Glass Heart Syndrome

Chapter 43

Dawn crept in, casting muted light through the cracks in the safe house walls. Eren lay awake, eyes fixed on the ceiling, his mind trapped in a relentless churn of calculations. The night's encounter with Daegan had left more than physical wounds—it unearthed fragments of memories he had buried in his quest for strength. Daegan had been a mentor, a friend once. Now, he was just one more piece of Eren's shattered past, a reminder of what Ezura had made him become.

Alaric shifted nearby, watching Eren with a shadowed gaze. "Didn't think you'd make it out of there," he murmured finally. "You and Daegan had history, didn't you?"

Eren didn't answer right away. His thoughts coiled, circling back to Daegan's last words. You've changed. Shame—it would have been easier. It wasn't regret that gnawed at him, but the cold realization of how far he'd fallen.

"We were close once," he admitted. "But Daegan chose his path when he swore loyalty to Azrael."

Alaric scoffed, fingers tapping rhythmically on his knee. "Loyalty in Ezura is worth less than a breath. And Azrael knows how to twist it to his own ends."

---

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of two allies, Renna and Jarek, both grim-faced. Renna, a scout with an unnerving knack for information, had caught wind of something Eren needed to hear.

"Eren," Renna started, her voice barely a whisper. "Azrael's called for a new order. A list. Your name is at the top."

Eren's eyes narrowed. Azrael had always been relentless, but this was new—personal. He had pushed too close, threatened Azrael's dominion, and now he was a marked man.

Renna handed him a parchment, her fingers trembling. Eren scanned it, his stomach knotting as he recognized names—his own, Alaric, even the safe houses he thought were hidden.

"They'll find us here soon," Renna continued, her tone betraying a hint of fear. "It's only a matter of time."

Eren's mind raced, calculating options, risks, possibilities. He couldn't let Azrael strike first, couldn't risk more lives for his ambitions. Every name on that list was a person Azrael had deemed worthy of elimination, a sacrifice to maintain his grip on Ezura.

He turned to Alaric, his voice steely. "We need to break the chain, disrupt his spies. We make Azrael question his own intel."

Alaric raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. "You're suggesting we feed Azrael false information. Bold."

"We'll make him see ghosts," Eren replied, a dark glint in his eye. "Let's give him reason to doubt every name on that list."

---

Eren gathered his most trusted allies, outlining a plan as shadows danced across the safe house walls. They would target Azrael's inner circle, not with open force but with misdirection and deception. By altering the flow of information, they would lead Azrael into striking at empty targets, wasting resources, questioning his own network's loyalty.

Their first move was an ambush. Renna had found a location where one of Azrael's informants was set to meet another of his operatives. The plan was simple: capture the informants and send them back with information that would lead Azrael to a decoy safe house, a phantom target.

Night fell quickly as they positioned themselves in a narrow valley. Eren, Alaric, and Renna lay in wait, hidden by the shadows of dense trees, watching for movement.

Eren's breathing slowed, eyes trained on the path below. The air was thick with anticipation, each breath synchronized with the rustling leaves. And then, faint footsteps echoed through the valley—a pair of figures moving cautiously along the path, cloaked in dark robes, weapons hidden beneath.

He gave Alaric a nod. Silently, they struck.

Renna darted forward, cutting off the informants' escape route, her dagger gleaming in the moonlight. Eren moved next, disarming one before the man could even react. The second informant lunged at Alaric, but a swift kick sent him sprawling to the ground.

Eren crouched, his hand pressing down on the man's chest, his eyes cold. "You're going to deliver a message for me," he said, voice like ice. "Tell Azrael that we're preparing to strike at the Crossroads safe house. Do it right, and you might just live to see another day."

The informant's eyes flickered with fear, but he nodded, his loyalty wavering in the face of Eren's command.

"Go," Eren said, releasing his grip. He watched the man scramble to his feet and disappear into the night, carrying the lie that would mislead Azrael's forces.

---

When they returned to their true hideout, Alaric seemed unusually quiet, his face tense. Finally, as the others dispersed, he approached Eren, his gaze searching.

"You're risking everything on deception," Alaric said, his voice low. "But lies don't last forever. Sooner or later, Azrael will catch on."

Eren met his gaze evenly. "Then we stay ahead of him, always moving, always adapting. We use his own strength against him until there's nothing left."

Alaric's frown deepened. "You've changed, Eren. When you first came here, you wanted to protect, to save. Now you talk of dismantling, of dominating."

Eren held his stare, his face unreadable. "Ezura showed me that survival doesn't come from kindness. It comes from control."

Alaric's gaze softened, as though mourning the remnants of the man Eren once was. But he said nothing more, turning away and leaving Eren alone with the weight of his choices.

---

Days passed in a tense silence as they awaited Azrael's response. News reached them through Renna's contacts—Azrael had taken the bait, his forces converging on the Crossroads safe house with overwhelming power. But when they arrived, they found nothing but a barren building, an empty shell waiting to mock their efforts.

The success was a small but necessary victory, and Eren's allies breathed easier, if only for a moment. But for Eren, the victory was tempered by the knowledge that each feint brought Azrael's focus sharper onto him, increasing the danger for everyone around him.

Standing on the cliffside overlooking the valley below, Eren allowed himself a rare moment of reflection. His journey from the idealistic young mage he had once been to the calculating leader he had become felt both foreign and inevitable. The sacrifices weighed heavily on him, each decision further carving away the remnants of his once-gentle soul.

He clenched his fists, eyes steeling against the dawn rising over Ezura. There was no going back, no returning to the man he'd left behind. The path ahead was dark, uncertain, and littered with the ghosts of those who had fallen along the way.

But as he stood there, a singular resolve burned within him, fierce and unyielding. If he had to become the villain, so be it. He would carve his own way, one battle, one deception, one sacrifice at a time.