The Name I Was Reborn to Bury

After Elian fell asleep, Elise and Arthur returned to the living room together.

Emanuelle was still there, sitting in the same spot they had left her. Her small body curled up on the couch seemed even smaller, wrapped in silence and anxiety. Her eyes still shimmered with tears that hadn't fully dried, but her expression was calmer—or at least trying to be.

As soon as she saw them, but not her brother, she stood up abruptly.

"Where's Eli?!" she asked, panicked, her voice trembling.

"He's sleeping now, little one," Elise replied gently. "He's safe. Don't worry."

But the words weren't enough.

"It's all my fault…" Emanuelle whimpered, covering her face with her hands just as the tears came back stronger. "If I hadn't walked away from Eli… If I had just waited for Daddy to come back… none of this would've happened! He wouldn't have gotten hurt!"

She burst into tears.

She was just a child. And like all children, making mistakes was part of life. But her still-immature heart couldn't understand that. Maybe it wouldn't for many years. Maybe she would carry this weight for the rest of her life—even though she didn't deserve it.

Arthur's chest tightened at the sight of his daughter like that.

He didn't hesitate. He knelt in front of her and wrapped her in his arms—tight, almost crushing her against his chest.

"No, my love… this isn't your fault," he whispered, stroking her red hair. "You just wanted to buy a few things for your mom, didn't you? You just wanted to surprise her…"

She nodded, sobbing.

"Those monsters were the ones who hurt Elian. And only them. You're not to blame for anything."

Arthur rested his chin on her hair, holding her even tighter.

"And you know what? If Elian wakes up and sees you like this, blaming yourself and crying… he's going to be sad too. He wants to protect you, Manu. He doesn't want to see you suffering because of him. He's fine now. He's being taken care of. Elise is looking after him."

Emanuelle didn't respond right away. Her eyes were still teary, but there was a small shift—like a part of her wanted to believe those words. Elise came closer, kneeling beside her.

"Go to him, Emanuelle," Elise said in a calm but firm voice. Her eyes, at that moment, didn't just see—they understood. There was a quiet pain there, as if she herself carried similar scars. "Stay with him. Stay with your brother until he wakes up. I'm sure it will be good for both of you."

Arthur then leaned in and kissed his daughter on the forehead.

"Go on, baby."

"I'm not a baby anymore…" Emanuelle muttered softly, her voice trembling, but a faint smile appearing on her lips.

She pulled away from the hug, wiped her tears with the back of her hands, and hurried toward the infirmary.

The door closed quietly behind her.

A few moments later, already by the bed where Elian rested, she stood there, watching him. His face was peaceful in sleep, even with the bruises still visible.

She leaned forward slowly and whispered:

"I'm sorry, Eli. Because of me… you went through all of this. But I swear I'll become stronger. Strong enough so you won't have to protect me anymore… And so I can protect you too."

With her small hands, she lifted the blanket and carefully climbed in beside him.

She hugged her brother like a shield, like someone silently vowing safety and protection.

And there, beside that wounded body, she fell asleep.

★★★

In the living room, Arthur remained standing, staring at the door through which his daughter had left.

Elise then slowly approached.

"Arthur…" she said softly. "I'd like to talk with you."

In Elise's kitchen, the scent of herbal tea filled the air with an almost forced calm—as if trying, in vain, to soften the weight of the conversation that was about to unfold.

Elise prepared the infusion with controlled movements, but her gaze fixed on the cup betrayed the storm ahead. When she turned to Arthur, who watched in silence, she spoke directly. There was no other way to say it.

"Where should I begin…?" she murmured, touching the cup with her fingers. Then she took a deep breath. "Elian killed two boys today."

The sentence fell like a blade in the air.

Arthur froze.

"What?" His voice came out weak. He'd expected something serious, of course—but not this. In his mind, Elian was still the gentle, sensitive boy who played with his sister and showed deep respect for his parents.

"Yes. He killed them. In the alley. I arrived afterward. I didn't intervene. It was all him." Elise's voice was firm, unadorned.

"But… how? And why?"

"With magic," she replied, as if it were obvious.

Arthur brought a hand to his face, trying to process what he was hearing. He knew Elian was talented with magic. He knew he was more mature than he seemed. But to kill someone?

