"...are all of them dead?"

Ezra was stunned by the question, the words hanging in the air longer than they should have.

But the more he looked at the boy’s eyes—really looked—the more he understood why he was asking.

Not for confirmation.

For something else.

Something heavier.

Which made Ezra frown slightly.

"Yes...yes, they are," Ezra answered slowly, drawing in a quiet breath before letting it out, his voice steady even if it didn’t feel that way inside.

He heard it then.

A choked sob.

Small at first.

Then breaking.

The boy covered his eyes with both hands, his shoulders trembling as the sound of his crying filled the room, raw and unrestrained.

"It’s all my fault...I did this...I..."

The words came out broken, uneven, barely holding together as guilt poured through every syllable.

Ezra’s expression tightened.

’...I know that tone,’ Ezra thought, something in his chest pulling painfully as he listened.

He was familiar with it.

Too familiar with his chest hurting.

So he took a breath.

Then another.

Steadying himself.

And he moved.

Slowly approaching the boy, careful not to startle him, careful not to make anything worse than it already was.

The cribs were still in the way, scattered, pushed together in a desperate attempt to create some kind of barrier.

Ezra reached out and began pulling them aside one by one.

Not rushed.

Not careless.

Each movement is deliberate.

Until the boy was no longer hidden.

Fully visible now.

A scrawny teen.

Too thin.

Too small for his age, which seemed to be between fourteen and sixteen.

His clothes were worn down, his shirt torn at the seams, dirt clinging to his skin like it had been there for days.

Ezra’s eyes lingered for a second.

’Not from here,’ he noted quietly. ’Or...not treated well, even if he was.’

"The villagers said there weren’t any kids here, and that this building was abandoned." Ezra begins, his tone gentler now, though still careful. "I hope you don’t mind me asking...did they abandon you here? Did you—"

"We aren’t from here."

The boy cut him off.

Still crying.

Still refusing to fully look at him, his hands lowering just slightly but not enough to uncover his face completely.

’I thought so.’

"Where are you from? And why were you here?"

The boy sniffled, his breathing uneven as he forced himself to speak again.

He finally looked up.

But not at Ezra.

Anywhere but the floor.

Anywhere but the bodies.

"We’re from a different village..." he says, his voice shaking. "We escaped from a different orphanage that was abusive. We’ve been living in the streets, but then someone told us that there was an orphanage here that treated children kindly..."

His words broke again.

"I’ve been taking care of them...I’ve tried so hard to take care of them..."

Ezra felt his chest tighten.

"And then what happened?" Ezra asks quietly, his gaze flickering down to the bodies for a brief moment before returning to the boy.

He needed to know.

He needed to understand.

Because this—

This didn’t make sense otherwise.

The boy’s breathing hitched again.

More tears.

"We came here...but we saw there were monsters...people were getting attacked, so we went inside this building," he says, his voice cracking under the weight of it. "I told them to go upstairs...I wanted to make sure that none of those monsters would come in,n but..."

Ezra’s eyes softened slightly.

He already knew where this was going.

"...when I came up, they were...they were already getting...ripped apart..."

The boy’s voice collapsed into itself.

"They were calling for my name...they were staring at me...they..."

More sobs.

Louder now.

And uncontrolled.

It hit something deep in Ezra.

Something he didn’t want to acknowledge.

"You don’t have to explain any—"

"The monsters were so engrossed in...hurting them they didn’t notice I was there until I was able to hide."

Ezra stopped speaking.

He just listened.

Then slowly—

He moved closer.

Closing the distance carefully before lowering himself to a kneel in front of the boy, making sure he wasn’t looming over him.

Making sure he didn’t feel cornered.

"What’s your name?" Ezra asks, his voice softer now, quieter than before.

The boy didn’t answer immediately.

He hesitated.

Li, Ke, even that felt difficult to give.

Like saying it out loud would make everything more real.

But after a moment—

"F-Fernando..."

Ezra nodded slightly.

"Fernando," Ezra repeats softly, grounding the name between them. "It may not be ideal, but I want to tell you that it’s not your fault."

Fernando’s expression didn’t change.

If anything—

It tightened.

His face pale, his lips trembling like he was holding back another wave of tears that was already breaking through.

"It is, though," Fernando says, his voice barely steady. "I let this happen."

Present...

’When he said he let it happen, in my mind...’ Ezra took a slow, steady breath, his gaze fixed on the ceiling but not really seeing it. ’...I took it as survivor’s guilt.’

It had been the most natural conclusion back then.

The easiest one.

The kind that didn’t require him to look any deeper than what was right in front of him.

Ezra was familiar with that feeling.

Especially when he was saved by Helios, taken to Sunspire, and later, when the thought of going back came to him.

Going back to the streets.

To the people he left behind.

To the friends he thought he could still reach.

’They could’ve been saved too,’ Ezra thought, his fingers curling slightly against the sheets. ’If I just...asked sooner. If I pushed harder.’

And when he finally did.

When he managed to convince Helios to maybe help them, to maybe give them a chance, to let them become knights too—

They were...gone.

Just like that.

No second chance.

No explanation made it easier to accept.

Just gone.

And it made him understand Fernando.

Made him recognize that broken tone, that crushing weight behind every word he said that day.

But now—

Now that memory didn’t sit the same way it used to.

Because now it wasn’t just Fernando.

It was Fizzy.

Ezra’s eyes slowly shifted, his focus returning as his thoughts moved forward.

After the incident, Fizzy had been adopted.

A kind woman from the village they saved had taken him in, given him a home, something stable, something safe.

Ezra remembered that clearly.

He remembered feeling relieved.

’At least one of them made it,’ Ezra had thought back then.

At least one of them didn’t end up like the others.

But then—

Fizzy came back.

Not just back.

He came back to Helios.

Begged, apparently.

Begged to work under Ezra as his aide.

At the time, Ezra didn’t question it.

Didn’t think it was strange.

If anything, it made sense.

’He wanted to stay close,’ Ezra thought back then. ’Maybe he just felt safer here.’

And Ezra let it be.

Didn’t dig deeper.

Didn’t ask why someone who had finally found a peaceful life would choose to come back into something as dangerous as this.

Didn’t ask why he would willingly return to the very world that almost got him killed.

Until now.

Now—

It didn’t sit right.

None of it did.

Ezra’s breathing slowed, but it felt heavier now, more deliberate as something in his chest tightened again.

There was one question.

One question that had never crossed his mind back then.

Not even once.

But now—

Now it wouldn’t leave him alone.

"How come the children didn’t turn into Dark Ones?"