"Do you yield, bore?" I asked, my breath steady with ease.

  At last. Thirteen months of blood, sweat, and sleepless nights—all for this.

  "Yes, I do," he conceded between ragged breaths. "And stop calling me that!"

  The battle was won. The door was unbarred. And yet—why did I not feel the elation I had so long imagined? A strange quiet coiled in my chest, filling the space where triumph should have been. I exhaled slowly and fell to my knees. "Ah… And just like that, my purpose is gone yet again," I murmured.

  The bore, though exhausted beyond measure, did not collapse as I had. Instead, he strode toward me, the heavy weight of his steps a stark contrast to the lightness of his tone. Without a word, he knelt beside me, his fingers slipping past the veil of my cloak to ruffle my hair. A warmth I had not anticipated spread through me at the contact.

  "It was no trifling feat, you know," he said, a grin splitting his weary face. "I am among the strongest of the Boshafts. I stand just beneath Chara, Barret, and the King himself, oh, and now you too. And yet, here you stand—no, kneel—having overcome me. You trained without rest for more than a year. Be proud, Zilar. You didn’t just win—you crushed me."

  His words should have stirred triumph within me, but all I could feel was the vast expanse of uncertainty stretching before me. "I do not know why I exist," I admitted, my voice cracked, my thoughts a tangled web. I clenched my fists. "I grasp at purpose only to have it slip through my fingers like sand."

  Fane scoffed, scratching his head. "Hah, and you call me a bore." He shook his head, exhaling a quiet sigh. "Listen well, for I will not say this twice—life might seem long now, but in truth, it is terribly short. We do not live to serve a purpose; rather, we live to seek one. To find what it is that keeps us from vanishing into the abyss."

  "What he says is true," came a voice from behind me—light, lilting, amused. "Though I never expected you, of all people, to say something so profound."

  Chara.

  I turned to find her grinning, her fingers half-covering her mouth as though trying—and failing—to stifle laughter.

  "Listen to me, Zilar," she said, stepping closer. "Even if you do not, yet, know what to do with your life—live. Yes, you had no say in your birth, but the right to live, to savor existence? The only one who can give consent to that—is you. Do not cast it away."

  My vision blurred. A lump formed in my throat, and I dipped my head to hide the tears threatening to spill. I heard the twins exhale softly, their presence a quiet comfort.

  Chara was the first to break the silence. "The first thing you should do is visit Agora."

  "You must have amassed a fortune from the Crimson Crucible," the bore added. "No use hoarding all that gold like a miser. Go wild for once."

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  I had wondered what to do with all that gold. Perhaps, for once, I would indulge.

  "So," I hesitated. "Do you two have any plans for tomorrow?"

  The twins exchanged glances before erupting into laughter.

  "We will tag along."

  The Agora was a living, breathing riot of color and sound. Vendors bellowed over one another, their voices clashing like blades, while the scent of spiced meats curled thick in the air. Sand crunched underfoot as bodies pressed past, the marketplace pulsing like a heartbeat.

  Chara pulled me toward a stall lined with flowing garments, her eyes alight with mischief. "Zilar, your hair has grown too long," she chided, fingering a lock of my pale pink strands inside the cloak. "It reaches your hips now. You need a tainia—a proper headband."

  Under her guidance, I purchased a deep-hued chiton, its fabric whispering against my skin like a long-forgotten dream. A matching tainia followed, its embroidery delicate and intricate. I found myself lingering at each stall, letting the weight of silver slip from my hands in exchange for fine cloth and silver-threaded garments. The act of spending—of indulging—was strange, yet not unwelcome.

  We moved on to food. Souvlaki—succulent beast meat, grilled to perfection. Koulouri—bread kissed with sesame and crisped to golden delight. Bougatsa—a pastry filled with soft, melting cheese. I bought enough for all of us, watching with a peculiar sense of satisfaction as Chara and the bore tore into their meals with unrestrained hunger.

  "I must admit," I said at last, watching them between bites, "you both are… different from what Boshafts are usually described as."

  The twins burst into laughter.

  "You are as intelligent as you are oblivious," the bore snickered. "You have been with us for a year, and only now do you ask this?"

  I shot him a glare, but he only grinned wider.

  Chara sighed, her expression shifting from mirth to something more subdued. She hesitated, fingers tightening around the fabric of her sleeve. "When we were children, our father, Fidi, and our mother would argue—vicious, bloodied arguments that ended in violence. And when they were tired of fighting each other, their attention turned to us."

  Her voice was steady, but I could sense the weight behind it.

  The bore let out a slow breath, his usual sharpness dimmed. "We were born three," he continued, his voice quieter than usual. "Triplets. But our eldest brother… he couldn’t suppress it. The instinct. When it took over, he did what every other kid had done—he killed our mother."

  “Fidi didn’t hesitate,” Chara added, voice thin. “He disposed of him.”

  I remained silent, absorbing their words.

  "That moment changed everything," Chara continued. "We realized then that we were not like the others. We enjoyed battle, yes, but not slaughter. We mocked, we jested—but never with malice. We resisted the pull of our instincts, fought against the hunger that consumed the others of our kind. It was never about right or wrong. It was simply about being… ourselves."

  She turned to me then, her touch featherlight as she rested a hand atop my head covered in cloak. "And when we are with you, Zilar, we feel at peace. We are no longer on edge, no longer battling our own nature. With you, we are simply who we wish to be."

  I searched for words, but found none.

  Back in Edel, I had never been one to comfort. No one had ever shared their burdens with me, nor had any book taught me how to respond.

  “I… I’ve never had friends before,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "But if I could be anything—anything at all—I would want to be someone who eases your burdens, because… you both are my first."

  Chara and the bore looked at one another, something unspoken passing between them. Then, they grinned—wide and bright, unburdened and true.

  "You already have, Zilar."