Everything had changed between them. They looked at each other with an awkwardness that felt almost unnatural, as if they were strangers who had never met before. The familiarity that once bound them seemed to have dissolved into a fragile silence.
Heka felt it most deeply within himself. It was as if he had been reborn, emerging from a cocoon not just physically, but spiritually. A strange new energy coursed through his veins, a sensation both exhilarating and unsettling.
The transformation was profound, yet he kept it locked away, a secret he hadn't dared to share with Ansel.
The guilt weighed heavily on him. He wanted to tell Ansel everything, to confide in him as he had before. But Ansel himself seemed changed, distant in a way that made Heka hesitate. The man sitting beside him was no longer the familiar Ansel he once knew.
Thus, Heka chose silence, fearing that words might shatter the fragile connection they still had.
They were far from anywhere familiar. Heka didn't know where Ansel was taking him, nor why. Ansel's intentions were deeper, more complex. Something unspoken lingered between them, thickening the air with tension and uncertainty.
Despite everything, Ansel's presence had a calming effect. His silent companionship was enough to halt the flood of tears that threatened to spill over.
Yet, the grief remained a dull ache in Heka's chest for the person he had lost, someone who had meant everything to him. The sorrow was not erased, only softened by the quiet understanding between them.
For the entire journey, Heka stared out the window, watching the world blur past in muted colors. Ansel remained silent, his gaze fixed ahead, his lips sealed. It was a stark contrast to the man Heka remembered, Ansel who had once been talkative, even fussy at times.
The silence between them was heavy, but not uncomfortable. It was more like a shared space where words were unnecessary.
It might be a very natural thing. Because Heka has a quiet character who doesn't talk much. It was not easy for him to say a word out of his mouth.
Meanwhile, Ansel became quite the same as Heka. Yet he didn't utter a single word.
Heka thought. "He just kept quiet. Did something happen to him? So he has changed a lot. A person's character indeed changes drastically if he has experienced a life, changing moment."
Though curiosity gnawed at him, Heka resisted the urge to ask. He didn't want to pry into Ansel's pain or unravel the mystery of his transformation. For now, he was content to sit in silence, sharing the unspoken bond of two souls altered by loss and change.
***
Meanwhile, Ansel had mastered the art of controlling the crystal water, a power that allowed him to freeze not just the liquid, but his very emotions. His feelings were locked away, encased in an impenetrable shell of ice.
The warmth that once radiated from his heart had vanished, replaced by a coldness so absolute it was as if he had become a living glacier. He was no longer the man he used to be; he had transformed completely, becoming like Hansel.
Hansel, his brother, was often a figure of concern for Ansel. Despite his own cold exterior, Hansel's care for Ansel was unwavering. Yet, his expression remained stoic, almost indifferent, as if shielding himself from the pain beneath.
Even so, Ansel knew that beneath that frosty facade, Hansel loved him deeply. It was a love that needed no words, expressed in silent gestures and quiet presence.
Throughout the journey, silence enveloped them like a thick fog. Heka's tears had dried up, leaving behind a quiet stillness.
He did not ask where Ansel was taking him. Yet Ansel did not offer any explanation. The destination remained a mystery, hidden behind the veil of Ansel's silence.
This silence was natural, almost expected. Heka was a man of few words, someone who carried his emotions quietly within himself.
Ansel mirrored this restraint, understanding that sometimes silence spoke louder than words.
When Ansel reached out and took Heka's hand, he did so without a word. There was no plea, no demand, no urging to follow. He simply offered his hand, a silent invitation.
He simply offered his hand, a silent invitation. Ansel respected Heka's autonomy, giving him the freedom to choose his own path without pressure or provocation. He knew that a single word, spoken at the wrong moment, could shatter fragile hearts.
Thus, he remained silent.
Ansel guided Heka to a place far from the noise and chaos. A quiet sanctuary where sorrow could be released, even if only for a fleeting moment. It was a place where grief could be felt without judgment, where the weight of loss could be borne in solitude.
Losing someone so precious was a wound that cut deep, a pain that seemed endless and without escape. Yet, amidst the pain, there was a quiet strength, a reluctant acceptance of reality.
Ansel stopped his car right on the shore of Pine Creek. It was a place he had deliberately chosen, one he was certain could help calm Heka's restless heart.
