Glass Heart Syndrome

Chapter 35

Eren moved with careful calculation, ingraining himself further within the rebel faction while maintaining Azrael's trust. Each encounter with the rebels left him hollow and haunted. He could feel the weight of Alaric's gaze, filled with trust and admiration, and he knew that in this deadly game, loyalty was a luxury he couldn't afford.

But his mind spun with plans. If he couldn't tear down Azrael directly, he would work from within, slowly corroding the Shadow Lord's grip. A long game—dangerous, but it was his only way forward.

---

One evening, Alaric invited Eren to a private meeting outside the confines of the rebel's underground hideout. The chosen location was a small clearing in the forest, just outside the city walls—a quiet, isolated place where their voices wouldn't carry.

As Eren arrived, he found Alaric waiting, his expression somber. "Thank you for coming, Eren. I thought it best to talk away from prying eyes."

Eren nodded, studying Alaric with an even gaze. "What is it you wanted to discuss?"

Alaric hesitated, then took a deep breath. "I wanted to thank you. You don't know how much hope you've given everyone. Having you on our side... it's rekindled something in us we thought was lost."

Eren's chest tightened at the words, but he forced himself to stay silent, allowing Alaric to continue.

"You were always the one with the light, Eren," Alaric continued, his gaze distant as if remembering a past life. "Back in those early days, you were the dreamer. The one who believed we could change the world."

Eren swallowed hard, feeling the sting of the memories Alaric's words brought up. "That feels like a lifetime ago."

"Maybe it was," Alaric said, his voice soft. "But for us, it was real. And seeing you here now, fighting against the darkness—it's like that light hasn't dimmed."

If only you knew, Eren thought bitterly. He had become something unrecognizable, driven by the very darkness he had once despised. And yet, here was Alaric, unknowingly looking into the eyes of a man capable of betrayal.

But as they stood there, surrounded by the silent trees, Eren felt a crack in the icy wall he had built around his heart. Perhaps it was the memory of the ideals they once shared, or perhaps it was Alaric's unwavering faith. Whatever it was, it tugged at him, stirring something he had thought long dead.

"Alaric," Eren said quietly, "if things ever take a darker turn... I hope you'll remember me as I was, not as I am now."

Alaric frowned, a shadow passing over his face. "What are you talking about?"

"Just a thought," Eren replied, managing a weak smile. He couldn't let himself hope—hope was a fragile thing in a world like this. He couldn't afford it, not with Azrael watching his every move.

---

Returning to Azrael's chambers after the meeting with Alaric, Eren felt the familiar sense of dread settling over him. Azrael's stare was colder than usual, his gaze lingering a moment too long, studying Eren with a sharp, probing intensity.

"Report," Azrael ordered, his tone curt.

Eren recounted his interactions with the rebels, weaving truths with lies, careful to disguise any hint of his shifting allegiance. But Azrael's eyes never left him, and a gnawing fear grew in the pit of Eren's stomach.

When he finished, Azrael leaned back, his lips curling into a sinister smile. "Loyalty is a curious thing, wouldn't you agree, Eren?"

Eren's pulse quickened, but he kept his expression neutral. "It is, my lord."

Azrael rose from his seat, pacing slowly around Eren, his voice a low murmur. "The rebels trust you completely, it seems. Almost as if... they see you as one of their own."

Eren's throat tightened, but he managed a calm reply. "I've done everything you asked, my lord. They believe I am here to fight with them—to betray them when the time comes."

Azrael stopped, turning to face him, his gaze piercing. "Remember, Eren. I've given you power, purpose, and protection. But the moment you cease to be useful to me, I will cast you aside without a second thought."

A chill ran down Eren's spine. He nodded, bowing his head. "I understand, my lord."

Azrael's eyes softened, but only slightly. "Good. Because I have another task for you. One that will test the limits of your loyalty."

Eren felt a sinking feeling, but he remained silent, awaiting the Shadow Lord's command.

"There's a woman among the rebels," Azrael continued. "One who has been stirring sentiments of revolution, spreading hope where there should be none. Find her, eliminate her, and return to me with proof of her demise."

Eren clenched his fists at his sides, feeling the crushing weight of Azrael's order. He knew who the woman was—a kind-hearted healer named Lyanna, beloved by the people. She was a beacon of hope among the rebels, the very embodiment of the ideals they once shared.

But he had no choice. If he refused, Azrael would know, and any shred of trust he had built with the Shadow Lord would vanish.

"Yes, my lord," Eren replied, his voice a whisper. "It will be done."

Azrael nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Excellent. Show them what happens to those who dare to dream."

---

Later that night, Eren wandered the empty streets, his mind torn between loyalty and conscience. Lyanna was more than a rebel; she was a healer, a light in the darkness of Azrael's oppressive rule. And yet, if he didn't carry out the order, he would be signing his own death warrant—and possibly Alaric's as well.

Caught between two worlds, he realized he could no longer stand on the knife's edge. He had to choose a side, a path that would define him, for better or worse.

The weight of his next steps settled upon him like chains, heavy and unforgiving. And as he moved through the shadows, one thought pulsed within him—a single, desperate plea.

Let this choice mean something.