The words burned no worse than a palm on his throat. Omega's whole body shuddered, as if the gray fabric was biting into his skin not with fingers, but with bare iron. He did not scream, even now, when the pain was tearing inside, not letting him breathe. His hands were still holding onto the railing, but there was no strength in them. His fingers were slipping, his knuckles were white, and his breath was getting shorter, as if the air itself refused to stay in this body.
"A worthless slave..." Serak's voice became lower, almost lazy, but in each word there was the poisonous slowness of an executioner savoring every gesture. "Did you really believe that you deserve something more than silence and a corner in a stone house?"
Omega tried to say something. Probably even for the first time, in order to prove to himself that the thought stuck in his throat could be spoken. But his lips were dry. His body trembled incessantly. His throat tightened. He was vomiting air.
Serak moved closer to Omega's lips, still holding the collar of his shirt. He lifted him higher. Omega stood on his toes to keep from suffocating. His body arched, as if begging for mercy, though his mind refused to allow the plea. It was all happening too quickly and too quietly for the guards to react. Or maybe they were watching. Maybe it was part of the order.
"You wanted to feel the flowers," Serak whispered, so close that Omega could feel the wetness of his breath on his cheek, "now feel how much you still are alive."
And he took a step forward.
Omega's body swayed back. The balcony became an abyss. His heels touched the stone edge, and suddenly the entire castle was gone. There was only the wind, the naked heights, and the feeling of being pushed into the abyss. He did not scream. Even when his breath came out in a jerk, and his heart fluttered in his neck.
Serak froze. He looked at him not as a man, not as a servant, not as property. He looked at him as a possible disappointment.
"Well then," he said almost tiredly. "Show me what you're good for, if you want to stay in this body."
His hand let go of the collar.
Omega fell to his knees. The blow was sharp, the stone flared under his knees with pain, but he still held on to the ground with his hands, his forehead almost touching the floor, his chest - gulping air like a drowning man. He did not look up. He did not know how.
Serak walked away slowly, not taking his eyes off the omega. Then, he slowly walked past, as if nothing had happened, and did not even utter a last word.
But Omega was still kneeling on the edge.
Something strange was growing inside him. Not anger. Not resentment. Not even fear. It was something else, dark, thick, slowly filling him from the inside, like embers smoldering under his skin. He didn't know the name of this feeling. But it didn't want to die.
The door opened with a dull thud, and Serac stepped into the office. His breathing was hoarse, his chest heaving, as if the air itself was resisting entry into his body.
The first crunch came when he knocked a vase off the table. The shards scattered across the floor, causing no reaction from him. His elbow caught a shelf, and the books fell, revealing the wall. His hand swept across the table, sweeping away an inkwell, documents, candles, letters. Everything flew down, as if the space itself had to feel his fury.
<...!>
Eggy appeared with lightning speed. He entered the battlefield, his gaze immediately piercing the office, and the tension was instantly transmitted even to his hair. His already sharp needles on his head took on a dangerous look. Now they looked more like a sting, as if Eggy's body itself was entering combat readiness mode.
"Master,"he said calmly, but firmly. "You need to stop."
Serak, who was standing by the window, grabbed the back of the chair, as if he wanted to crush the wood with his fingers. He did not look at Aggie, only exhaled, his voice was hoarse, heavy.
"It's all in vain. He will not wake up. He is empty... Empty. Not even that... Too soft!"
Eggy approached slowly, without making any sudden movements, watching how the muscles in Serak's shoulders twitched.
"He is not empty," said Eggy, trying to soften his Master's anger. "He is afraid. And he does not yet understand who he is. But that does not mean that there is nothing in him. Magic... does not wake up from fear. You know that yourself."
Serak turned around abruptly. His eyes were full of the light of anger.
"Then tell me, Eggy, how much longer should we wait? ? I need strength, not a porcelain doll that is easier to break than to understand."
Eggy looked down. The hair on his head settled smoothly.
"Then why didn't you destroy him as soon as you saw that he was not living up to expectations?"
A multitude of meanings rushed through the silence that followed this question. Serac did not answer right away. He turned away, looked at the balcony, through the stained glass. It was still daytime there.
"Because," he said finally, "I have already lost all hope of restoring the soul that left me. Perhaps out of despair, I grasp at any opportunity. Am I stupid?
Eggy took another step forward. He could not answer the sovgeo Lord's last question honestly, because then he would have died a painful death. But after a little thought, he decided to smooth things over for both of them.
"Then do not break him. If he is the key, then it will not open under a fist.
Serak squeezed his fingers, as if he wanted to pierce his own thoughts with them. But he didn't answer. He just closed his eyes and inhaled, long and deep.
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale.