Darhan had never felt this, this unpleasant yet uncommon pain. Even when his mother and grandfather had forced him to take a life, he hadn't felt like this. Growing up in the Legion was no simple matter. For him, it meant becoming a monster, a ruthless assassin. Darhan was lucky to have escaped before he lost his soul entirely…
This pain was so different from what he knew. He had identified when it had started and in particular the reason.
It had been since that day. Since that night.
He remembered in detail everything that had led to this. The alerts they'd received announcing the presence of Grandfather and his Assassins. He remembered how quickly they had come out and who had teamed up with whom. He remembered teaming up with his father, Malcolm with Luka, Jillian with Genesis and Sasha, and most of all Isaac and Jaycee together. They'd gone as a team and ended up alone. The tactic often employed by grandfather, divide and conquer.
Isaac and Jaycee. The Dream Team, as Malcolm often called them. Darhan had seen them in action on many occasions, and could only agree with Malcolm.
They had this ability to understand each other in a single glance, as if they were able to read each other's slightest micro-expressions. Just as Jillian had grown up with the ability to read others in a glance as her only language, so they did, but only with each other. The first time Darhan had seen them working together, he'd been almost speechless, but he'd started investigating on his own. Something was emanating from them that he didn't understand, and it disturbed him. He wanted to know. He needed to know. But then things got constantly crazy and Darhan lost sight of his “mission”, his need to know.
Until that day. Until he heard Jaycee's panicked voice. Until they lost contact with him. It was the longest five minutes he'd ever known. He remembered the cries of his father and the others, begging Jaycee to tell them what was happening. He remembered arriving on the scene at the same time as his father and Malcolm. And finally, he remembered Jaycee's tears, Isaac's lifeless body, and the blood. So much blood… It was far from the first time he'd seen it; growing up in the Legion had tended to desensitize him. And yet… it was Isaac's blood… He never thought he'd be so affected, but here it was, and Darhan wasn't sure how to react. How to live his… mourning.
The first evening after the funeral, he'd avoided even looking at Isaac's bedroom door. Then a day passed, then 2, and finally a week.
It was 4 a.m. when he found himself in front of the room. Everyone was fast asleep.
It was 4.30 a.m. when he finally entered. He had rarely entered the room, and never without Isaac's permission. He switched on the small light on the small table. Nothing had changed, everything was clean and in its place. He stood there, in the middle of the room, observing every corner, every detail. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, or if he was really looking for anything at all. A few minutes passed before his gaze came to rest on his desk. There was an open notebook, a laptop, a jar with various pens and pencils, but mostly photos. Him with his friends, him with them, just them, him with Jaycee.
Darhan took it in his hands and stared at it as if it held all the answers to his questions. It was a selfie taken by Isaac. In the shot, he was wearing the biggest smile Darhan had ever seen on his face. Jaycee was glued to him, one arm around his waist. He was grinning ear to ear, never having seen him so happy. Jaycee and Isaac looked into each other's eyes, their faces strangely close. He wasn't sure he understood what he was seeing, it was incomprehensible. Why did they look so happy? He'd never seen them like this when they were with them.
Darhan didn't know why, but this photo hypnotized him. The more he looked at it, the more he realized he was missing something to understand it.
He sat down in the middle of the room, the photo firmly in his hands. He wanted to understand. He had to understand.
Why Isaac's disappearance was so painful… Why?
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