"A Flame that Fades"

Chapter 14: Breaking the Chain

Azgar's POV

I've been lying in this bed for what feels like forever. A month. A month since Freya left. I keep asking myself: Why couldn't I be the man she deserved? Why did I push her away when all she wanted was to show me she cared? Kindness still feels like something foreign to me—something I can't accept or return.

What frustrates me the most is that in those moments, I never knew what to say. I couldn't find the words when it mattered. But when it's too late—when everything's already fallen apart—my mind fills with a thousand things I should've said. Things that could've made a difference, but they never come when I need them.

I keep replaying the moment in my head—Freya choosing to write that letter. It's as if it's been glued to my hand ever since she left, a constant reminder of everything I failed to be. What was going through her mind when she wrote it? Was she angry? Disappointed? Did she expect more from me? Was I not the man she thought I was—or the man she hoped I could be?

I wish I had found the words to tell her how I really felt before she left. Does she think less of me now? Does she see me as a coward? The man too afraid of his own feelings, too weak to face his emotions—and on top of that, too afraid to stand up to his father.

Finally, I forced myself to stand up with a groan, my bones aching from the endless days of lying in bed. I barely had the energy for anything else. I stretched my arms, feeling the stiff ache in my shoulders, finally managing to snap them back into place.

I glanced at the mirror, and for a moment, I didn't recognize the person staring back at me. His hair was tangled, starting to mat at the ends. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his cheeks were hollowed from the self-inflicted malnourishment—something I never intended, but couldn't stop.

I couldn't remember the last time I had a proper meal. Food had become something my body refused to take in, no matter how small the portion I tried to eat. Zoron started noticing my absences during feasts and began questioning me about it. Yet, I told him the same lie every time: "I'm fine, Zoron. I already ate."

Yet how long will it take Zoron to realize I'm lying to him? Lying to the man who's been more of a father to me than my own father ever was? I can see it in his eyes, the way he watches me, the concern creeping into his voice whenever he asks about my health. He's not stupid. He's always known me better than anyone. But how much longer can I keep up this façade before he sees the cracks?

He deserves more than this—more than my lies, more than my silence. But I can't bring myself to tell him the truth. Not yet. I can barely face myself, let alone explain to him how far gone I really am.

He deserves to know the truth, just like Freya does. Zoron has been there for me in ways I never asked for, ways I never deserved. And Freya... she deserves to know the truth, too. She deserves to know the man I should have been, the man I never had the courage to be when it mattered.

But I can't bring myself to tell either of them. The weight of the truth feels too heavy, too much to bear. Every time I think about facing them, about speaking the words that could shatter everything—everything I've built up in my mind to survive these past weeks—it feels like I'm suffocating. I'm afraid of what they'll see in me, of what they'll think when they realize the kind of man I really am.

I've failed them both in different ways. But I don't know how to fix it. I don't even know if I can.

***

I zoned out, staring blankly out of the large window. My gaze drifted to the front yard of the castle, where Agnar was training with his men for the next raid. The sight of him, commanding the others with an iron grip, stirred something in me—resentment, maybe, or envy. It didn't matter. He would lead them all. He would march off into the world, fearless and sure of himself. And I would remain here, a shadow of the man I used to be.