As Thorsten's memories began to fade back into his head and his headache cleared, he was left to silently process the weight of what he had just seen.
Pain.
So far beyond what a child his age should have to go through.
Even now, as the pain in his head ceased and his mind became clearer, his heart was still heavy with the grief and longing Thorsten felt for his mother.
It was a feeling he could understand well.
It was a feeling he could understand well.
For him, there had been no farewell; no trembling smile or hand to caress his face.
Only a phone call.
Then a sombre drive beneath a bright sky that did not care.
And a hospital corridor where no one would meet his eyes.
He had cried then.
Cried until his throat burned and his chest felt hollowed out. Cried until there was nothing left inside him to break.
And when the tears finally stopped, they never truly returned.
The pain felt after losing a loved one leaves a scar that would never truly heal, no matter how much time passes.
So, to fill that void and remedy that pain, all you can do is cherish the memories you had together and cherish those who are still with you.
At the very least, he sincerely hoped that this advice would reach the part of Thorsten that remained inside of him.
He sighted, a deep, exhausted breath and slumped back against the bench, before returning his attention to the field in front of him.
The headache may be gone, but being forced to experience those memories left him mentally drained.
To the point that he wanted nothing more than to fall asleep and wake up to find out that this was all just very, very detailed nightmare.
But it wasn't, and the lingering emotions in his chest were enough to chase away any stray thoughts about this being anything less than real.
This was not scripted nor predestined to happen. Nor was it some cutscene he could fast–forward or a dialogue box he could skip.
Even if he closed his eyes and tried to distance himself from the memories, the sweet scent lingering in the air stirred emotions he would rather have remained buried.
He tried to steady his breathing. To push it down.
Folding the memories back into the quiet corner of his borrowed heart where it belonged.
Maybe that was why this garden—and his mother—had never been mentioned in the original game. The memory of her might have been too much for that Thorsten to endure.
Because that loss left a hole that could never be fully sealed.
And through its cracks, regret and grief seeped endlessly, weathering the mind until numbness felt like mercy.
It was a mercy that came at a heavy price, one that would be hard to realise until you sought out what it took.
He clenched his trembling hands around the fabric of his trousers and raised his head; searching for that calm that he had felt earlier—hoping that it could quell the bubbling emotions in his chest.
What he saw was a mosaic of purples and violets, blurred by the tears gathering in his eyes—tears he could not confidently say were entirely his own.
Thorsten's small frame seemed to shrink further as he trembled like a lamb in a snowstorm.
"Ah…"
But before the weight could crush his heart, a gentle hand settled atop his head.
It was warm.
"It's alright," Ferzen murmured. His voice was softer than Thorsten had ever heard it. "I miss her too."
The words were simple, yet they managed to quell the rising tide of emotions threatening to swallow him whole.
They would never go away; he didn't expect them to. But for now, this was enough.
Ferzen's hand remained there, fingers brushing lightly through his hair in a quiet, absent gesture of comfort.
No more words were said after that.
They were not needed.
Even as the rain began to fell, they simply stayed together beneath the quiet sky, the scent of flowers drifting between them, carrying both memories and feelings unsaid.
*****
When they were finally ready to leave, they simply stood up and began on their way back inside the palace.
No words were exchanged between them; there was nothing to be said, because the only ones who could receive them had already passed.
But that was fine, or at least it was starting to be.
Thorsten kept his eyes on the path; making sure to remember as much of the turns and flowers along the way as possible.
He had a feeling that he would be returning there more often. And as much as he would like to say it was for Thorsten's sake, he couldn't deny the calm and comfort he had felt there.
So, it wouldn't hurt to have a place where he could seek that peace again.
As they walked, Thorsten found his eyes constantly drawn to the silent back leading him forward.
From where he was, Ferzen's back stood like a stone fortress—strong and unyielding, even after countless sieges.
Something that has weathered countless storms and remained standing despite the winds strong enough to uproot century-old oaks.
And yet… there was a quiet solitude to it. The kind that came from bearing too much without complaint.
His presence had brought him a steadying strength when he needed it most. And although those words may not have been meant solely for his ears, they had truly touched his heart.
It may have only been a brief moment, but he had felt seen—not as an imposter wearing borrowed skin, but as a son.
'It was… nice.'
To have someone at his side. Someone who would steady him, push him forward, and allow him to spread his wings.
'If—If only we could have supported each other like this… maybe we could have grown closer.'
He cut the thought of before it could reopen old wounds.
The past was the past.
And no number of what ifs could change what had happened.
So, all there was left to do was learn from it, and to avoid making the same mistakes from back then.
