As the last drop of Seiya’s blood ceased to fall, Kaeliyus lifted his mouth slightly, his tongue flicking out to delicately trace the wound. Seiya recoiled instantly, withdrawing his hand in disgust.
Though the ritual had ended, and Seiya had already pulled away, Kaeliyus remained kneeling on the floor, his head tilted back, eyes staring blankly into nothingness. His gaze shimmered with an unsettling delight, bordering on pleasure.
"Ah…" he exhaled, a thin veil of mist escaping his lips. The sensation coursing through his veins was indescribable, known only to him who reveled in its intensity.
Hayne’s brow twitched at Kaeliyus’ dramatic display, yet he found himself unable to interrupt.
It was only when Seiya spoke that Kaeliyus snapped out of his trance.
"Let’s go," Seiya said, striding forward without waiting for them.
Kaeliyus immediately rose to his feet, bowing in response to Seiya’s words—a command, in his mind, rather than a demand. Hayne, however, remained still, his gaze lingering on Kaeliyus, who still bore the intoxicated glow of the covenant. He couldn’t help but wonder—what could possibly be so exhilarating about it?
Sensing Hayne’s unspoken question, Kaeliyus smirked. "Too bad you’ll never know this feeling," he murmured, his words laced with taunting satisfaction. Hayne’s brow twitched further.
"This sensation… agh!" Kaeliyus shuddered, wrapping his arms around himself. "The young Lord’s blood—it’s more divine than I ever imagined. It courses through me like the soft touch of a feather down my spine, sending shivers, raising every hair… Oh, to be cherished by the young Lord." He sank further into his delusions.
Hayne narrowed his eyes—questioning which Young Lord he was on about exactly? Because the Seiya he knows could barely muster care for himself, let alone offer affection to another.
Hayne sighed, turning away. But as he took his first step, Kaeliyus seized his wrist.
Hayne’s breath hitched, a flicker of unease creeping into him because Seiya was out of sight. If Kaeliyus meant harm, there was no one to stop him.
Leaning in close, Kaeliyus whispered, his breath brushing against Hayne’s ear. "You may have been the one to find him…" His gaze bored into Hayne’s. "But I will be the one to nurture him." His tone was firm, absolute. With that, he released Hayne and strode after Seiya.
I didn’t find him though, Hayne thought with a blank stare as he watched him go. His parents did. He added and hurried after them to catch up.
Upon returning to the house Hayne’s uncle had lent them, they found it exactly as they had left it—messy, untouched.
Kaeliyus’ gaze flicked around before landing on Hayne, the disdain in his expression painfully clear: ’Is this the wretched place you force my Lord to live in?’
Hayne averted his gaze, forcing an awkward smile.
Ignoring him, Kaeliyus strode toward Seiya’s elite, who rose at their arrival. Kaeliyus’ sharp eyes scrutinized the silent figure. "And who might this be?" he asked, scanning the elite from head to toe.
"Oh, he’s one of Seiya’s allies," Hayne replied. "Just like you."
Kaeliyus’ expression darkened. Just like me? His jaw tightened at the thought that someone else had already sworn loyalty to Seiya before him. His irritation deepened as the elite simply stood there, unmoving and unblinking, unfazed by his presence.
"Oh, right," Hayne gestured toward the elite’s broken wrists. "You should heal him too. His wrists are broken."
Kaeliyus scoffed. "Pass."
"Really?" Hayne quirked a brow. "But he’s one of your ’Lord’s’ men." He made sure to emphasize the word.
Kaeliyus glanced at Seiya, who offered no reaction, then sighed. Reluctantly, he materialized the same phial. "Stretch out your hands," he ordered.
The elite complied without hesitation and without warning, Kaeliyus extended his claw-like nails and raked them down both of the elite’s wrists. Hayne flinched, startled. But before he could protest, Kaeliyus calmly poured the healing potion over the fresh wounds.
As the liquid seeped in, the injuries mended—bones setting back into place, and flesh seamlessly knitting together. The elite rolled his wrists, testing their restored strength.
Hayne exhaled in relief, seeing Kaeliyus had merely done that to ensure the potion’s effectiveness, nothing more.
Shifting his gaze to the elite, Hayne asked. "How’s it?"
The elite said nothing, merely gazing back at Hayne like he didn’t just hear him talk.
Annoyed, Hayne turned to Seiya, eyes silently pleading for him to ask instead.
Not thinking much of it, Seiya turned his gaze to the elite and asked. "How’s it?"
"It’s fine," the elite answered immediately and Seiya turned his gaze back at Hayne like: ’there.’
Hayne’s brow twitched, a tense smile on his lips. So he answers to Seiya, but not to me.
Shaking his head, Hayne turned to leave. But as he reached the door, he hesitated, remembering something so he turned back.
"Oh right. Have the elite’s tracker removed," he instructed, glancing between Seiya and Kaeliyus—both not uttering a word.
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"Please?" Hayne added, exasperated. "While I deal with things inside." Hayne needed to take care of things regarding Seiya’s mother who was still laying lifeless in the room.
Approaching the elite, Hayne asked, "Where’s your tracker?"
Unlike theirs where it was located on their arms, he couldn’t just assume it would be the same for the elites.
But the elite, yet again, offered no response to Hayne.
