The Legion: Heartson

The familiar sound of Mason's footsteps accompanied him as he descended the grand spiral staircase. The Heartson Manor stretched out below him, vast and opulent, every corner of it carefully crafted and polished. The grand chandelier hung like a frozen mound of diamonds, the lights glinting off the marble floors that shone under layers of polish. 

He walked slowly, his fingers trailing along the smooth wooden banister, but there was no comfort here. The polished wood and the gleaming surfaces seemed dull and lifeless.

The manor was a beautiful cage, filled with the kinds of luxuries most people would envy. But it was a cage all the same, a hollow monument to a family that dealt in facts and figures, who saw the world in black and white, leaving no room for shadows.

His hand combed through his hair, nervously smoothing out the strands as he tried to prepare himself for whatever lecture was coming his way. He mumbled under his breath, half-formulating excuses, half-wondering if he could spin some story to soften the blow.

As he approached the foyer, his eyes found Claire and three other maids standing near the entrance, all poised and serious. His heart skipped, the thought of his cover being blown prickling his nerves. But the instant Claire spoke, her words derailed his spiraling thoughts entirely.

Claire: Your parents, Gabrielle and Samuel Heartson, will be returning to the manor tonight.

Mason froze, the carefully constructed excuses in his head dissolving instantly. For a beat, he could only stare, caught between surprise and bewilderment. 

What? They were coming back?

Claire continued, her voice as steady as ever. 

Claire: They'll be gone for an extended period—several more months than they'd planned. Something's come up with their company. As such, they'd like to have one more dinner with you before heading out.

Mason blinked, trying to process this strange twist of news. Relief washed over him, realizing this was not the confrontation he'd braced himself for, but his mind quickly filled with questions. 

What could be so important that it demanded their absence for months on end? 

Mason barely held back a scowl. 

What kind of parents leave for that long, anyway?

He let out a short, annoyed sigh. 

Mason: Whatever.

He muttered under his breath, a frown tugging at his face. But he barely got a few words in before Claire held up a hand, cutting him off mid-complaint.

Claire: I'm not finished. Your parents will also be taking all of the manor's staff with them. Every maid, butler, and servant. They'll all be needed to attend to their needs while they're away.

He blinked, his frustration giving way to confusion. The idea seemed bizarre, even for his parents' usual antics. Why would they need an entire household's worth of help for a business trip? What kind of company did they run that required such an entourage?

But before he could delve into his questions, Claire continued.

Claire: I'll be the only one remaining here. Of course my glorious self was entrusted to look after you in their absence.

The room seemed to hang in silence. Mason's mind whirred with the strange implications of it all. He'd never much cared about his family's business, never asked about the specifics of where all that wealth came from. And yet, a trip this... elaborate, one that took everyone, even the staff, was a curiosity he couldn't ignore.

Still, he wasn't about to let Claire see any hint of curiosity or worry. He shrugged, tossing her a scoff and a roll of his eyes.

Mason: It hardly makes a difference if you're here or not.

He stepped past her with a forced smirk, aiming for the front door. 

Mason: In fact, I was planning to head out on my own today, anyway. So don't think I need any company.

Claire didn't react, her expression as poised and unfazed as ever. Just as he reached for the door handle, her voice cut through the silence one last time.

Claire: Oh, and one more thing.

Her voice held a faint note of amusement, as though she'd been waiting for this exact moment.

Mason's hand hovered over the door, tension tightening his shoulders. He glanced back, and there was Claire, watching him with that knowing, almost infuriatingly calm smile.

Claire: Perhaps you should worry less, and try controlling your heartbeat. You needn't be so worked up. I couldn't care less about your lack of a school diploma. But if you don't learn to hide that fear, it will catch up with you sooner or later.

Mason's heart thudded painfully in his chest, his pulse betraying him even more under her perceptive gaze. For a moment, he could only stare, feeling exposed. Heat crept up his neck, and he yanked the door open, stumbling outside in a hasty bid to escape her piercing observation.

The doors of the manor closed behind him, leaving him alone, but her words lingered, haunting him with their quiet precision. He scowled, pushing the thoughts away. It was just Claire being... Claire, he told himself. 

Mason stumbled his way down the winding forest path, branches snagging at his shirt, tugging at his unkempt hair. He pushed them away absentmindedly, his gaze fixed ahead, jaw clenched. As he neared the edge of the forest and stepped onto the street, he shoved his hands deep into his pockets, shoulders hunched as he merged into the city.