'Yeah… it's far too late for what-ifs.'
His gaze lowered, and he matched his steps to Ferzen's once more.
The small clearing gradually disappeared behind the tall hedges as they retraced their steps through the winding paths.
The glass-like petals no longer caught his eye; instead, he was met once more with precisely trimmed shrubs and carefully curated flowerbeds.
Their methodical and intentional placement really made the flowers from earlier stand out in his mind, not simply because of their appearance but due to the atmosphere they had created.
By the time the palace walls rose fully into view beyond the greenery, the quiet intimacy of that corner already felt set apart from the rest of the world.
When they finally reached the palace's front door, they were greeted by two patrolling guards wearing the midnight–and–silver livery of the Baylith family.
The two stepped aside to clear the way and moved to perform a salute almost in sync—one arm folding neatly behind their backs while the other cup up sharply, fist striking the centre of their chest with an audible thump.
Ferzen paused and returned their salute with a firm nod before continuing past them towards the palace's main entrance.
Thorsten's followed his father's lead and greeted them with a nod; his eyes lingered on their form before dipping to the swords resting on their hips.
'That's different...' He thought to himself, choosing to leave the thought in his mind for latter.
Because as curious this was, he didn't really feel like delving into this yet—especially while he was still out in the open.
Thorsten ran a hand through his hair before setting his eyes on the open door, where Ferzen waited at the threshold with his hands calmly clasped behind his back.
He stepped forward. His gaze drifted past Ferzen to the red carpet stretching into the palace, leading toward a hallway beneath a spiralling staircase.
'Yea… it's definitely something,'
He couldn't help quietly admiring the palace's grandeur.
The designs used in this palace were on the simpler side when compared to those found in many residences of similar size. Yet to his modern eyes, it still looked like something plucked straight from a fairytale.
It wasn't exactly what he'd describe as magical or enchanting, but instead as overly designed.
Almost everything bore some kind of intricate carving or decoration: curling patterns, animals worked into the wood and stone—all small details that captured one's attention.
And it wasn't to the point where it all the details would ruin his impression of the whole.
But to someone who had grown up in a world where modern architecture had traded individuality for streamlined efficiency, the sheer amount of detail was a little overwhelming.
A small weight on his head pulled him out of his thoughts.
Ferzen's large hand gently ruffled his hair, before he removed it and started on his way up the stairs.
He paused halfway up, turning to Thorsten and said, "There is still some time before dinner, so you should rest?"
Thorsten responded with a small nod, "Yes, father."
Ferzen gaze stayed fixed with his sons for a moment longer, and the image of 'her' that was reflected in his clear blue eyes, before continuing on his way up the stairs.
Thorsten's eyes followed his father's back until it disappeared up the stairs, and even then, they lingered on the corridor he had entered, long after the sound of his footsteps had faded.
When the moment finally passed, a tired sigh escaped him as he ran a hand through his tousled hair.
For a while he simply stood there, letting the quiet settle around him.
His eyes wandered to the railing of the spiralling staircase, where flowing patterns had been carefully carved into the wood.
He narrowed his eyes at the railing of the spiralling staircase, where flowing patterns had been carefully carved into the wood.
That part at least felt familiar. It reminded him of the ornate railings he had once seen in an old library back on Earth.
But the pillar beside it made him pause.
A ring of sharp-eared animals had been carved around its base, each one staring outward with exaggerated detail.
'Who in their right mind would want something like that in their house?'
It clashed strangely with the rest of the palace's design, which seemed to favour softer patterns like flowers, vines, and flowing lines.
Thorsten stared at it a moment longer before shaking his head.
'…What am I even doing?'
He had far more important things to deal with than nit–picking the interior of a house he didn't even pay for.
Thorsten let out another sight, then started on his way towards his room.
He opted to take on taking the long route there instead of going up the same way his father had gone.
Instead of going up the same way as his father, he opted for the long way to give himself time to clear his head.
It was also a way to kill time before dinner—and with the birds in sight, all there was left to do was cast the stone.
And it wasn't like he could get lost in his own home.
"… Right?"
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A/N: Honestly, this chapter came out much, much later than I had intended –– I also wanted to use this as a chance to test out the note function.
And as surprising as it may be, the part that was hardest for me to get down was actually everything after the garden scene, lol. Can you believe that?
I really hope that the emotions in that scene came out as well as i had envisioned.
Thanks to all of my reader(?) who have made it this far, and don't worry to everyone whose made it here.
And while we're close enough to the topic, please feel free to give me your thoughts on the Thorsten and the story so far? Any feedback will be appreciated.