Funeral and a Fracture

The air was heavy with sorrow as mourners gathered in the small, sunlit cemetery. Inarius stood at the edge of the group, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. He watched as the casket holding Alex—the man who had saved him, adopted him, and loved him—was lowered into the ground.

The ceremony was simple, just as Alex would have wanted. The academy members came, offering quiet condolences and sharing stories of Alex's warmth and guidance. Ryan and Sophie were there, standing silently beside Inarius, though their words felt hollow to him.

As the priest spoke, Inarius's mind drifted. He didn't want to hear the words about "moving on" or "finding peace." How could he? Alex was gone, ripped away by senseless tragedy.

When the service ended, Inarius stayed behind, waiting until the cemetery was empty. He knelt by the grave, his hands trembling as he placed a single white rose on the fresh soil.

"I'll make you proud," he whispered, his voice cracking. "I swear."

Returning to school was a blur of stares and whispers. Everyone knew about Alex's death, and though a few offered half-hearted condolences, most avoided him. Inarius felt like a ghost walking through the halls, his presence haunting but unseen.

Chris, however, wasn't one to hold back. During lunch, he approached Inarius with that smug grin plastered across his face.

"Guess you couldn't keep him safe, huh?" Chris sneered, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "Maybe he'd still be alive if he didn't have to take care of a freak like you."

The cafeteria fell silent. All eyes turned to the confrontation, the air thick with anticipation. Inarius sat frozen for a moment, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the edge of the table.

"You don't want to do this," Inarius said, his voice low and strained.

"Oh, I think I do," Chris shot back, stepping closer. "It's not like anyone's gonna miss you when you're gone, Morningstar. Hell, your own mom didn't want you."

That was it. Something inside Inarius snapped.

Before Chris could react, Inarius stood, his grey eyes glowing with an unnatural light. A wave of purple energy emanated from him, invisible to everyone but him. He grabbed Chris by the wrist, and in that instant, he let it all out.

The memories hit Chris like a freight train—hundreds of them, flooding his mind all at once. The scurrying of rats in the sewers, the fear of mice moments before their deaths, the chaotic violence of a murderer's past sins. Chris screamed, his body convulsing as he crumpled to the floor.

Inarius stared down at him, his face a mask of cold fury. He knew he could break Chris completely, shatter his mind into a million irreparable pieces. But he didn't. With a flick of his hand, he pulled the memories back, leaving Chris gasping on the ground, his eyes wide with terror.

The silence in the cafeteria was deafening. Students stared at Inarius, their faces a mix of fear and disgust.

"Monster," someone whispered.

That word cut deeper than any insult Chris had ever thrown at him. Inarius glanced around, seeing nothing but horror reflected in their eyes.

Without another word, he ran. He didn't stop until he was far from the school, his lungs burning and his legs aching. The tears came only when he was alone, hidden in an alleyway.

Inarius's face was plastered across every news channel. The words "Dangerous Mutant" and "Manhunt" scrolled beneath grainy pictures of him. The authorities were looking for him, labeling him a threat to society.

He was angry—angry at Chris, at the students, at the world. But most of all, he was angry at himself. He had lost control, and now everything Alex had built for him was gone.

With nowhere else to go, Inarius returned to the only place that felt familiar: his childhood home. The building had been abandoned for years, left to decay like the memories it held.

The roof leaked, the walls were covered in graffiti, and the stench of mildew was suffocating. But it was quiet, and no one would think to look for him here.

Inarius sat in the corner of what used to be his room, staring at the purple glow of the sword in his hand. It pulsed faintly, a reminder of what he was capable of.

"I'm not a monster," he whispered to himself, though the words felt hollow.

For the first time in years, he felt truly alone.