The sun hung high over the Cronus family estate, gliding the world in silent gold.
It was mid-sumr, and the air clung to everything—thick, slow, and impossibly still. Cicadas droned faintly in the trees, barely audible behind the polished glass of the estate’s windows. The gravel drive, once tended by generations of uniford staff, was empty.
Lucien arrived alone.
No driver. No appointnt. He simply got out of his car and walked the path—his steps quiet and purposeful, leaving no trace behind on the sun-bleached stone. His clothes were black, as always. No tie. No coat. Sleeves rolled to the forearms. The kind of causal that said everything he needed without a single word.
The front doors opened before he touched them. The butler saw him from inside, he stepped out of the way without a word.
The mont he stepped in, the atmosphere changed. Like the estate loathed his presence.
Staff moved through the halls in hushed rhythm, trying not to look at him.
Lucien walked on.
The hallway stretched out before him in long, symtrical quiet. Sunlight filtered through tall windows, casting thin gold bars onto the polished floor. The light caught the edges of frad portraits—paintings of ancestors and titans, each rendered in thick oil, wearing solemn expressions and tiless suits. Fakes created to ease reality.
Clock faces ticked behind glass cabinets.
A single note of music echoed faintly from deeper inside—string and piano, vinyl Magnus usually played. It faded as Lucien turned a corner and ascended a long staircase.
At the far end of the corridor stood the door to Magnus’s study. Old oak with iron hinges. Polished smooth from years of careful maintenance. Normally, he would’ve waited. Knocked.
He didn’t.
Lucien placed his hand on the brass handle.
And stepped inside.
***
The study welcod him with its usual warmth.
Sunlight slanted through tall windows, cutting across rows of oak shelves and leather-bound tos. The sll of paper, pipe smoke, and sothing floral clung to the stillness.
Magnus sat near the window in his wheelchair, a linen blanket over his lap, a book half-open in his hands. He looked up, surprised, but not startled.
“Lucien,” he said, with quiet recognition. “That’s a nice surprise.”
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Lucien said nothing.
Magnus closed the book and placed it carefully on the side table.
“It’s good to see you.”
Lucien took a step forward, eyes scanning the room. Nothing had changed.
“Are you well?” Magnus asked.
“I’m fine,” Lucien said. He looked at the old grandfather clock that hadn’t worked in years. “You still haven’t fixed that.”
“It reminds that so things are allowed to stop.” Magnus smiled faintly. “Sit, please.”
Lucien sat across from him, not stiffly, but with that deliberate movent that made his stillness sharp.
There was a long pause.
“It’s been a while,” Magnus said gently.
“Work.”
“I know. The world would stop if you did.”
Another long pause.
“I feel sothing is troubling you.” Magnus broke the silence.
Lucien looked at Magnus for a second, then answered, “They’re not here.”
“The ones you’ve been looking for?” Magnus asked.
“Yes.”
“You know. You’ve been looking for them for—what, 40 years now?”
“43.” Lucien corrected.
“Spent looking for embers.”
Lucien didn’t respond.
“I never believed it. But I believed in you.”
“Your drive, your… obsession. All this, you’ve built. You did it looking for them.” He added.
“And now you’re finally content that you won’t find them?”
“What if they were never ant to be found? What if… they never existed in the first place, what if ‘they’ were just a ans to drive you to succeed.” Magnus asked.
“‘They’ are real.” Lucien responded. Cold and Sure.
“How do you know that?” Magnus asked.
“Because I lived with them. I have their mories. I rember our ti together.” Lucien answered—firmly.
“And what if it wasn’t real?” Magnus continued.
“How can it not be?” Lucien said, voice deepened—terrifying.
“Two lifetis, I endured with them. Two tis I died with them. I fought shadows—demons… with them. You’re telling I imagined it all?” Lucien added.
“But this. You. . This room. You can see it, touch it, hear it, you can sense it, can’t you?” Magnus asked.
“Yet it’s all fake.” Lucien answered.
“A construct ant to keep trapped with-in this false heaven. Comforted with fake silence. Presented with fake achievents. Surrounded by fake companions. It’s all… too—perfect. It’s not… real.” He added.
A long pause followed. Magnus—terrified by Lucien’s coldness.
“Is that why you’re giving up?” Magnus finally asked.
“I’m not.” Lucien answered.
Magnus looked at Lucien, confused by his words.
“My search has just begun. Only wider now.” Lucien added.
***
Magnus sat motionless, his eyes following every syllable Lucien let slip, every asured breath between lines.
The air in the study felt heavier now. The filtered sunlight had shifted, casting longer shadows across the floor.
“What are you going to do?” he finally asked.
Lucien didn’t respond at first. He glanced toward the window, at the trees swaying faintly outside. Then back to Magnus.
“I’m done looking in this world.” He answered.
Magnus’s voice dropped. “Lucien—what are you making?”
Lucien didn’t answer.
“Lucien whatever you’re about to do, it can’t be sothing you can co back from.”
Lucien stood.
“You said it yourself. My ‘obsession’. I’m going to do what must be done. To find them.”
Magnus’s hands gripped the arms of his wheelchair. “Why— why can’t you just accept it, accept us. What have we ever done to you?”
Lucien walked toward the door.
“Lucien—listen to —”
Lucien paused at the door.
“You were never him. But I still enjoyed your company. I ca to say goodbye. That’s all.”
“Don’t do this!” Magnus pleaded with him.
Lucien looked down. Not turning back.
“I accept the consequences.” He said, quietly.
Then he stepped out.
The door closed with a soft click.
Magnus sat in the silence that followed, jaw clenched, knuckles white against the wheels of his chair.
He turned his eyes to the window—to the sky beyond it.
And whispered to the empty room.
“God help us all.”
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