The sound of laughter drifted up from the street below, making him feel very alone in this new town. The view through the window showed stone paved streets bustling with crowds, the festive atmosphere permeating through the air and into every building.

Except for the holding cell that Zevir was located in.

Not that he minded much, it was a very normal occurrence with him being a thief and all. Truth be told, by midday today, he probably would have already escaped. Normally, he wouldn't have gotten caught in the first place.

But he didn't want to feel lonely today…

As if on cue, a cacophony of metal sounded as his cell door was spelled open, and in walked the person whom he had been waiting for.

“Sylvie! How nice to see you again! How have you been?”

Sylvester, the guard captain clad in his ceremonial armor and ready for the festival, did not respond to him.

Zevir was not off-put by the silent glare his childhood friend and pseudo brother had sent him. He had faced this same disappointment before and had grown numb to it over time.

Sylvester's gaze searched him, looking for familiar tells that might have given away what his thoughts were, but found none.

Frowning, he gestured for the guard to close and lock the cell door, leaving them alone in a room where no one would dare listen into.

Zevir stretched his hands, blatantly showing off the fact that they weren't chained together anymore before initiating the conversation again. “So, Sylvie, how's life treating ya?”

The guard captain did not move from his spot.

“Mine's been a bit of a rollercoaster lately. Can you believe the amount of security someone would put on a glorified rock?”

This, at least, got his attention, “You were the one that stole the Sacred Flame?”

The thief shrugged, “Maybe, maybe not.” All the chains that were keeping him in place were off now, and he stood up from his spot near the window and strolled closer to the other.

Lord Sylvester Worthwhile's blonde hair was cropped and shining like gold. His green eyes were steely with courage and determination and his ceremonial armor was intricate and elegant, entirely befitting his position as the Captain of the Imperial Guards.

In contrast, Zevir's previously snow white hair was dull and gray. His inhuman purple eyes shifted about the room, cataloging every little detail he came across. His skin was pale and gray, with his old and scruffy clothing blooming irritating red rashes across it every now and then.

What were once two orphan boys living together on church grounds, were now completely unrecognizable.

But Zevir did not drop Sylvester's gaze. He stared back at it with the same intensity he always had, with the same loose and gangly stance unbefitting of such a skilled fighter.

And Sylvester softened, just a bit.

He had not yet lost his brother.

Zevir tilted his head at the change, but ultimately decided it wasn't something worth looking into. He strutted back over to the barred window and let the iron bars crumble and fade away under his hands.

Before Sylvester could make a move to stop his escape, Zevir made a sound.

“Oh, almost forgot,” He rifled through the pouch he had kept from the guards, before pulling out a box wrapped in white cloth. “Made 'em myself! Completely legal!”

The thief tossed the package over to the guard, who caught it easily.

With his feet still planted at the edge of the window sill, Zevir smiled.

It was a soft thing, completely different from the mocking and sarcastic ones he usually had these days, and much closer to the ones he would give as a child.

“Happy Birthday, Sylvie.”

Sylvester's hands shook when he opened the package.

Chocolate chip cookies. His favorite. One he thought he would never have the right to taste again.

The sound of laughter drifted up from the street below, echoing through the empty room. Sylvester opened his mouth and spoke into the silence, his voice raspy and on the verge of tears.

“Happy Birthday, big brother.”

The cover image was created with Picrew and then edited in Canva!