Hayne sighed, looking back at Seiya for help.
Turning to the elite, Seiya could already see where his tracker was located but he asked regardless. "Where?" He asked curtly.
"The back of my head," the elite responded immediately and Hayne’s brow twitched again. He wondered if the elite held something against him. Plus, why the hell would they install the tracker in their heads?!!!
Kaeliyus, observing from the side, said nothing. He didn’t understand everything, but he knew this was another piece of his young Lord’s dark past—one Hayne refused to share with him.
"Anyways, you two please work together and get it out somehow. We don’t want extra trouble locating us." With that, Hayne walked out on them.
Seiya’s gaze turned to Kaeliyus who immediately nodded in a bow. "I’ll get it right out, my Lord."
"Back of his head, but where?" Kaeliyus asked in wonder, standing behind the elite who sat on the couch.
Seiya made to talk but the elite took his hand up to point exactly where it was.
"Alright then. I’ll gently tear it open and heal you immediately I get it out. Because you mortals can be weak," Kaeliyus commented and proceeded to do it.
After removing the tracker and healing the elite, Kaeliyus followed the path Hayne had taken. He found him in a room, quietly tidying up—a futile effort against the stains of dried blood that marred every surface.
On the bed, draped in red, lay a woman, her form eerily calm despite the unsettling surroundings.
Kaeliyus stepped inside without invitation, his gaze settling on the lifeless figure. He inhaled deeply before remarking, "So this is the source of the blood I’ve been smelling."
Hayne glanced at him briefly but said nothing, shifting back his focus to his task.
Kaeliyus studied the woman in silence before asking, "Who is she?"
"Seiya’s mother," Hayne answered without a second wasted.
At those words, Kaeliyus’ expression twisted, his face tightening with barely concealed disdain. His gaze lingered on her, cold and contemptuous.
Noting this, Hayne pondered why? Why would he look upon the woman who bore the one he calls ’Lord’ with such loathing?
"She is, though," Hayne reaffirmed, as if testing Kaeliyus’ reaction.
For a moment, Kaeliyus remained silent, then, as if dismissing a fleeting thought, his expression loosened. "I suppose," he muttered, noncommittal.
Hayne expected him to ask more—to inquire about her death, to demand details of what had transpired. But Kaeliyus merely turned on his heel and left, offering not even a backward glance.
Hayne watched him go, a flicker of irritation crossing his face before he sighed and resumed his work.
A part of Hayne wasn’t sure how to feel. He didn’t know if he should be glad that Seiya hasn’t yet formed any connection with his mother, hence unable to grief the pain of her loss—or if he should be fearful of the day Seiya’s memories would return—when the overwhelming pain would finally catch up to him which would be devastating.
When Hayne finished cleaning the room, he stepped toward the bed where Seiya’s mother lay motionless. With careful hands, he adjusted her body before reaching for the cloth to cover her. But just as he was about to pull it over her face, a glimmer at her neck caught his eye, stopping him mid-motion.
Lowering the cloth to her chest, he gently brushed aside her hair, revealing a pendant resting against her skin. Slowly, he opened it. Inside, a tiny photograph of Seiya as a child stared back at him—his burgundy hair gleamed, his smile radiant as he nestled in his mother’s embrace. On the opposite side, another image—Seiya alongside his two older siblings.
Hayne exhaled softly, his fingers lingering over the pendant before he carefully unfastened it and removed it from her neck. Then, with a final glance, he drew the white cloth over her face. With no family present to mourn her, and no means to perform the proper rites, he resolved to wait for nightfall. He would do for her what they had done for Suhei—shouldering the weight of the ritual himself, and being the anchor that keeps her resting deep within the depths of the water.
Stepping away from the bed, he stood in silence, gazing down at the lifeless form before him. His grip tightened around the pendant, his head slowly bowing under the weight of silent grief.
As sorrow settled over him, a sudden shift in the air sent a chill down his spine as he felt a heavy, oppressive presence loom behind him.
Hayne stiffened. Then, snapping out of his daze, he turned sharply—only to find Kaeliyus standing there.
He exhaled a quiet breath of relief. "Don’t creep up on me like that," he muttered, turning back to the woman.
Kaeliyus remained silent as he stepped forward, his movements slow and deliberate. "Tell me," he said at last, his voice low and steady.
"I heard some people were sent here to eliminate her," he continued, his gaze locked onto Hayne. "Is that true?"
Hayne gave a slight nod. "Mn."
Kaeliyus’ eyes darkened. "But… isn’t it odd?"
Hayne turned to him, brow furrowing.
"That you sent my Lord and his servant away, on that particular day" Kaeliyus murmured, his tone edged with accusation. "And upon their return… they meet his mother dead—with you, somehow, still clinging onto life."
His stare grew colder, sharper, as he took a step closer.
Hayne’s eyes widened slightly before narrowing, his expression hardening. "What are you trying to say?"
Kaeliyus exhaled, his patience wearing thin. "Fine. No need to dance around it."
He closed the distance between them, looming over Hayne, his presence casting a long shadow. His gaze held nothing but contempt.
"I’m asking," Kaeliyus said, his voice steady and sharp, "what exactly are you plotting against my Lord… while pretending to be all sweet and innocent?"
