Chapter Text
“Are you sure you want to do this now?” the Herald asked, his voice calm, yet carrying a light, teasing tone. His gaze swept over Jayce, eyes soft with something resembling concern. “You still look pretty terrible.”
“I said NOW,” Jayce snapped, his jaw tightening as a flush of irritation crept up his neck.
The Herald raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “Very well,” he purred, “I am glad you are finally listening.”
Jayce’s eyes narrowed. “No,” he cut in sharply. “We are doing this my way. I ask, you answer.”
“Of course,” the Herald said smoothly, inclining his head as he lifted his tea to his lips. His face softened into that infuriatingly warm, affectionate smile.
Jayce hated that smile.
“This... evolution,” he began, his voice heavy with the thoughts that had troubled him through countless sleepless nights. His jaw tightened as he finally forced the question out. “Why are you doing this?”
The Herald’s gaze turned distant, his voice softened to a reflective murmur. “There is one thing I learned when we parted our ways.”
Jayce collapsed, knees sinking quietly into the cold floor of the laboratory.
His body trembled, shoulders shaking as soft, strangled sobs escaped him.
He wrapped his arms around himself, trying to hold onto the lingering sensation of the embrace that had been there moments ago.
But it was useless.
The sensation fled like a stolen breath.
His lips moved, forming pleas, the words were broken, incoherent, meaningless.
To whom? For what?
His eyes darted between the empty cocoon and the quiet hallway, the silence pressing down on him like a physical weight.
His chest rose and fell sharply, each breath a struggle, as if the very air had turned thick and heavy.
His nails dug into his palms, the brief, sharp sting offering no real comfort before the quiet sobs came again, persistent and crushing.
Jayce shook his head, trying to push away the univited flashback and the growing headache. His breathing quickened, hands trembling as they pressed against the desk, fingers digging into the wood.
The Herald’s voice broke through softly, almost tender. “There is so much unnecessary pain in the world, Jayce. And now, we have the power to change that.”
Jayce twisted his hands together, clenching tightly to steady them. His voice held firm despite the tremor in his chest. “What about choices?”
Jayce paced the room, his footsteps sharp and uneven, the sound echoing in the tense silence.
Mel’s suggestions swirled in his mind.
He glanced at Viktor, who sat with his back turned, still as stone, his posture cold and distant.
But the garment he wore looked so fluffy and warm, it almost resembled a comfort blanket. It must have been soft to the touch.
Jayce’s fingers twitched, a small, involuntary motion, the urge to reach out to him like a painful pull in his chest.
Viktor remained unmoving, a wall of silence between them.
Instead, Jayce’s hands clenched, then loosened.
He rubbed them together, the motion mechanical, almost desperate.
The action did nothing to ease the tight knot of discomfort churning in his stomach.
He paced again.
The Herald reached for him, taking his shaking hand. His grip was gentle yet firm, too firm. It held steady when Jayce instinctively tried to pull away. The pressure grew, skirting the edge of pain.
“Your choices almost cost you your life,” the Herald said, his voice laced with quiet reprimand.
“Promise me you will destroy it.”
Jayce hesitated, anger bubbling beneath his skin, his fists clenching at his sides.
His jaw tightened, muscles coiling as the urge to fight, to push back, surged through him.
He wanted to grab Viktor by the shoulders, to shake him.
But as he looked at Viktor, his resolve faltered.
Viktor’s shoulders slumped, his eyes hollow with exhaustion, as if a single breath could undo him.
Jayce’s heart twisted. With a reluctant, almost imperceptible nod, he made the promise.
Jayce’s eyes narrowed at the Herald defensively, his posture stiffening as he pulled his hand back. The Herald released his grip, and Jayce quickly retreated his hands, hiding them beneath the table.
"If this is so important," Jayce demanded, his voice sharp. Sweat beaded on his forehead as the headache intensified. "Why would you willingly wait for me?"
“Because,” the Herald said, his smile softening, “to achieve the perfect evolution, you are necessary.”
Jayce leaned forward, his brow furrowing in suspicion. “Why?”
