remained.

---

The days passed, and Eren moved with even greater caution. He couldn't shake the feeling that eyes were on him, shadowing his every move. Azrael dismissed his concerns, telling him it was only natural for a man of his growing power to feel the weight of attention. But Eren couldn't ignore the subtle shifts he noticed—the moments when conversations fell silent as he approached, the faces that seemed to linger a second too long.

It wasn't long before his instincts proved true. One night, during a patrol through the outskirts, he felt it—a presence following him. He slipped into an alley, pressing his back against the cold stone, heart pounding, as he waited. His senses sharpened, every sound amplified in the silence.

Then he heard it—the soft scrape of a boot against stone, the barely audible intake of breath. Whoever they were, they were good. He waited until they were close enough, then struck, grabbing his pursuer by the collar and yanking them into the alley.

A sharp gasp escaped them, but Eren froze as he saw who it was—a young woman, perhaps a few years younger than him, with eyes that burned with defiance despite the fear that flickered in them. Her cloak was nondescript, but he could tell by the insignia hidden at the edge that she belonged to one of the council families.

"Why are you following me?" he demanded, keeping his voice low but firm.

She glared at him, her expression defiant. "To see if the rumors are true."

Eren's grip tightened. "What rumors?"

"That you've become Azrael's dog," she spat. "A puppet, willing to do anything for power."

Eren felt a surge of anger but forced himself to remain calm. "You don't know anything about me."

"Oh, I know enough," she said, her voice sharp. "You think you're untouchable now, don't you? But power doesn't last, especially for those who turn their back on who they once were."

Eren hesitated, her words striking deeper than he wanted to admit. But he pushed the doubt away, hardening his gaze. "Be careful, or you might end up like the others."

She flinched, but her eyes never wavered. "One day, you'll realize what you've become. And by then, it'll be too late."

Eren released her, stepping back as she stumbled, catching herself before she fell. She held his gaze for a moment longer, something like pity mingling with her defiance. Then she turned and disappeared into the night, leaving Eren alone in the empty alleyway.

He stood there for a long moment, the words echoing in his mind. He told himself they were meaningless, the desperate attempt of someone clinging to a dying cause. But as he walked back through the darkened streets, he couldn't shake the feeling that, perhaps, she had seen something in him that he hadn't yet faced.

---

The following night, he met with Azrael, the encounter with the young woman still fresh in his mind. Azrael noticed the tension in him, a flicker of something dark in his expression.

"Is something bothering you?" Azrael asked, his voice soft but edged with a dangerous curiosity.

Eren hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "One of the council families—someone from their ranks was watching me. They wanted to see if I'd... changed."

Azrael's lips curled into a faint smile. "And? Have you?"

Eren met Azrael's gaze, the weight of the question settling over him. The answer was there, unspoken, lingering in the silence between them. He had changed—perhaps more than he'd realized. He'd shed parts of himself, pieces he'd once held onto as markers of who he was, all in the pursuit of survival and power.

But as he looked at Azrael, the man who had taught him so much, he felt a surge of something unsteady, an unease he couldn't quite place. The life he'd chosen was one of shadows and sacrifice, and yet, for the first time, he questioned the price he was paying.

Azrael's smile faded, his gaze turning cold. "If you hesitate, you'll only make yourself vulnerable. Weakness has no place here, Eren."

Eren nodded, though his heart felt heavy. "I understand."

As he left Azrael's chamber, he felt the weight of the young woman's words pressing down on him, mingling with Azrael's chilling reminder. He was caught in the middle, pulled between the darkness he'd embraced and the faint, lingering remnants of the person he used to be.

---

Later, in the solitude of his room, he sat by the dim light of a single candle, staring at the flame as it flickered in the darkness. He'd come so far, gained so much power. But as he looked at the shadows dancing along the walls, he couldn't ignore the creeping feeling that perhaps, piece by piece, he was losing himself.

And in the silence, a single thought surfaced, one he'd buried long ago: Was there still a part of him worth saving? Or had he crossed a line he could never return from?