Whispers of Worlds Beyond: A Series

While Ettore may have thought the boys had gone through their books after the heated exchange during breakfast, it was safe to say that he was severely mistaken, for the boys had abandoned their books entirely, and was sprawled across the polished wooden floor beside a towering bookshelf.

Blaze, his wide blue eyes gleaming with anticipation, had been brimming with questions since last night.

His innocent excitement had led to a premature inquiry at breakfast, one that had them kicked out of the dining room and spend the rest of the morning inside the study. Now, away from prying eyes, he finally got his chance.

Sitting cross-legged, his tousled hair catching the soft glow of the morning sunlight streaming through the tall windows, Blaze eagerly leaned closer to Aiden.

The thought of his two heroes: his father and his older brother contributing another victory for humanity, made his chest swell with pride. To him, the tale was more than just a story; it was a celebration!

Aiden, however, wasn't as spirited. Seated with his back against the towering shelf, he absentmindedly rolled a pencil between his fingers. His green eyes were distant, shadowed by something unspoken. Memories of London lingered, as well as the tree in the middle of nowhere, vivid and sharp, but Aiden wanted nothing more than to banish them entirely.

But seeing Blaze so full of life and excited to hear what happened, made him feel guilty.

Blaze deserves to know.

At least, the side that doesn't sit well with violence.

--------------------------------------

The car cruised through London's bustling streets, its polished black exterior gleaming under the bright midday sun. Aiden sat stiffly in the back seat, his gaze fixed on the window.

The city passed by in a blur, its cobblestone streets and towering buildings a patchwork of light and shadow. Outside, the city was alive, a cacophony of clattering wheels, chattering voices, and chiming bells. Vendors hawked their wares on street corners, and children darted between street lamps, their laughter piercing through the noise.

Next to him, his father, Orion Chase, sat in silence, his gloved hands resting on the silver-tipped cane he never seemed to need.

"Straight to Salem Arena," Orion instructed the driver, his voice as clipped and sharp as ever. The man behind the wheel simply nodded, weaving the car through the bustling streets.

Aiden shifted uncomfortably, his fingers playing with the edge of his coat. He had heard whispers about Salem Arena- stories of roaring crowds, of Magi brought low in spectacles of fire and fury. His mother had never allowed him to see one for himself, so his father never brought him.

Until today.

Why did you bring me, father?" Aiden finally asked, his voice barely louder than the hum of the engine.

Orion didn't look at him. His eyes, as cold and calculating as ever, were fixed straight ahead. "You're the eldest son of the Chase family. It's time you understood the responsibility that comes with our name."

Aiden bit his lip, his stomach twisting into knots.

Responsibility.

That was all his father ever talked about. The Chase family had built its legacy on hunting Magi, rooting out their kind and keeping the world "safe" from their magic. Aiden had always been told it was noble work, but the weight of it felt suffocating.

The car turned onto a wide boulevard, the shadow of the arena growing larger with each passing second. Its massive stone arches towered above the surrounding buildings, their weathered surfaces adorned with crimson banners bearing the symbol of the Hunters Association- a sword crossed with a flame. The air grew still, the hum of the city giving way to the distant roar of a crowd.

However, the car veered off from the throngs of people swarming the main entrance and pulled up to a smaller, gated side entrance guarded by two stern-faced men. They stepped aside as soon as they spotted the Chase family crest embossed on the car door.

The driver opened the door, and Orion stepped out first, his coat billowing in the wind. Aiden followed reluctantly, his boots crunching on the gravel as he glanced up at the towering edifice.

"Keep your head high," Orion said, his voice firm but quiet. "You're a Chase."

The guards pushed open the heavy wooden doors, revealing a dim, cool corridor. The muffled roar of the crowd reverberated through the stone walls, sending a shiver down Aiden's spine. He followed his father silently, their footsteps echoing off the polished marble floors.

Inside, the air felt heavy, the anticipation of the spectacle ahead palpable even in the private passage. The corridor led them to an elevated private viewing box that overlooked the arena. It was lavishly adorned with velvet seats and gold trim, a stark contrast to the gritty spectacle they were about to witness.

Orion took his place at the edge of the box, leaning slightly on his cane as he gazed down at the arena. Aiden hesitated before joining him, his stomach knotting as he looked out at the scene below.

The arena was packed with people, their faces lit by the glow of the massive pyre at its center. Tied to the wooden stake was a figure: a Magi, their tattered robes barely clinging to their frail body. Golden shackles bound their wrists.

Aiden froze.

He had imagined this moment countless times, but seeing it in person was something else entirely. The Magi's face was a mask of defiance, their eyes scanning the crowd before staring directly towards Aiden's direction.

"This," Orion said, placing a firm hand on his son's shoulder, stopping Aiden from looking away, "is what keeps the world safe. They threaten the balance, Aiden. They must be dealt with."

Aiden didn't respond. He couldn't bear to look at the scene unfolding before him.

The executioner approached the pyre, a torch in hand, the flames dancing hungrily as the crowd erupted into cheers. From another viewing box, Aiden could see them clapping their hands at the sight.

The torch touched the base of the pyre, and the flames roared to life, climbing upward with terrifying speed. The Magi's screams cut through the noise, piercing and raw.

Aiden's stomach churned, his fists clenching at his sides.

Do you see now?" Orion asked, his voice low. "Do you understand the burden we bear?"

Aiden turned to his father, searching his face for any sign of doubt, any flicker of humanity. But Orion's expression was as steely as ever, his gaze fixed on the flames with chilling detachment.

To see such person devoid of emotion as his father, he wanted to say no. He wanted to argue how pointless this was. He needed to say no.

But he couldn't.

Aiden pursed his lips. "I… understand," Aiden lied, his voice barely audible, his nose slightly scrunching.

But he didn't understand. Not the hatred, not the violence, not the cheers of the crowd.

All he understood was the sickening weight in his chest, a heaviness that pressed down on him as he turned back to the inferno.

As the flames consumed the pyre and the Magi's cries faded, Aiden felt a strange warmth in his chest- not from the fire, but from something deeper, something he couldn't quite name.

It was anger, yes, but also shame.

Shame that he was standing there, doing nothing. Shame that his father and his ancestors were one of the many men who orchestrated these horrors.

For the first time, he wondered if the true danger wasn't the magic, but the people who sought to destroy it.

And in the shadow of the arena, beneath the bright midday sun, Aiden felt the weight of the world his family had built, and it pressed down on him like a shackle.