The Remnant

Chapter 67

Cyrus Heldros

From the first moment he looked at Lucian, Cyrus knew he was different. The way he walked, talked, and acted seemed almost rehearsed. Maybe even fake. He was nothing like an ordinary nine-year-old.

Lucian had secrets. Many secrets. Cyrus could feel it in his bones. Though he couldn't prove it, he was willing to bet his life on it. Which was why he had zero trust in him.

Cyrus could spend an eternity listing all the things he didn't like about Lucian. But the one thing he truly disliked was his gaze. He always seemed to have this cold and calculated look in his eyes. It was distant. As if his focus was elsewhere, on some faraway goal. Perhaps that would explain why he blanked out so often.

The demon prince wasn't the only one harboring secrets. Within Cyrus's mind, the memory of his parents' deaths lingered like an unrelenting specter, casting a dark shadow over his soul.

He vividly remembered the face of the demon who'd slaughtered his parents in cold blood. The look of pleasure in his eyes as he slit his mother's throat was something Cyrus couldn't unsee.

Ever since that day, he swore he'd kill that demon with his bare hands. Even when he and his sister were torn from their home and forced into slavery, his resolve remained unyielding. Nothing would stop him from getting revenge.

Life as a slave hadn't been easy. Nevertheless, Cyrus quickly grew accustomed to the harsh reality. Even though he was only ten, he'd been forced to mature for his sister's sake. She was all he had left in this world. He was willing to do anything to protect her.

Without hesitation, Cyrus became Nalia's shield, sacrificing his well-being to shelter her from the brutality of their circumstances. Whether it was sharing his rations or deliberately provoking the guards so they'd beat him instead, Cyrus's sole priority became his sister. Yes, he wanted nothing more than to get revenge, but his sister came first.

Keeping his sister safe was by no means easy. It came at a great cost. Whenever he wanted to cry or give up, he would find solace in his sister's embrace.

Cyrus found validation and purpose in his sister's gaze. Whenever he looked into her eyes, he sensed her admiration for him. She idolized him, and that meant the world to him. He was her hero, and she was his muse.

However, that all came to an end the day Lucian showed up.

In the blink of an eye, Nalia's adoration shifted entirely towards the demon prince. It felt as though she'd erased all the sacrifices Cyrus had made for her, replacing them with an irrational wonder for Lucian. A boy she'd just met.

Cyrus couldn't deny the debt of gratitude he owed Lucian. Without his help, he and Nalia would still be slaves, their reunion with their uncle an impossible dream.

Despite all that, Cyrus couldn't shake the growing envy he felt for the prince. Not a day would pass when Nalia didn't remind him how amazing Lucian was, leaving him grappling with a bitter sting in his mouth.

"I think we should talk," Lucian said, bringing Cyrus out of his thoughts.

"Talk about what?"

Lucian scratched the back of his head and chuckled. "You haven't forgotten your promise, have you?"

Cyrus rolled his eyes. "I have every intention of honoring my promise. I just don't think this is the right time or place."

"I disagree," Lucian said, crossing his arms. "We won't be reaching the city for at least another hour. This is the time to talk."

Cyrus felt the weight of the impending conversation settling on his shoulders like a heavy shroud.

"You look a little pale... Is everything alright?" A flicker of concern crossed Lucian's face.