She taught him obedience, but he was learning silence.
The night was deep.
Candlelight trembled across the walls. The room was so still, the wind threading past the window frame could be heard like a breath no one dared to exhale.
Elric sat at the edge of the bed.
Fresh clothes.
Hair dry.
Composed.
But there was a quiet stillness in his back—
not peace,
just control.
**
Elena walked in with a bowl of porridge. Her voice barely stirred the air.
"Eat a little. While it's warm."
He didn't look up.
His eyes stayed on the window, fixed on nothing, or something far beyond it.
She sat beside him. Her voice, as always, was soft:
"You've been through a lot. It's alright… it'll pass."
"For people like us, this world has rules."
She paused, searching for gentler words.
Like she didn't want to break something already close to cracking.
"You need to follow the current.
Don't ask too many whys.
Don't always try to resist."
"As long as you're still breathing,
things will find their way to change."
**
Elric listened.
He didn't speak.
But his fingers curled slightly, gripping the edge of the blanket—so slight, it barely showed.
He remembered the dock lights that night.
The voices calling his name.
The car door that closed without a sound.
He understood that his mother was trying to protect him.
He even agreed—on the surface.
But in his chest, something else knew:
Not everyone who obeys gets to survive.
**
He turned to look at her.
She looked tired.
But her eyes remained gentle—
as if she was using every bit of strength to hold together a quiet world
where disappointment hadn't arrived yet.
He didn't argue.
Didn't defy.
Just nodded.
A small one.
She exhaled quietly.
Pushed the bowl a little closer.
He picked it up.
Took a few silent sips.
Put it down.
And inside, without a sound, a sentence buried itself like a seed:
I'll live the way you ask—
for now.
But one day… I'll live by my own rules.
—
[Chapter Prologue]
She gave him obedience to survive.
But something deeper had already begun to grow—
quiet, watchful, and untamed.