From time to time, Sylas would still think about that day he was forced to confront his own weakness for the first time.
Every time he faced it, he tried to forget it, he tried to throw it from his mind and ignore it, but every time he stepped out into this world he would be forced to face it again.
Death.
Back on Earth, ignoring these things wasn't difficult. In fact, it was even easy for him. There was nothing as permanent as death looming around every corner, so every time he made a mistake he could just bury it in another part of his brain and then move on as though nothing at all had happened.
But time and time again, out in this world post Summoning, he was forced to face the possibility of his death. And every time he did, that nagging discomfort in the back of his mind would come again, and then again, and then again.
The defensive mechanism he had built up so perfectly back on Earth felt completely worthless here.
On Earth, the worst thing that could happen was that he'd have to observe Cassarae from afar, that he would lose a relationship he could pretend not to care too much about, or that he could pretend had ended on good terms.
But out here, it was different. The stakes were much higher.
Out here he could die. The ones he loved could die. They could be permanently altered or changed, their minds warped beyond recognition.
Everything out here was a war zone they had no choice but to participate in. The chances of horrid things even outside of death were so astronomical that every mistake Sylas made was amplified tens of times over.
'Mistakes...'
Sylas looked at the feather. Somehow, it was getting even heavier in his hands, pulling down on him as though it wanted him to sink into the very earth itself.
To the side, Alex watched in silence, his eyes glittering as though he was anticipating something, some sort of change. And if he was anticipating it, it just might be the sort of shocking revelation that could change everything.
But Sylas didn't feel some great change coming. Staring at that feather, experiencing its weight, he almost saw through it.
How could something so light be so very heavy?
He walked through life, taking all the burdens onto himself, protecting his family and Earth on the back line and rushing ahead on the vanguard for the sake of them all. His mother, Cassarae, his family as a whole-every one of them tried to have him rely on them more, and he always rejected the idea.
Even for his mother, a woman he respected to the depths of his soul, the difference was little.
Sylas might nod and be accepting of her words on the surface, but in action, little changed. He just gave her busying tasks that she could distract herself with. So prolonged as she was in a place where she was safe, it would be fine.
That was why he had panicked so much when his little sister disappeared outside of a range he could control. He had a great amount of faith in her cleverness, in her intelligence, in her resourcefulness, but he never gave her a chance to show any of it.
She was his little sister, she deserved to be under his umbrella for a lifetime, she deserved to live a life of leisure and peace from this moment to the day she died a peaceful death. And if he could help it, he would ensure that she would never have to face the possibility of death at all.
If he was as good as he thought himself to be, he would surely reach such a stage one day... he already felt like the path was laid out for him.
But the one thing he couldn't do was bring back the dead. He couldn't reconstruct their Wills and just reforge those he loved. He couldn't do it... So he couldn't afford to take the risk of failing. He refused to.
The possibility of him slipping up and making another mistake, a mistake where he couldn't just brush it away and ignore it....


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