He had kept the destination a secret, not wanting to burden Heka with unnecessary questions or expectations. Instead, Ansel focused on understanding Heka's fragile state, sensing that silence and space were what he needed most.
Pine Creek was a place steeped in memories for Ansel. It was one of the few spots he often visited with his brother, Hansel. The two of them had shared many quiet moments here, the gentle sound of the waves lapping against the shore and the fresh.
He remembered once Hansel had said. "Ansel remembers this well. There are two things that can make the heart and mind calm. First, the sound of the waves. Second, a remote place in a highland."
Those words had stayed with Ansel, guiding him now as he sought to help Heka find some solace.
Heka was the first to step out of the car. He moved slowly, his footsteps light on the soft sand as he walked toward the beach. The vast expanse of water stretched before him, its rhythmic waves whispering promises of calm and renewal.
Ansel reached into the car and retrieved a drink he had prepared for Heka a month ago. It had been carefully kept on the dashboard, untouched despite the curiosity of others.
Ansel had even scolded Andrew when he tried to take it, insisting it was meant only for this moment.
Now, he carried the drink over to Heka and sat beside him on the shore, handing it over with a quiet gesture.
"Thank you." Heka said softly, accepting the drink and taking a slow sip.
Ansel responded with a small, almost imperceptible smile, the kind that spoke volumes without words.
After a moment, Heka broke the silence, his voice tinged with regret. "Sorry I didn't listen to you. You forbade me several times not to accept soul delivery. Now everything you told me has happened. I've lost everything."
The words hung in the air, heavy with sorrow and the weight of painful truth. Ansel remained silent, letting Heka's confession settle between them.
It was all true. Ansel had forbidden Heka from accepting soul delivery, warning him of the peril it entailed. But now, none of that mattered.
The urgency of the moment eclipsed all previous concerns. His priority was clear and unyielding: to kill the Fayfiend that relentlessly pursued Heka, threatening to consume him entirely.
"It is your destiny. Even if you follow my advice, one day you will also receive Soul Delivery. Anyway, for what just happened, I don't know if your parents is the price." Ansel said quietly, his voice heavy with resignation.
Heka's eyes darkened with a mixture of sorrow and acceptance. He replied softly. "Forget about it."
He had absolutely no right to blame Ansel for what happened to him. If Ansel hadn't helped him free from insomnia, maybe he would have spent more time with his parents. However, he was quite grateful because he was still alive. Even though he had to face a bitter reality.
Ansel's mind raced with questions that gnawed at him. He needed to understand why Heka had become a sacrifice. He asked, his tone probing yet gentle. "Heka, have you ever attended or followed a ritual before you got insomnia?"
Heka answered firmly. "No, never. I'm not at all interested in that. Why?"
Ansel thought. "If Heka never follows any rituals, then why does Heka become a sacrifice?"
Ansel's curiosity deepened. His eyes searched Heka's face, desperate for answers. "Do you remember the days before you got insomnia?"
Heka shook his head, frustration flickering across his features. "No. I don't remember that at all. I tried to remember many times, but I couldn't do it at all."
That silence was proof enough for Ansel. Heka's mind had been tampered with, controlled by some dark force.
Something invisible and malevolent had disturbed his peace, leaving him restless and unable to sleep. The torment was not just physical. It was a spiritual invasion that left Heka vulnerable and broken.
"If you remember something, tell me immediately." Ansel urged.
"Okay." Heka replied briefly, his voice carrying a faint glimmer of hope.
While waiting for Heka's memories to resurface, Ansel turned his attention to another lead, the mysterious woman connected to this dark fate. Besides Ansel, only Andrew had seen her.
"She once ordered a music box at Andrew's shop. Hopefully, Andrew still kept her contacts. I hope that she did not change her number." Ansel recalled.
Ansel's instincts told him that fighting the Fayfiend directly might not be the only way to save Heka. Capturing this woman, the one who had sacrificed Heka. It could be the key. It was a risky strategy, but it offered a glimmer of hope.
Though Ansel was uncertain, he clung to that hope. He prayed the woman held no grudges against Heka or his family, that she might be persuaded to release him without resistance.
Even if she insisted on the sacrifice, Ansel was prepared to give in. His heart had frozen over with the coldness of necessity, but he could not accept the idea of condemning an innocent soul to suffer. It was a burden he bore deeply, a torment he shared with Heka.