Glass Heart Syndrome

Chapter 29

Eren stood in the dim candlelight of his quarters, his mind echoing with Nera's words. Her hope, her sadness—it had struck him in a way he hadn't anticipated. He tried to push the feeling down, tried to focus on the power he'd gained, the lives he'd claimed. But the emptiness only grew.

With a sharp exhale, he moved to his workbench. Books lay open, diagrams sketched in quick, precise strokes. He poured over the pages, channeling his thoughts into studies of dark magic, ancient rituals, anything to drown out the ache left by her parting words. Power had been his salvation; it was all he had left.

But as he stared at a complex binding spell, his vision blurred, and the markings seemed to twist and shift on the page. His hand shook for a moment, and he clenched his fist, willing the sensation away.

He wasn't weak. Weakness had been burned out of him the day he had embraced the darker path, the day he had chosen survival over mercy. Eren was no longer the boy who dreamt of heroes and hope—he was something else now. A necessary monster.

Yet, when he looked at the faint reflection in the glass of his quarters, he saw not the confident mage but a shadowed version of himself, gaunt and cold. For a heartbeat, he wondered if Nera was right. If some part of him had been lost, and what that meant for the man he was becoming.

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Later that Night

A disturbance jolted Eren from his thoughts. There was a loud crash down the hall, followed by hurried footsteps. He grabbed his cloak, slipping into the corridor, where shadows flickered as guards rushed past.

"What's happening?" he demanded, stopping a guard.

The man, out of breath, looked up. "There's... been an incident. One of the Elder Council's last supporters—we thought he'd fled, but he's... he's attacking Azrael's quarters."

Eren's heart pounded. Another rival, another challenge. Without hesitation, he turned and made his way to Azrael's chambers, his movements swift, precise. He wasn't driven by concern, nor loyalty, but by the chance to prove himself once more. If Azrael fell, he would be one of the few in line to take his place. And if Azrael survived, the loyalty Eren showed tonight would only strengthen his position.

As he reached the hall leading to Azrael's chambers, he saw the man—a sorcerer in tattered robes, his face twisted with fury and desperation, his hands glowing with chaotic energy. Eren could feel the intensity of the man's magic, a wild, unfocused power born out of hatred.

The sorcerer turned, spotting Eren, his eyes blazing. "So, you're Azrael's new dog," he sneered. "Here to protect the tyrant?"

Eren raised his chin, his own magic coiling in his palms. "Azrael may be ruthless, but at least he's capable. You, on the other hand... look at yourself. All that power, wasted on vengeance."

The man laughed, the sound bitter and cracked. "I was once like you—believing in strength, in loyalty. But loyalty to Azrael? It only ends one way: betrayal. You'll see that soon enough."

Eren felt a flicker of recognition in the man's words, a whisper of something he didn't want to face. But he pushed it aside, focusing on the magic building in his hands.

They clashed in a violent burst of energy, spells crackling through the air. Eren dodged, weaving between the blasts, his movements fluid, honed by months of intense training. He struck back, his attacks precise, targeting the man's weak points.

The sorcerer staggered, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, yet his gaze never wavered. "You can kill me," he gasped, "but remember this: Azrael has no loyalty. He'll use you until you're as hollow as he is."

Eren hesitated, his hand faltering for a split second. But the moment passed, and he struck, his magic slicing through the man's defenses. The sorcerer fell, his body crumpling to the ground in silence.

As Eren stood over him, catching his breath, the man's final words lingered in the air, heavy and unshakeable. He tried to dismiss them, to let them fade like all the others who'd died by his hand. But deep down, he knew they'd left a mark.

He glanced back down the hall toward Azrael's chambers, where the faint glow of candlelight flickered in the darkness. The path he had chosen was clear, but tonight, for the first time, he felt the edges of doubt creeping in.

Was he truly prepared to follow this path to the end, even if it meant becoming as hollow as those he despised?

With one last look at the fallen sorcerer, Eren turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing in the silence.