Elise leaned forward. Her eyes did not waver.

"The reason…" she said, controlled, "was because they tried to rape your daughter."

The silence that followed wasn't empty.

It was an implosion.

Arthur stood with a jolt. His eyes wide. His fists clenched. And then—he punched the table.

"Bastards! Sons of bitches! How could they… with my daughter?!"

His scream echoed through the house.

Elise didn't flinch. She only looked at him firmly.

"I understand," she said. "I felt the same way. But the situation is over. They're dead, Arthur. Emanuelle is safe. Elian… saved her."

Arthur staggered a little as he sat back down. He brought the cup to his lips with trembling hands. The tea was still steaming. He drank like someone needing to hold on to something.

"My children… so young… already going through this," he whispered, more to himself than to her. His gaze lost, his expression shattered.

Elise approached slowly.

"Arthur," she called, gently but firmly. "I want to make a request."

He looked up. Nodded, silently.

"I want you to let me train Elian. Not as a healer. As a master."

Arthur blinked, confused.

"You want to… train him?"

"Yes. He has potential. More than you realize. More than even he knows." She paused. "But he needs guidance. And quickly."

Arthur fell silent for a few seconds, then let out a weary sigh.

"You know we can't afford a master. Especially someone like you…" he looked at her sincerely. "And I don't believe you'd do it for free."

"I won't," she replied honestly. "But the payment won't be in coin."

Arthur frowned.

"He'll help me. With treatments. With potion preparation. He'll keep the house in order. He'll study healing, assist with patients… and, of course, he'll learn magic. I'll train him with everything I can, as long as he's disciplined and willing."

Arthur grew thoughtful.

The silence lasted longer this time.

"Before I give you an answer…" he finally said, "I need to speak with Elian. And with Maria."

Elise nodded with understanding.

"I know how attached Maria is to him. And I know it's not an easy decision. But think carefully. You live far, and bringing Elian every day isn't viable. He'd have to stay here during the week and go home on weekends. I understand the weight of that. But after what happened today… he needs this."

Since Elian's birth, Maria had rarely let him out of her arms for long. It was as if a part of her just knew—even without knowing—that there was something different about that child.

Not that she loved Anthony or Emanuelle any less. On the contrary, she loved them with the same intensity, with the same maternal warmth that had burned in her chest since she became a mother. But with Elian… there was something more. Something no one could explain—not even herself.

Maybe it was the trauma of childbirth. The bleeding that nearly took her life. The fear of dying and leaving her three children alone in a cruel and unjust world. Or maybe… it was something deeper.

Maybe, deep in her soul, Maria knew.

Knew that there was something in him—something silent and ancient—that had brought her back from death. As if that child, born between life and the end, had pushed the gates of the other world open to save her. As if, in some inexplicable way, Elian had been the anchor that kept her from sinking.

"I know," Arthur replied, lowering his eyes. "He needs more than just love. He needs direction. Preparation."

"Then talk to them. But don't take too long," Elise added. "Elian is standing at the edge of a path… and what he becomes from now on may depend on who teaches him."

The silence that followed was dense, almost solemn. As if Elise's words had drawn an invisible line between what had already been… and what still could be.

★★★

On the other side of that choice, Elian slept deeply in the infirmary. But in his dreams… roots intertwined, and light and shadow seemed to converse.

The darkness was thick, but not silent.

There was a sound—deep, resonant—like the echo of roots growing beneath the earth. Elian stood there, though he didn't know how. The ground beneath his feet was cold, damp, covered in moss and ash. A milky mist slithered around his legs, hiding the horizon, as if the world ended just beyond what his eyes could see.

"What is this place…?" he whispered, his voice trembling, recalling the gray realm he'd been taken to after death. But this… was different. Here, there was no color at all. Only black.

Before him stood two colossal trees.

One was alive, luminous, with branches interwoven like golden veins. Ten spheres hung from its trunk, pulsing like ethereal hearts—it was the Tree of Life, the Sephiroth.

The other was a monolith of darkness. Twisted, with claw-like branches and roots writhing like sleeping serpents, murmuring words in languages Elian didn't know but… felt. Ten dark spheres floated around it, pulsing in a slow, hungry rhythm.

