CHAPTER 83: REBIRTH

The silence was absolute.

Noah sat slumped against the wall, the chains still biting into his wrists, the cold bands a reminder of how utterly powerless he had become.

In that endless darkness, the only sound was his own heartbeat.

It was slow, heavy, as if it too were being dragged into the void that clawed at him from within.

Each thump reverberated in his skull, mocking him, reminding him that life still clung stubbornly to his body even as he felt it slipping away, thread by fragile thread.

He was weak, so weak it felt as if even drawing breath was a battle he was steadily losing.

Every day, he could feel the tether fraying thinner. Every day, Oblivion crept closer, whispering for him to surrender, to let go, to vanish into nothingness.

If things continued like this, he would die soon. He could feel it in his bones, in the slow withering of his soul.

But he couldn’t let himself go. Not yet. Not while hatred still burned brightly in his chest.

His mind tormented him, dragging him through old memories as if to test how much more he could endure.

He remembered Earth.

The endless suffering after the death of his parents.

The way the chains of poverty had held him so tight, refusing to let go. The way it had become a brand that he couldn’t erase no matter how he dressed or spoke.

The mockery of those who believed they were better. The rich. The elite. The way they looked at him.

He could never forget it.

He remembered Camelot.

The sneers of nobles at his supposed potential on that day he had been awakened.

The contempt of his peers as he made his attempt at changing the narrative for those stuck at the bottom of the hierarchy.

The cruelty of professors who looked away when he was faced with difficulties they could keep away with a wave of a hand.

The Royal Academy itself for creating a breeding ground for bullies and tyrants. A place where the weak can be treated upon in the name of learning.

And now, this. This endless darkness, where his tormentor’s face flashed before his eyes every time he closed them.

A sound broke the silence. Noah flinched, his body so sensitive to any disturbance after days of nothingness that it felt like knives digging into his ears.

Then, suddenly, light burst into the room. He winced violently, his eyes burning, unused to anything but black.

He tried to shield them, but the chains dragged his arms back down.

Torchlight filled the cell, and with it came the heavy boots of men.

Osiris Lawless entered, his red-streaked hair catching the glow, his face molded into that false pleasantness that made Noah’s stomach twist.

Behind him, agents carried torches, their shadows stretching long and tall across the walls.

"Ah." Osiris greeted, his voice smooth. "You’re awake. Good. It would be a shame if you missed my little update."

He stepped closer, studying Noah as if he were no more than a specimen pinned beneath glass.

"We found her." Osiris said, his words slow, as if savoring the taste of each one. "Juniper Rowe. Or, what remained of her."

He crouched low, eyes locked on Noah’s hollow face. "She was corrupted, you see. Turned into something less than human. A half-demon." He smiled faintly, almost pitying. "She’s dead now."

Noah stared at him. The words landed somewhere deep inside, but his heart did not stir.

There was no grief. No sorrow. No anger even. He had nothing left to give. His soul was a wasteland, and even the news of Juniper’s death could not scratch the numb shell he had become.

Osiris tilted his head, watching carefully. When he realized Noah’s face remained cold, lifeless, he laughed. A low chuckle at first, building into something darker.

"Not even that? Hm. I had wondered if the girl meant something to you. But perhaps you are even emptier than I thought."

He rose, spreading his hands mockingly. "Then maybe the next piece of news will wring something out of you. After the autopsy, you and I will have our little conversations again."

His smile widened, his teeth sharp in the torchlight. "Oh yes. We’ll return to our games. You will never see the outside world again. You will never feel your magic again. That much, I promise."

He turned, his cloak sweeping behind him. His laughter echoed off the stone as he strode back through the cell door, the agents following, torches carried high. Then the door slammed shut, and once again Noah was swallowed by darkness.

But this time, the silence was different.

A spark flickered.

Hatred began to burn anew.

Noah’s head fell back against the wall, his breath shaking, but inside, something alive twisted and writhed.

He pictured Osiris’ smug smile, the false kindness on his lips, the cruel delight in his eyes as he inflicted torment.

Noah imagined tearing that face apart, piece by piece. He imagined the screams Osiris would give if Noah ever got free. Screams that would echo louder than his own had.

His imagination grew vivid, almost intoxicating. He pictured breaking Osiris’ bones, one at a time. Burning his flesh until there was nothing but ash. Crushing the legacy of the Lawless name until no trace remained in history.

And then, the list began to form.

Osiris Lawless.

Professor Cecilia. She had let them take him. She had stood by and watched.

Leo Hargreaves. The noble coward, who had lied and let Noah rot.

Galahad Lawless. Son of the man who broke him.

Arlo. The friend who had abandoned him when his testimony could have saved him.

The Kingdom of Camelot. For summoning him, for discarding him, for branding him as filth.

The demons. For throwing him into this nightmare.

The world. For existing, for bringing him nothing but pain.

He would burn it all down. Everything. Everyone. Until nothing remained but ash.

Noah tilted his head back, hatred roaring in his chest. He opened his mouth, and from deep within, a sound tore free.

A scream. No, a howl.

A raw, furious cry that shook through the darkness and rang against the stone walls like the roar of a wounded beast.

It was not the cry of a broken boy.

It was the birth of something else.