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.

“I… I’m just tired. That’s all,” he murmured, hoping Lucian wouldn’t press further.

“I see…”

Cyrus didn’t want to admit the truth—the truth about why he didn’t want to talk in the carriage. If Lucian found out he felt embarrassed by the possibility of his uncle and sister overhearing their conversation, he’d see him as a coward.

“Is there perhaps another reason why you don’t want to talk right now?” Lucian asked.

Cyrus’s heart skipped a beat, a tremor of fear coursing through him. Did Lucian know? Had he figured it out?!

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Cyrus insisted, his voice unsteady.

“If you’re worried that someone might overhear us, there’s nothing to worry about,” Lucian said. “I conjured a sound barrier a few minutes ago.”

Wait, what did he just say?!

Cyrus’s eyes widened in shock. “H-How?!”

“How what?”

“How did you know what I was thinking? And since when can you use barrier magic?!”

The demon prince had to be a mind reader. There was no plausible way he could have known what was on Cyrus's mind.

“Ah, so I guessed correctly…” Lucian leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs. “I don’t know if you recall this, but before we sparred you mentioned your sister… I kind of figured she had something to do with why you didn’t want to talk.”

“Oh…”

Right before they sparred, Cyrus had warned Lucian to stay away from Nalia. Which he now realized was a mistake. He should have kept his big ugly mouth shut.

As Cyrus met Lucian’s gaze, he found himself momentarily captivated by the intensity of the demon prince’s eyes. For some reason, it felt like his eyes were somehow unraveling his secrets.

What am I doing?!

Feeling disturbed, Cyrus averted his gaze, focusing on anything but those freaking red eyes. He hated how he couldn’t shake the feeling of vulnerability whenever Lucian looked at him.

“So, are you going to tell me why you’re upset?”

“I’m not upset… I’m just annoyed…”

“Why?”

Cyrus cleared his throat. "I’ll tell you the truth only if you tell me how you learned barrier magic.

Lucian shook his head. “That wasn’t part of our agreement, remember?”

While the prince made a valid point, Cyrus had no intention of divulging the full truth. Or at least not yet. Nonetheless, he was a Heldros, and a Heldros always honored his word. It was a principle instilled in him by his father.

“I don’t trust you,” Cyrus confessed. “I know you’ve done a lot for my family, and I’m grateful. I really am. But it’s just… unsettling how you’re always around my family these days.”

For a moment, Lucian didn’t speak or move. His face was unreadable.

Just when Cyrus thought he might have spoken too bluntly, Lucian let out a chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” Cyrus asked.

Lucian smiled and patted Cyrus on the shoulder. “You and I are very alike. More alike than you realize.”

Cyrus stood there, stunned. He hadn’t expected such a response from Lucian. If there were roles were reversed, he would have reacted differently.

“I’ll give it to you straight,” Lucian said, his voice taking on a more serious tone. “I didn’t save you or your sister out of the kindness of my heart. The only reason I did it was to persuade your uncle to serve me.”

Cyrus was left speechless. Lucian’s blatant confession caught him off guard.

From a young age, Cyrus had witnessed the popularity of his uncle. He had seen countless aspiring warriors flock to their estate, all seeking his uncle’s renowned sword technique. Which he suspected Lucian wanted as well.

The demonstration his uncle had shown Lucian earlier only served to confirm Cyrus’s suspicions.

What Cyrus hadn’t anticipated was for Lucian to be so honest. He could have never imagined that the demon prince would confess so easily.

“Why… Why are you confessing all of a sudden?!”

“I just thought it was the right thing to do.”

Cyrus clenched his fists. Nothing was making sense. Lucian’s actions were completely out of the scope of what he’d been expecting. If he were to equate this to a game of chess, every time he thought he was getting somewhere, Lucian would make a move that would change the entire dynamic. It was like he was always ten steps ahead.

As Cyrus pondered on his next move, an idea suddenly popped into his head. If Lucian was truly being transparent, maybe this was his chance to get some answers.

“There’s something I want to ask you if that’s alright.”

Lucian nodded. “Ask away.”

“How did you get so strong?”

Cyrus couldn’t shake off the unease he felt after their sparring match. The strength and skills Lucian had displayed were otherwordly. It was the first time in his life he’d been bested by someone of his age, or rather, someone younger.

Cyrus had always believed he was a prodigy. That’s what he had been told for many years. However, his fight with the prince had shattered that belief.

It all happened a few years back when he and his sister were playing in their family’s garden. They were playing tag when suddenly, Nalia was attacked by a wild dog. In a moment of fear, Cyrus conjured a wind projectile and slayed the wild beast, saving his sister from harm. He was only eight at the time.

From that day on, Cyrus became the prized possession of his family. His father, recognizing the gift within him, made it his mission to nurture Cyrus’s abilities. Day after day, Cyrus found himself immersed in training, pushing himself to the limit in pursuit of mastering his newfound talents. That had been his life until the demons destroyed his home. The rest became history.

“I wouldn’t say I’m strong,” Lucian said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “But to answer your question, I’ve been training for a long time.”

“I guess the rumors are true,” Cyrus chuckled.

Lucian raised a brow. “What rumors?”

“The rumors of how demon children start training at a very young age.”

“Is that what you were told?”

Cyrus nodded his head. “I’m familiar with some aspects of this world’s code of law... Seeing how strong you are, I’m guessing you’re gunning to inherit your father’s throne one day…”

Cyrus was well aware of the laws that governed Azurax. In its essence, it was a society dictated by combat prowess, where one’s strength dictated their social standing. There were two ways a demon could climb the social ladder. The first path involved growing strong enough to challenge a demon lord and ascend the noble hierarchy. The second was to swear fealty to a noble house and climb the ranks as a soldier. If you were strong enough, you could even become a knight.

Lucian propped his hand against the window and sighed. “Power is very important in Azurax. It’s what governs this corrupt world… But to answer your question, I have no interest in the throne.”

Cyrus blinked in confusion, his mind struggling to process Lucian’s words. The idea seemed incomprehensible to him.

Lucian was undeniably powerful, his strength evident in the way he carried himself. The amount of training he must have done to become that strong was unfathomable. In Cyrus’s eyes, the throne was the only conceivable reason for a child to undergo such relentless training.

“Then why?” Cyrus asked, unable to contain his curiosity. “What could you possibly want with such strength if not the throne?”

The demon prince regarded him with an inscrutable expression, his gaze piercing through Cyrus like a blade. “If I answer your question, you’ll understand why I need your uncle’s help… Do you truly wish to know?”

A shiver crept up Cyrus’s spine as the temperature in the carriage inexplicably dropped.

“Yes! I want to know.”

“Fine…” Lucian replied calmly. “It’s because I want to kill my father.”

The moment the words left his lips, Cyrus felt a jolt of terror course through his veins. It was as though a dark cloud of murderous intent had enveloped him. He could feel the hairs on his neck lifting as a drop of sweat fell across his brow.

Glancing down at his trembling hands, Cyrus felt a wave of fear wash over him. He tried to steady them by pressing them against his chest, but his heart was pounding so fiercely against his ribs that it only served to amplify his fear. It was a sensation, unlike anything he had ever experienced.

Lucian Darkbourn… What in the world are you?!?