Glass Heart Syndrome

Chapter 37

Eren lay awake on his cot, staring at the low ceiling of his quarters. The silver pendant sat cool against his chest, a constant reminder of the betrayal he'd orchestrated and the mercy he'd shown. His body was exhausted, yet his mind ran like a blade, slicing through each event, each detail of the past few days, over and over.

The wind outside howled against the narrow windows, whispering tales of a gathering storm.

Footsteps echoed down the hallway, drawing closer. Eren's pulse quickened. At this hour, visits meant one thing: orders. Orders from Azrael, or worse, punishment for something he'd failed to anticipate.

The door creaked open. Alaric stood in the doorway, his silhouette sharp against the dim light of the hall. His expression was unreadable, his jaw set like stone. Eren pushed himself up, forcing a neutral expression as Alaric stepped inside, closing the door softly behind him.

"We need to talk," Alaric's voice was low, each word weighed with caution.

Eren inclined his head, forcing calm. "Of course. What's on your mind?"

Alaric's gaze hardened, his fists clenched at his sides. "It's about Lyanna."

The name hit like a blade. Eren felt the lie surge up his throat, but he swallowed it, meeting Alaric's intense stare with as much calm as he could muster.

"Her disappearance," Alaric continued, his voice barely a whisper, "is unsettling everyone. They don't trust the leadership anymore. Some suspect betrayal from within."

Eren kept his expression still, knowing that one misstep here could unravel everything. "And you suspect me?"

Alaric's silence was his answer.

"Lyanna was more than just a healer to us," Alaric said finally, his voice cracking slightly. "She kept us grounded, reminded us why we're fighting. Without her, the people are restless, looking for someone to blame. And some of them...they think that someone is you."

Eren met Alaric's eyes, something sharp and dangerous sparking within him. "If anyone questions my loyalty, they can say it to my face."

Alaric's gaze softened, if only slightly. "You know that's not how this works, Eren. People are frightened. They don't confront those they fear—they plot against them."

Eren's hands tightened into fists, but he forced his voice to remain level. "If there's unrest, let them say what they will. I serve Azrael and this cause, just as I always have."

For a moment, Alaric looked as though he might argue, but then he simply nodded. "Just be careful, Eren. The people you're closest to are often the ones holding the knife."

Eren's gaze followed Alaric as he left, the words lingering like a ghost in the silence. He had kept his secret, buried the lie, yet he could feel it pressing against his throat, choking him. Alaric's warning rang with a truth he could not ignore. The deception he had crafted was only as strong as the silence around him, and one slip would make him a target.

---

The next morning, Eren found himself in Azrael's chambers. Sunlight poured through the narrow windows, casting sharp lines of light and shadow across the room. Azrael sat at his desk, surrounded by parchment and scattered maps, his fingers tracing the delicate lines of his plans for the rebellion.

"Eren," Azrael greeted him, not looking up. "I trust you've been hearing the whispers."

Eren nodded, his heart sinking. "Yes, my lord."

Azrael's eyes, dark and calculating, finally lifted from the maps. "People are beginning to question your loyalty. They see Lyanna's absence as... convenient."