It was hopeless, so he didn’t think of it.
While at the settlent, he’d grown gloomy and despondent about his fate, even going as far as etching his desire to live into his chest, hoping it would serve as a reminder.
Hoping it would beco a beacon through which his burning will could fight against fate.
The sa beacon that now, ironically, had sealed his death in stone. The crucible ant to carry and let his hopes bloom had instead beco the blade that descended and severed his nape.
It was laughably ironic.
But he wasn’t the sa anymore. It was hopeless, yes, but it also didn’t matter.
’As long as I’m alive, I’m immortal. Only when I am dead will that be untrue.’ The motto he uttered in his mind made him chuckle, yet it also resonated deeply within his heart.
Life, death, immortality; he didn’t care anymore.
He was here, he was alive, and for now, that was enough.
"Alright, let’s go."
...
Uriel spent half an hour grooming himself, in no hurry or rush whatsoever, uncaring for anything other than relaxation.
Even the looming matter of his scar and the pillar of lightning didn’t seem to bother him much. He was entirely detached from it all.
Just like he had been at the beginning, back in the prison.
A while later, wearing dark grey tunics and with his hair neatly combed, he stepped out of his room and into the lounging area, smiling.
But imdiately, he was t with a scene that made his eyes narrow.
The sll of sweat and blood hung thick in the air, and whimpers echoed through the room, all the windows wide open to let gusts of wind stream in and sweep through.
Uriel’s gaze landed on a corner of the room, where Samael sat half-naked in a fetal position, whimpering and rocking back and forth as he whispered unintelligible words.
He clutched his head in his hands, his eyes red and filled with fear.
’What in the world happened?’
Uriel blinked towards the boy and lowered himself to a knee, extending a hand to grab Samael’s shoulder. But the mont his palm touched him—
"NO!" Samael scread, having only just realized Uriel had co out of his room.
He hadn’t even had ti to warn him about—
"Hey, buddy, you’re okay?" Uriel asked, his voice light, his face carrying a calm smile.
Samael’s eyes widened. "Y-you... you’re okay?"
Uriel looked at him. "I am," he confird. "But what’s going on? What happened to you? Did soone atta—"
"Wait!" Samael was in pure disbelief. "How are you able to touch ? How? I..."
His pupils trembled. "Am... am I real? Is this a dream? Who are you?"
Uriel tilted his head, montarily confused, but then he understood.
"Ah, I see." He nodded. "You awakened your spark, yes?"
Samael weakly nodded. "But I don’t know why it—... it feels like I can see everything, touch everything, sll everything. I feel like I’m a hive of infinite souls filled with—"
Before Samael could spiral further, Uriel patted his shoulder.
"It’s fine, I get it. Sensory Sparks are almost always overwhelming."
Uriel extended a hand. "Give your palm."
Samael hesitated. He still wasn’t sure if Uriel was real, or just one of the endless illusions tearing through his mind.
To him, the world had beco nothing but an endless hell of blue and erald flas, filled with a chaotic symphony of whispers and screams.
Across the vast expanse of flas, gigantic demons road, each more grotesque than the last, each as powerful as the divine.
He was surrounded by smaller demonic imps that constantly tore at his flesh, seeking to rip his soul away from him and—
PAH!
Seeing Samael wasn’t going to snap out of it, Uriel took matters into his own hands. He forcefully grabbed Samael’s hand, then let his newfound arcane knowledge manifest.
Runes flickered around him as he used resonant dominance, slipping into Samael’s psyche and forcefully severing the pathways of energy that kept his spark active.
In a mont, the burning ember within his core went to sleep, but Uriel didn’t stop there. The runes he had summoned assembled into a small formation that soared forward and etched itself onto Samael’s palm.
The boy blinked, and suddenly, he was back within the suite.
As if he had forgotten to breathe, he gasped for air, his vision spinning as he nearly passed out. His core was on the verge of depletion, and he could feel his entire body wracked with deep pain.
"That’s better."
Uriel tapped Samael’s forehead, and the primordial fabric of energy around him bent, seas of atmospheric aether forcefully drawn in and devoured by his nearly empty core.
In the span of a breath, Samael was back to full capacity, the ache in his body gone thanks to a simple recovery spell Uriel had cast.
He looked at the white-haired young man as if he were a monster. "You... you’re a real magus?!"
Uriel raised a brow. "I guess?"
"You said you only knew basic tricks! Are magi even greater than you are? How do I beco—"
Uriel sucked his teeth. "Shouldn’t you be thanking , little guy? I saved you from whatever was going on in your mind."
Samael’s face remained neutral. "I would’ve snapped out of it."
He looked down at his body, bloodied and covered in claw marks from where he had dug into his own skin, trying to rip his flesh off. It was quite grueso.
"Would you?" Uriel asked.
Samael nodded. "I would. Just a couple of scratches."
Uriel rolled his eyes, then stood to his feet. For so reason, Samael didn’t seem very ntally disturbed by what had just happened to him.
’It’s for the better anyway. Having a tough mind will help him in the long run.’ He paused. ’Or maybe it won’t.’
’The tougher, the more brittle. So maybe he’s actually easier to break.’ He humd. ’Am I tough?’
’Or am I so soft that I bend and thus can’t be broken?’
The question was idiotic, but it amused him. Still, he shrugged and let it slip from his mind. ’No matter.’
He threw Samael a glance. "Go wash up and put so clothes on."
"We’re going out to eat."
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