That was the strange thing about Mortis' childhood.
It wasn't the absence of a father—the fact that he had never seen him, never even had a picture.
It wasn't growing up alone with his mother,or dreading school because of the whispers, the laughter—
fatherless.
No.
It was the man in the golden armor.
Tall. Striking. Clad in radiant gold, with a blazing sun etched across his chest. His hair shimmered like light itself, but his eyes—
his eyes were black.
Deep. Ancient. Filled with a sorrow that felt older than time…and a quiet longing for something yet to come.
No one else ever saw him.
Not even his mother.
The man followed Mortis everywhere.
Some might have called him a ghost. Others, something worse.
But Mortis knew—
he wasn't evil.
His name was Cassian.
A knight, he had said.
A knight of the Kingdom of the Sun.The right hand of the greatest king to ever live.
King Icarus.
Cassian spoke of him often.
On sleepless nights, he would sit beside Mortis' bed and tell stories—of a distant past where the sun never dimmed,where King Icarus ruled,and Cassian stood unwavering at his side.
Mortis would listen, wide-eyed, to every word.
Cassian never left him.
He followed him like a silent guardian.
When Mortis was younger, he thought everyone could see him.He thought Cassian was simply… part of his life.
Like an older brother.
But as he grew older—
he realized the truth.
Only he could see him.
You've returned, my Lord.You've come back.
Mortis woke with a sharp breath.
He was back.
Back in the other world.
Lying on a thin mattress beside Malachai, who was fast asleep, lost in dreams of his own.
But Mortis—
he couldn't sleep.
The exhaustion from earlier had vanished completely.
No matter how much he shifted or turned, sleep refused to come.
He glanced toward the window.
Still dark.
Maybe only an hour has passed.
He sighed. His throat burned.
I'm thirsty.
He pushed himself up and walked to the small table in the corner, where a clay jug rested.
Slowly, he poured water into a stone cup and drank.
A voice came from the darkness.
"My Lord."
Mortis flinched, nearly dropping the cup as water spilled down the front of his shirt.
He spun around—
Cassian?
No.
It was Malachai.
Awake.
Mortis exhaled in relief.
"Did I wake you?" he asked.
Malachai lay back down. "It's alright, my Lord. I thought you were… leaving."
"Leaving?" Mortis frowned. "Where would I go?"
Malachai hesitated. "Somewhere divine, perhaps. To the realm of the gods."
Mortis let out a quiet chuckle.
His gaze flickered briefly—
[Followers: 3]
"I'm not going there anytime soon."
Malachai visibly relaxed. "That's good, my Lord— I mean— I didn't—"
Mortis smiled faintly. "It's alright. I understand."
Malachai nodded, settling down again.
Silence stretched between them.
Then—
"My Lord… is something troubling you?"
Mortis shook his head.
A lie.
"Nothing of concern, Malachai."
Malachai stiffened slightly. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—"
Mortis cut him off gently.
"There's no need. Go back to sleep."
Malachai nodded and, within moments, drifted off once more.
Mortis stood there for a while, then set the cup down and returned to his mattress.
He lay down, closing his eyes.
Sleep began to creep in—
And then—
A voice brushed against his ear.
Soft.
Familiar.
Like a memory he had never lost.
Not threatening.
Not cold.
It felt like home.
I've found you, my Lord.
And then something flickered past his closed eyes.
A presence.
Gone as quickly as it came.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION!
You have gained a follower!
Followers: 4 ]
Mortis didn't open his eyes.
But for a moment—
he was sure he wasn't alone.