Chapter Text
Fire.
Hot, hot fire.
“Why?”
That sole thought ran in his head like a sheep chased by a wolf, the last thing he saw was the scarred, monolithic face of a man he once respected, feared, and envied all at once. The flames were hot, white heat covered his body as it disintegrated into thin air, leaving a crater of black and ash in its wake. It only took a few seconds, perhaps not even a minute, yet in those exact seconds was all it took for one’s body to disappear as if it never existed in the first place.
A man of red and black took a graceful fall next to his master, sweat beaded off his forehead despite the tundra surrounding them, fear of what will be done to him, perhaps, was all it took to keep his normally chatty mouth shut. It was odd, the face his master wore in that moment, closed off and distant was the norm, nothing changed about that, but those eyes…. His eyes appear to be holding, grief? Mourning? Or maybe even sadness.
“Strange…. Master was never one to mourn, much less the death of such an inconvenience”
Inconvenient was the kindest way to describe the boy known as Duke Grane, barely aged 17, who once had it all, money, fame, a good name to a family respected and revered by those in the awakened world, now he is nothing but ash, that is, if there even is ash left of him. Many know of him as selfish, weak minded, and most importantly, a traitor, even those within the Frame had some amount of dislike for him, some instinctual as if it were only natural to hate such a child, some from experience, having known him for the short 5 years he grew in those walls, Roist is one of them.
It took a while, but finally his master seemed to have tire from the scene, leaving with not even a breath of a word, his long legs not waiting for his main disciple to catch up to him. His aura was different, Roist thought, albeit there was no frame of reference to compare it to, for all he knows of his enigmatic master, he never had to kill a disciple before, even when training Roist in his youth, master Schnauder never once pushed him to the brink of death. “Is he mourning? Why would he mourn a boy he’s barely known?”, he was left alone to ponder in his thoughts as he trailed loyally behind his master. A sudden movement caused him to freeze, his master stopped, he froze as he took a long, suffering intake of breath, before exhaling into a sigh, it was only for a second, barely perceptible, but Roist could see the tremble in his master’s shoulders, “Never speak of his name again, he has disgraced my name, the Frame’s name”, was all he said before entering the Frame’s doors, never one to question, Roist simply followed.
.
Supri should’ve seen it coming, the horribly disfigured figure of that boy should’ve been an indicator enough, although, she never thought Schnauder would be the one to end his own disciple. The only warning that followed his disheartened speech was the bright, hot flash of heat before it dissipates into nothing, no body, no shadow, just ash. She couldn’t have stopped her shock on her face from showing even if she tried, there was nothing left of the boy, truly, but maybe that was a blessing, such pain he would have suffered if he were to live, death would have been a more favourable path, she had explained such to Muse, her poor disciple hasn’t recovered yet it seems.
In hindsight, in a more perfect world, it would have been sad, Duke was only 17, the youngest of the disciples taken in by her and Andrei combined, the youngest Schnauder had as well currently. She can’t say she liked the boy, he certainly doesn’t make it much easier for himself, such a brash, arrogant, and selfish child, even when they first took him into the Frame’s embrace at age 12. “I wonder if he will ever mourn that one” she mused to herself, she certainly would if she had to take her own disciple’s life, but Schnauder is not that kind of man, surely easing the suffering of one disciple wouldn’t bother him much, and if it did, it wouldn’t for long, she doubts he has the heart needed for that kind of empathy.
.
Even after the explanation of his master, the shock of it all still hasn’t faded. He was there just a moment ago, barely even a second, and then he was just….. gone. Such is the power of a Top 10, Muse supposes, Lord Schnauder seemed almost disheartened by his death, if his long lingering gaze at the very spot the boy once knelt was any indicator, he wonders if he will ever mourn him. Surely his master would mourn his death, will anyone be sad for Duke? Muse himself didn’t know him all too well, the kid made it hard for anyone to actually like him, even after 5 years of watching him be raised in this dark fortress, he was much of an enigma to him much like he was to anyone else, it reminds him of Lord Schnauder somewhat. The battle itself was foolish, the boy so desperate to prove himself he ended up cheating, again, and still lost, along with his life, Muse was surprised the Lord didn’t have his head the first time he heard the news, though maybe he was curious of the end result, surely this wasn’t the outcome anyone was expecting.
In a way, Muse was sad for the boy, so at least there is one person to mourn for him, somewhat, he was so young, so much potential if only his anger and hatred didn’t consume him the way it did. Who was to blame? His upbringing? His personality? The Frame? Lord Schnauder? The questions were endless, yet there is no time for that today, Muse still has tasks to attend to, students to be quelled, an organization to manage, although slightly unusual, today is a day like any other. With that thought, he left alongside his beloved master, already making a mental checklist of what to do and what needs to be done for the day, leaving the nameless grave behind to be forgotten.
.
For a moment he could only stare at the black and ashen crater left by his disciple, former disciple, he’s gone now, he made sure of that, a quick and painless death is what he ensured to give. It was hot still, the heat making the snowy landscape before him almost invisible, the fire in his hand hasn’t vanished still, if he closed his eyes he could see those desperate red eyes looking directly at him, and for some unknown reason it made his chest hurt, his heart ache, and his eyes stung. He didn’t know how long he stood there for, he didn’t care, he can’t stay there any longer, the weight in his chest grows the longer he stands there and he knows he would not be able to breath, and so he left, vaguely he can hear Roist struggle to keep up with his pace, he couldn’t bring himself to care.
It took him a while to regain his composure, he knows his only disciple is still following him, the loyal dog he is, he stops when he sees the gates, if he holds his silence still he will worry Roist, which will make rise to suspicion, he can’t have that. “Never speak of his name again, he has disgraced my name, the Frame’s name”, he is not naïve enough to not know that Roist can see the subtle shaking of his shoulders, they have known each other for far too long for such “secrets”. He does not know why he feels this way, no death of any child that has occurred within this organization since its birth has shaken him to his core the way his did, has he ever taken the life of one so young before? If he has, he doesn’t remember, all he knows now and will remember for an eternity is that he has taken a life, a boy, and he will live with it as long as he lives. But he has a job to do, he is Lord Schnauder of the Frame, one of the Top 10 in the world, he cannot afford this weakness, he has to power on.
If only his hands could stop shaking.