Chapter 86: Diary Of A Brother

Avaris’ POV

I ran my fingers along the edges of the tattered leather cover, feeling its roughness. It was old but intact, unaffected by the fire that had destroyed the mansion. The diaries. The first family gift I ever received.

"When it’s needed, we can go through our thoughts."

That was what my mother always said. A record of our truths, a place to store the words we couldn’t say out loud.

I never cared for it.

I had thrown mine away long ago, treating it as an unwanted artifact from a life I never thought was real. And when the flames swallowed my past, I assumed the others had burned with it.

Yet here it was. My brother’s diary.

I paused.

It felt strangely heavy in my hands, like something I should not be holding or something that was prohibited. Opening the first page made my breath catch.

His handwriting. Timeless, beautiful, and flowing.

"I can’t believe I have a younger brother who is handsome like this. He’s just naughty and doesn’t listen to me."

I took a deep breath. I could practically hear his voice again, see the amused sparkle in his eyes as he scrawled in the margins, and feel the warmth behind the playful words. 

He had always been the responsible one, always looking after me, even when I made it impossible.

My grip tightened as I turned the page. The early entries were filled with exasperation, stories of my reckless antics and his reluctant admiration. He had loved me. Truly loved me.

But then, something changed.

"I don’t think I can keep it from Avaris anymore. Mom says we must do everything to protect him. Dad says he’s still family, even when all he has done is despise us for caring for him."

I frowned. Keep what from me?

The subsequent entries were more somber. The warmth dissipated, giving way to hesitation, to fear.

"My brother is a jerk."

A breath of laughter slipped from me before I could stop it. Typical. However, I continued to read, feeling my chest constricted with each line.

"Mom and Dad should just hand Avaris over and stop dealing with this man. I feel like we will die if we don’t. He says Avaris is a threat to the world. I don’t know why Mom and Dad care so much for him even when they know he will be our destruction."

My fingers dug into the leather cover.

"I know he’s my brother. I know Mom birthed him. But why are they willing to sacrifice us for him? What are they hiding?"

The words blurred.

I turned the pages more quickly and frantically now. There were some that had been torn out, wiped out. Others had been scrawled over, the once-careful handwriting marred by desperate ink marks.

Then I saw it. The last entry before the pages were torn.

"I have trouble falling asleep. He’s here. He said we don’t have a choice anymore. I think Mother and Father will hesitate. I swear if anything happens to them, I will kill Avaris with my own hand. The jerk isn't even here!"

The ink was smudged. A splatter of something dark along the corner of the page. My stomach turned over.

I slammed the diary shut. I felt as though the room's air was closing in on me and pressing against my lungs.

They had lied to me.

All of them.

I pushed my chair back with such force that it scraped the floor. With the diary still gripped tightly in my shaking hand, I stalked toward the door, my heart hammering in my ears.

Even though the house was silent, it felt incredibly loud because of the ghosts' echoes, which were whispering secrets I was never supposed to discover.

I needed to breathe.

With the chilly wind stinging my skin and the night engulfing me, I rushed outdoors.

But I barely felt it. My mind was still inside that diary, trapped in the words of a brother who had once loved me—who had feared me.

And I had no idea why.

... 

I barely remembered leaving my house. I had no room to breathe because my thoughts were colliding with one another like a storm. I still held the diary tightly in my hand, my fingers clenched around its spine as though releasing it would cause everything within to disappear.

Before I knew it, I was in front of his mansion.

When they saw me, the guards stood up straight, their hands moving to their weapons. With a cautious look on his face, one of them moved forward. "Who are you? Do you have an appointment?"

"Move," I growled and took a step forward.

They didn’t. Instead, another one blocked my path. "Lord Callum doesn’t receive visitors at—"

"Tell him to see me. Now," I interrupted, my voice wavering between anger and an unspecified emotion. "Or I will set this place on fire."

A strained silence ensued. The guards exchanged glances before one of them turned and disappeared inside. My chest rose and fell rapidly as I waited.

Then the door opened again.

"Bring him inside."

I was escorted in, the guards' grip still firm on my arms. The grand hall was with little light, the chandeliers above casting silhouettes along the tiled floors. 

Then I saw him.

With a crystal glass of wine in his hand, Callum sat at his desk and watched me as though he had been waiting for this moment all along. Although his face was unreadable, I could tell he was going to enjoy this because of the glint in his eyes.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," he mused, swirling his wine. "Though I suppose you have, in a way."

I clenched my fists. "You knew."

Callum tilted his head, pretending to think. "Knew what?"

"About the diary. About everything!" My voice cracked. "You let me believe I was hated, let me think I was alone while my family—"

I couldn't finish. My throat tightened painfully.

Callum set his glass down and leaned forward. "And do you think that changes anything?" His voice was low, almost gentle, but there was ice beneath it. "Do you think knowing the truth suddenly makes you the saint you imagine yourself to be?"

My breath hitched.

"You thought you were despised, cast aside," he continued, standing up now, his steps slow as he approached me. "But they were trying to protect you. Every decision they made, every lie they told—it was all for you."

I shook my head, stepping back. "No."

Callum smiled, but it wasn’t kind. "Yes."

My chest began to feel heavier. I couldn't breathe.

"You're selfish, Avaris." Callum's voice softened like he was speaking to a child. "You always have been. So tell me, now that you know—now that you've read every desperate word your brother wrote—what will you do?"

My hands trembled. I wanted to talk, to say something, anything, but I could not find the right words.

Callum sighed as if disappointed. Then, in the same quiet voice, he said, "The best thing you can do is—"

I felt a stinging object against my skin.

My vision blurred and I started to feel like I was sinking slowly. My limbs felt heavy, my head light. The last thing I saw was Callum’s impassive face watching me as the darkness swallowed me whole.