The Herald’s gaze shifted, “I cannot tell you,” he admitted, his voice low, almost apologetic. He shook his head slightly, as if burdened by the weight of his own words. “Not until you truly believe it.”
Jayce clenched his fists.
The roar of the crowd hammered against his skull, each shout a dull throb in his ears, but his frustration lay elsewhere.
Viktor refused to speak with him further.
Jayce could feel it, a tight coil of unease in his gut—Viktor was hiding something.
Jayce’s suspicion lingered, but he pushed it aside. “What makes you so certain I will believe it?” He clenched his teeth.
“You are a scientist, Jayce,” the Herald replied with a knowing chuckle, his eyes glinting. “You just need to see the evidences.”
“Jayce?”
The whisper barely registered as he pored over the script, dissecting every line.
What if this is too complicated?
What if he missed something?
What if they don’t think it’s worth investing?
“Jayce—” A pair of hands tugged the papers from his grasp, followed by a gentle tap on his head.
“Just show them the prototype,” the voice said, teasing yet warm.
His body froze from the unexpected, rare touch.
Instinctively, he leaned into it, chasing the brief comfort.
But the touch was light and fleeting, gone in a moment, leaving only the absence of its warmth.
He turned, and the other man had already left the room.
Jayce's ears rang with a sharp, buzzing hum from the flashback.
The Herald’s smile faded, his brows furrowing. “Deep down, you already know the reasons," he said softly.
Without that damned smile, his face suddenly looked all too familiar. Jayce quickly averted his gaze, staring down at his hands resting on his thighs. They shook, despite how tightly he squeezed them.
"You have suffered enough, Jayce,” The Herald continued, his voice almost a whisper.
The wind whispered to him.
Jayce stood at the edge of the platform, his hand trembling.
Gravity pulled at him, urging him forward.
The wind whispered again, seductive and soft—how easy it would be to lean in, to let go.
“Let me help you, Jayce.”
Jayce’s heart pounded in his chest, each beat loud and frantic in the stillness. He remained silent, his breath shallow.
That assistant was beside him, speaking softly, the words wrapping around him like a gentle embrace.
Too many words.
He could hear the warmth in the voice, the comforting rhythm, but the meaning?
It blurred into a soothing hum, a quiet, constant presence that filled the space around him, calming and unhurried.
The Herald reached out, his cool hand brushing Jayce’s burning cheek. The touch was soothing. Jayce didn’t move.
His mind slowly began to catch up, the words sharpening into focus.
Could this be?
Could he mean it?
For the first time in so long, Jayce felt a spark of warmth.
Was it hope?
The world around him seemed to gain color, as if something deep inside him was coming to life.
His heart raced, a tight knot forming in his chest, and for that brief moment, he let himself meet those eyes—
The Herald’s hand tilted Jayce’s chin upward, guiding his gaze to meet his own.
These eyes before him were beautiful, yet too sharp, too false, too cold.
Those are the brightest, warmest eyes he had ever seen.
They burned into his soul like fire, searing through every layer of doubt and fear.
Jayce snapped the Herald’s wrist, pulling his hand sharply away from his face. His voice trembled but held firm. “Then you had better work harder. There’s a lot to fix.”
The Herald froze, momentarily caught off guard, before a soft chuckle escaped him. “Still as stubborn as ever.”
Jayce stood, releasing the Herald’s hand with a quick, almost dismissive motion.
As he turned, Jayce noticed the girl they had met this morning peeking through the doorway, her eyes wide with curiosity. Catching the tail end of their conversation, she stepped in eagerly.
“What about this?” she asked, holding out another piece of fabric. At first glance, it seemed simple—black, sleek—but as Jayce looked closer, intricate patterns in deep blue and red began to emerge in the folds of the cloth.
Jayce ran his fingers over the fabric, his touch light but deliberate. If he had a choice, he would have preferred it without the intricate pattern, but it would suffice. As a mourning dress, it served its purpose. He patted the girl’s head lightly as he took it from her, a brief, almost absent gesture of gratitude.
If the Herald wanted to play this game, he would play along. Jayce would waste his time and sabotage his plan, even if it cost him a lifetime.