Rivers of the Night - Chapter 353

Chapter 353: Last Sliver
Theron took deep breaths, his body shuddering under the weight of everything he had been through today. He had just been healed back to his full strength, but now he suddenly felt depleted a bit.

The instant he relaxed just the slightest bit, he almost tipped over. He was ready to catch himself, but he surprisingly didn’t have to.

The Alpha caught him, its large head nudging him back upright. But even as it did so, they both looked back at the same time to see a hand within a shadow retreating.

An awkward sound from a clearing throat was heard.

“It… uh… seems I’ve been caught.”

The melodic voice of Sadie came from the darkness. Theron didn’t seem surprised, as though he had known that she had been there the entire time.

The Alpha didn’t know, though, and had messed up the timing of things.

These moments of weakness were the best instances of time to deal with an enemy lurking in the dark. When Sadie thought that he was stumbling, finally relaxing, he would have been prepared to launch a lethal strike.

But two things Theron didn’t expect happened. First was the Alpha stepping forward to catch him, and the second was Sadie’s arm not carrying any killing intent. It honestly… looked as though she was trying to catch him too.

Theron frowned, but the thoughts were wiped away cleanly, replaced by a look in his eyes that was impossible to read or track. It felt like he was a pane of glass—perfectly polished, and perfectly clear. You could see right through him, but no one truly understood the glass itself.

Its thickness could be anything—the journey it had been through, the sights and rays of light it had allowed to pass through it, even its strength… they were all unknown.

Fragile or sturdy, thin or thick, aged or brand new—who knew, aside from the ones that had observed it from start to end?

But who had the time for that? Who had the patience?

No one but family, maybe. A window in a home that had been fixed into place as the foundation of a new love, only to grow and flourish along with them as two grew to three, and then to four.

But when that love was ruthlessly wiped out, there was no one left to observe it.

Sadie’s eyes flickered as she watched the change in Theron’s eyes. There had been just the slightest hint of confusion there, but then it was suddenly gone, wiped away and replaced by that familiar gaze.

No, it wasn’t familiar.

He used to look at her differently. He used to truly dote on her—she had seen it. It was maybe the one time he wasn’t acting, that he wasn’t trying to put on a façade for others to see.

He had treated her—that version of her with the large, blinking innocent eyes and twin red pigtails—like he had a real little sister.

What Sadie hadn’t known back then was that that was probably the last piece of Theron’s humanity, the smallest sliver of something that he had held onto from his former self.

Now, the version of Theron who once used to like to sit by the window as the rain pelted down, raining unholy hell onto a familiar window, taking his time to flip the pages of a book he could smell the musty ancientness of…

Was gone.

She hadn’t realized it at the time. She had been on her own mission, and she hadn’t even known who Theron was at the time until she connected the dots unbeknownst to him.

But now…

It was hard to say. Could you even truly regret something you hadn’t done on purpose? Could you mourn an action you hadn’t taken consciously?

Then what was she supposed to do with this guilt on her chest?

From the moment Theron had found her identity, he seemed to have become different. Others couldn’t tell the difference, but she probably spent most of her time observing him now.

His actions had a more ruthless edge to them, a stony coldness he wouldn’t usually divert to, but one he now fully embraced.

There was no greater example of this than Malaya. Sadie truly didn’t believe that the Theron she knew would have dragged Malaya so far into these depths. But it was because of her that the last sliver of humanity he had was gone.

He was nothing more than a machine now—ruthlessly efficient, impenetrable, carrying a weight even entire Empires didn’t seem capable of, and yet doing it so easily…

Because he couldn’t feel his knees giving way. He couldn’t feel his spine cracking or his heart exceeding its limits.

Cool and unfeeling, he faced the world with the blade in his hand without the slightest change to his expression.

“… I’m sorry,” Sadie said softly.

There was another flicker in Theron’s eyes, not sure what she was saying. But even if he had the inclination to reply—something he wasn’t even sure he had in him to begin with—Sadie had already turned and vanished, her voice echoing.

“Either way, thank you for sparing my brother for now. I’ll understand if you kill him in the future, though I still hope you don’t. Even so… his actions and the burden of them are his own to bear…”

The sweet voice dissipated through the air.

It still felt so foreign to Theron’s ears. It didn’t carry the same almost biting annoyance a little girl’s voice should have had—Sadie’s original voice, the one that reminded him so much of his little sister.

It was so soothing, so mature, carrying layers that came from strife a little girl shouldn’t have had to have endured.

Maybe that was why he hated listening to the current Sadie. But he also knew that this was her true voice—such a perfect reflection of his own: gentle, measured, beautiful.

Theron couldn’t really explain it, not understanding himself. But for some reason… he felt very frustrated right now.