Owen’s Point of View

Back in Phulas.

Half past eleven inside the tent that stood by the river. Matilda hugged Lucia one last time as she bid her goodbyes.

Owen wasn't with them. He was dipping his feet in the water outside, having deep thoughts. He was remembering everything he had done to his brother since they were kids.

He was nine when George was born. And he was nine when his mother died.

To him, his mother, Anika, was the sweetest person who ever existed. He didn't really understand it before as he was just a kid. But he never treated George warmly. Not even once. And he just realized that now.

Like, in his head, he understood his brother was just a baby who had no control over his curse. And he was born prematurely—only seven months. And had a lot of complications growing up. If you could even consider that being born at all. After all, he just turned their mother to dust along with his twin.

He understood it, yet… He still treated him badly. Not letting him borrow his toys. Bully him whenever he got low grades in school despite being aware George had trouble listening to lectures for a long period of time.

A part of his brain didn't develop well for being born prematurely. He had learning and behavior difficulties. It was very hard to hold his attention for long. And he sucked at P.E. so badly.

He was aware, yet…

"What a terrible brother I am." He muttered. "That fool. Can I make it up to him still?"

Then he sighed.

"Idiot! You bullied him because you miss your mum when the fool didn't even have a mother to miss." He continued to beat himself up. "Stupid. Stupid idiot."

***

"Are you sure you're giving these to me?" Lucia asked, disbelieving. In her hands were three manda-taki candles.

"I thought about it but I never really paid you back, haven't I? That's why I'm giving these to you. You need them, don't you?" Matilda told her. "Take it before I change my mind. I'm still thankful to you, you know? My husband was a terrible human being. If not for you, he might still be beating me up even here in Phulas."

"Don't mention it," Lucia said nonchalantly. "If you hadn't saved me when I was seven there would be no Lucia now. I am the one grateful to you. And if I make it out of here alive, I swear I'll make it up to you. But if—"

"Please say no more," Matilda cut her off. "I don't wanna hear it."

Lucia was silent for a while. Then she smiled. "Okay. I respect your decision," she said. "But if you ever change your mind. Please read this." She slipped a piece of paper in Matilda's palms and made her hold onto it tight. Then she left the tent.

She stretched her limbs then she took a deep breath. "This is the right way to do it. Right, papa?" Then she grinned.

Then her countenance shifted. She wore the face she practiced for hours in the mirror. The face people in Bonaville hate for some reason. The face she wears whenever she's pulling pranks on people. The annoying grin; infuriating smirk; and oddly innocent pair of green eyes that seemed to scream I didn't know shit about what you're talking about.

And then she laughed. And laughed. She laughed so hard despite her hands shaking.

Matilda could only hold back her tears as she listened to Lucia. For she knew why she became like this. She squeezed the letter in her hand. And stared at the little chest above the pillow Lucia used.

"Oi! My other nephew! Bring your ass over here. You go carry the bags. You can do it, right? You carried all of them and me last night. Not that I knew how you did it."

"Okay," Owen simply said as he did what she told him. Which Lucia found odd because Owen always questioned her every decision.

"Wait! Did you cry?" Lucia asked when she noticed his puffy eyes.

"No."

"You're lying."

"I'm not," Owen denied.

Then she never stopped pestering him after that.

***

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing. Scram." Aurore spat at the voice inside her head.

"Okay," the voice said. But moments later, Aurore's face shifted to the left as she grew another face.

"What are you doing again, Tifati?"

"Nuthin. Just growing you another face, obviously. And also to remind you that you only have three hours remaining."

"I know! So stop this now."

"Okay. But I have one last request."

"What is it now?"

"That boy was cute," Tifati said dreamily. "Can you keep his head for me?"

"He's a sacrifice, you dolt. Must give the best to the Great Old One."

"Tsk! I know that."