Qliphoth.

The two trees grew side by side, but their roots were entwined beneath the earth like conjoined twins, bound by a single hidden heart. And above them hovered the owl.

With wings spread, each feather seemed made of living silver. On one wing, Sephiroth was inscribed in golden light. On the other, Qliphoth, drawn in liquid darkness.

"You have been judged," the owl whispered, without moving its beak. The sound invaded the space like thought shaped into wind.

Elian tried to speak, but no sound came from his throat. He only looked around, trying to understand why his heart felt so heavy.

Then he noticed: the Tree of Life was bleeding. But not as something dying—rather, as something feeding. The golden light flowing from Sephiroth trickled down its trunk and merged with the shadow emanating from Qliphoth.

Light and darkness. Merging.

It was impossible. Illogical. As if two opposites ignored their very nature. As if the world, in that moment, was purposely breaking its own rules.

Elian looked at the owl… and saw doubt.

Even she—observer of judgment, bearer of the wings of creation and end—didn't understand what she was seeing.

One of the lowest spheres on the Sephiroth—Malkuth—dripped a crimson thread. The blood of matter. And that blood fed directly into a black root of Qliphoth, which absorbed it with silent delight.

And Qliphoth smiled.

Not with a mouth, not with a face. But Elian knew. It smiled.

One of the dark roots began to crawl toward him.

Elian tried to step back, but his feet were trapped in the mud. The mist thickened, rising to his knees, blinding his vision. In the distance, the trees' whispers grew louder—as if the world itself was chanting. A hymn. Or a dirge.

And then, the root touched his leg.

Elian shuddered.

But there was no pain. No cold.

There was… familiarity.

A chill ran down his spine—not from threat, but from recognition. As if the root knew him. As if it knew his name. As if it had touched his soul before he was ever reborn.

It was like returning to a place he should never have left.

The weight of that realization crushed all fear.

And then Elian screamed.

But there was no sound.

No echo.

Only silence.

And he awoke.

★★★

Gasping, Elian opened his eyes.

For a moment, it took him time to recognize where he was. The wooden ceiling. The smell of herbs. The firm pillow under his neck.

"The infirmary…" he murmured, recalling all that had happened.

His body ached, but not as before. The pain was there, lingering, but bearable—like the shadows of wounds already beginning to heal.

Then he felt a light weight on his right arm.

He turned and saw her.

Emanuelle.

Asleep, clinging to his side like he was the only anchor in a sea of nightmares. Her face partly covered by tousled red hair. A dry trail of a tear marked her cheek.

"Manu…" Elian whispered, softly, trying not to wake her.

He gently brushed the hair from her face. He stayed there, watching her. Her chest rose and fell slowly, lips slightly parted, dreaming of something he might never know.

"She must be blaming herself for everything…" Elian thought sadly. "Even though she's just a child."

It didn't take long before she stirred, startled by the movement.

But when she saw Elian watching her, the tension in her body melted. Her eyes filled with tears at once.

"Eli…" she whispered, her voice breaking. "I'm sorry… please forgive me."

"For what?" he asked, smiling gently, almost chuckling.

"For getting out of the cart… for wandering off… for making you get hurt so badly," she said, holding back tears. "It was all my fault…"

Before the tears fell, Elian reached out and cupped her face tenderly.

"No, Manu. None of this is your fault," he said firmly, but kindly. "And even if it were, I'd do it all again. Once, twice, ten times. Because you, Dad, Mom, and Anthony are all I have. All I love. And I'd give my life for you."

He paused, tilting his head with a mischievous smile.

"And besides… if you keep crying like that, you'll look like a crybaby."

Emanuelle sniffled, surprised, then let out a muffled laugh.

"I'm not a baby…" she grumbled, giving him a light punch on the shoulder.

"I know," Elian replied, eyes shining. "You're my big sister. And the bravest of them all."

"One day…" she said, still hugging him, "I'll be strong. Truly strong. Strong enough to protect you too, Eli."

Elian didn't respond. He just nodded, feeling a wave of emotion stir in his chest.

And then, they lay there, side by side, whispering silly words and quiet giggles, until the soft aroma of incense once again filled their lungs.

And together, they fell asleep.