Every single day, for the last five years, a poor boy had been surviving on his own. He existed to ace punishments—a loser who could not speak, not read, nor do any magic. He could bear the weight of books for an entire day—but with three ghosts mumbling profanities and nonsense in his ears, his energy depleted faster than usual.
"You don't have a name?" Riven asked, almost to himself. Although the boy was clad in ragged clothes, he didn't appear to be a nameless servant. Oddly enough, he had an air of nobility surrounding him.
Dizzy, the boy shook his head. "I hear a lot. I don't know which one it is."
"We'll choose one to call you then," Lucius suggested. "Go on."
The boy obliged. Though hesitant, he spoke. "Bastardsson?"
An uproarious laughter erupted from both Lucius and Caleum. They found the boy's response too funny their bodies began flickering on and off.
"Bastard's Son?" Caelum repeated, stifling his laughter for a second just to let it rip the next. "Well, I'd gladly call you that!"
The boy's eyebrows furrowed, about to ask for some clarifications but Riven chimed in.
"I'd gladly meet the lunatic who named you such. Golden." he said. "But that's not it. What else?"
The boy began spewing a bunch of profanities the wisps almost wondered if he was throwing curses at them on purpose. But he recited the foulest of words with the straightest face, apathetically painting the tragic live he had to live.
Gnat. Nitwit. Dweeb. Cretin. Airhead... the list went on. Those were only the few insults he considered might be his name. Everyone around him addressed him derogatorily--no one addressed him with the tiniest bit of respect.
Even a demon would feel sorry if they heard his story. Too bad, only three soulless souls were there to listen, and as the Heaven's Unruliests, these three gave no damn at all.
"The woman who birthed me..." the boy said after a series of nopes. His complexion had gone paler than the pages on his arms. "Before she passed... she called me Aiden."
"That's the one," Riven said, turning slightly toward Caelum. "Aiden. That's a human name, isn't it?"
Caelum shrugged. "Perhaps. Human names are simply whatever, dude."
"Pity." Lucius mumbled under his breath. "Bastardsson was exemplary."
A bitter smile crossed the boy's parched lips. "Aiden? So my name's... Aiden..."
Just as he finally realized his own name, Aiden lost consciousness. His body collapsed to the ground, the books in his hands crashing against his bruised knees. The torture had finally taken its toll.
"Bastardsson!" Lucius snapped. "Someone do something! This one's the most interesting mortal to ever face me yet. Save him!"
Riven drifted closer to check on the boy, but as he neared, his light began to flicker. For the briefest instant—just a single millisecond—his immortal form surfaced. Like a glitch in reality, his immortal form premiered: limbs, flesh, and viscera flashing into existence… then gone again.
"What in the world?!" Caelum exclaimed.
Lucius stared in disbelief as well. Together with Caelum, they both hovered closer to the boy, hoping the same phenomenon would occur to them. Even for a millisecond, they wanted to reunite with the immortal bodies they'd lost a thousand years back.
When nothing happened, they both leered questioningly to Riven.
"Don't ask me. I have no idea what happened either," Riven said, questions swarming his mind, his gaze pinned on his hands that has since then disappeared.
"How was it?" Caelum marveled. "What did it feel like? Tell us!"
Riven needed no recollection of the sensation he felt. Up until this moment, he could still feel the electricity coursing through his entirety as if he had limbs and veins.
"I'll tell you later," he hissed before pinning his attention toward the boy. "We save him first or he dies while we gawk around."
"Right, right," Caelum said. "Let's save him first."
The three wisps formed a circle, then offered a moment of silence for their unfortunate handicap, only the cicadas rattled from the distance.
"But... How?" Lucius mumbled. "We can't carry him without limbs..."
"Oh..."
"Right..."
As if answering their curses, a silhouette emerged from the distance. An old, graying butler came to approach their direction. Clad in a black suit, he was tall and slender, his face almost sunken due to old age. From his figure, the wisps almost thought a grim reaper had already come for their poor boy Aiden.
The butler loomed over Aiden, the afternoon sun framing his silhouette and casting a long shadow across his face. His expression, half-lit and somber, revealed a quiet sorrow. He looked down at the boy with silent pity. After a long, measured pause, he exhaled a heavy sigh.
With long, bony fingers, he drew a conch shell from the pocket of his immaculate suit."The young master has fainted," he said calmly. "Take him to his room—and prepare a hearty soup."
A baritone voice came out of the conch in protest. "But Sir, Lord Greyson clearly stated that we're not allowed to help him--"
"I'll face the consequences."
Lucius inched himself closer toward Caelum as if nudging him with a hypothetical elbow. "So, he's a young master, huh?"
"Right? That was bonkers for me as well." Caelum agreed. "Look at those filthy clothes."
The butler gazed down at Aiden, his figure casting a shadow on the boy's pitiful state. Unaware of the three wisps he brushed off with his cane, he muttered a few words, his eyes brimmed with worry and anger.
"This may be the last time I can do anything for you, young master," he said, his voice heavy with sorrow and resignation.
"You'll have to fight on your own now."
The wisps' lights dimmed out of respect. It didn't take much to know this butler was nearing his life's end. His soul was glowing as transparent as theirs.
Riven even deemed that the butler had only a few days left—if he was fortunate enough to make it through the night.