Solace at World's End Prologue (1)

2 Months ago

Lex's hospital room was larger than the others.

Private.Soundproofed.The kind of room reserved for heirs.

His arms were wrapped in reinforced casts. One shoulder was immobilized completely.

He stared at the ceiling when the door opened.

Heavy footsteps. Polished shoes.

His father didn't knock.

Lord Brightburn entered like he owned the space—tall, broad, silver-threaded cloak draped over one shoulder, rings glinting on his fingers. Two aides remained outside.

His gaze went first to Lex's arms.

Then his chest.

Then the dical monitors.

"Bone fractures in both forearms," his father said calmly.

Lex didn't answer.

"You were reckless," the man continued. "If you had died, the Brightburn succession would have—"

"I know," Lex said quietly.

That stopped him.

Lord Brightburn looked at his son then—not as an heir, but as sothing inconveniently human.

Lex turned his head slightly.

"You don't need to worry," he added. "I didn't expect anything else."

Silence.

His father's jaw tightened.

"You will remain in the capital," Lord Brightburn said.

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Lex exhaled through his nose.

"And my mother?" he asked.

The man's expression hardened.

"She is not well enough to see you."

Lex's fingers twitched inside the casts.

"She worries," he said. "She always does."

"She worries too much," his father replied coldly. "And I will not have her distressed further by seeing you like this."

Lex closed his eyes.

"I figured," he said.

Lord Brightburn lingered for a mont longer, then turned sharply.

"Recover," he said. "You are still needed."

The door closed.

Minutes passed before Lex opened his eyes again.

Only then did his jaw tighten.

***

At a Different dical Center in a Luxurious room.

Machines humd softly. IV drips ticked down with chanical patience.

Vivi sat on the edge of her bed, hands folded in her lap, watching Lily from the corner of her eye.

Lily stood near the window.

Her bandages were fresh. Her movents stiff. One arm trembled faintly where the poison had eaten deep. She hadn't looked at Vivi since their father left.

The door had barely closed when Lily spoke.

"… What did I do wrong?"

Vivi looked up. "Lily—"

"What did I do?" Lily repeated, voice sharper now. "Tell . Because I'd really like to know what cri I committed to deserve to be looked at like trash by my own father."

Vivi hesitated. That was answer enough.

Lily laughed—short, hollow.

"He didn't even ask if I was okay," she said. "Didn't touch . Didn't ask what happened. He just looked at like I'd ruined sothing."

She turned, eyes red but dry.

"And you know what the worst part is?"

Vivi swallowed. "Lily, please—"

"He cares about you," Lily snapped. "He always has."

The words ca faster now, tumbling over each other.

"You're calm. You're useful. You're good. You healed everyone. You did sothing out there."Her voice cracked. "I was just… in the way."

"That's not true," Vivi said quickly, standing. "You fought. You protected—"

"And still needed saving," Lily cut in. "Again."

She took a shaky breath, hands clenched at her sides.

"You know he hates ," Lily said. "He always has. Ever since Mom left."

Vivi stepped closer. "He doesn't hate you."

Lily looked at her.

"You don't get to decide that," she said quietly. "Not when you've never been on the receiving end."

Vivi flinched.

"And don't pretend we're the sa," Lily continued. "You're everything he wants. You're competent. You're gentle. You're loved."Her lips curled bitterly. "I'm just the reminder that his family broke."

The silence stretched.

Then Lily laughed again, bitter and sharp.

"I hate both of you," she said suddenly. "You and him."

Vivi froze.

"I hate how easy it is for you," Lily went on, voice shaking now. "And I hate that I hate you for it."

She grabbed her coat from the chair, ignoring the pain that made her stagger.

"I'm calling Mom," she said, already reaching for her communicator. "At least she'll pretend to care."

Vivi reached out. "Lily—"

But Lily had already turned away.

And Vivi stood there, hands half-raised, not knowing whether to follow—or let her go.