His clothes, still wrinkled and a bit stained, felt conspicuously out of place here. And of course, he'd barely run a comb through his hair; it stuck up in haphazard directions, catching glances from passersby. A girl and boy around his age walked by, laughing about something he couldn't hear, and he caught their quick glances.

What are they laughing at?

It's not like I care what people like them think.

But despite himself, his gaze lingered on them a moment longer, the easy way they moved together, their hands brushing now and then. He felt a slight twinge and quickly shook it off, looking away.

Just extras. They probably robably can't imagine anything beyond this place.

His lips twisted into a smirk.

The streets began to change as he continued his path. The city bright lights and well-dressed people gave way to cracked sidewalks, peeling walls, and faded shop fronts. A few people lingered by doorways, slouched on benches, some stretching out empty hands, eyes hollow and pleading. One man's hand reached toward Mason as he passed, a wordless request, but Mason barely gave him a second glance. 

What do they expect? If they have no direction, no purpose or reasoning, why bother at all?

The thought left a strange taste in his mouth, but he pushed it down, walking faster as the distant hum of the city faded into silence. Ahead, the familiar alley loomed, looking just as it had every time he'd come here. 

This alley, this one, was different.

This was where it had all started.

He crouched down, eyes scanning the cracked pavement, fingers tracing over it as if it might somehow reveal a clue he'd missed before. His hand scraped against the cold ground, every corner of it as empty as the last time.

Nothing. 

Just the same dirty, forgotten alley. A place as meaningless as all the others.

His chest tightened, his fists clenching as he felt the anger boil up again. The creatures, the black flame, the proof of his purpose. The thought of them disappearing, of it all meaning nothing…

Mason took a shuddering breath, trying to calm the twisting feeling in his gut. He couldn't let that idea creep in. This—this was real. It had to be. He held onto that thought, clinging to it with everything he had, even as the empty alley seemed to stare back at him, indifferent.

Just then, a strange sensation crept over him, prickling at the back of his neck. He froze, his head snapping up. Something was wrong. His eyes darted upward, to the roof above. For a second, he caught what looked like a shadow, the faintest flicker of movement. Someone watching him? He stared hard, eyes narrowed, but there was nothing there, just the empty skyline and the faint hum of the distant city.

He forced a laugh under his breath, trying to brush it off. But his heart pounded faster, and he felt his fists tighten again. 

Who'd waste their time watching me, anyway?

With a deep, shaky breath, he rose, brushing his hands off and forcing himself to turn away from the empty rooftop. The thought still lingered in the back of his mind, gnawing at him as he stuffed his hands back into his pockets, his footsteps echoing down the alleyway. Nothing here today, same as every other day he'd come here.

Today didn't produce any results so I'll just I'll just have to take it easy and relax for now.

Tomorrow, I'll find something. 

Tomorrow.

And so Mason Heartson shoved his hands into his pockets and began his march back down to the gates of the colorless Heartson Manor.

Alone. 

Always alone.

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Samuel Heartson: Claire tells me you've been working hard 

Mason didn't bother looking up. He grinned as if the words bounced off him, shoveling food into his mouth, chewing slowly. It had been almost two months since his parents had bothered to sit down for dinner with him, and five months since the night that changed everything. The air between them was thin, stretched, like they were tiptoeing around something none of them wanted to acknowledge.

Gabriella Heartson: What have you been doing lately dear?

The question hung in the air longer than Mason liked. He considered his options, fingers twitching against the cold fork in his hand. He could tell the truth... but that seemed impossible now. He never liked lying to his parents—despite everything, they'd never kept secrets from each other before.

Before.

Mason: Oh, just buried in homework, you know.

He forced a casual shrug, the kind you give when you want someone to stop digging. His mother's eyes narrowed, the faintest flicker of disbelief in her gaze. She always saw through him. But Mason couldn't meet her eyes. Not this time.

He stabbed at his food, chewing with a deliberate slowness, hoping she wouldn't press further. His father's silence was heavy, Samuel's presence always felt like a shadow in the room. His mother, however, was persistent.

Gabriella Heartson: Mason... it's the summer.

There it was. The disbelief she didn't bother to hide. Summer. There was no homework.

Mason: Yeah, well... just trying to get something off the ground, you know? It's not exactly going as planned.

He heard the lie in his own voice, but he could convince himself it wasn't completely untrue. The black flame... figuring out what was going on with that counted as "something," didn't it? He was working on it, after all. The words tasted bitter, though, even to him.

Gabriella: You know, if you're having any trouble, you can always ask us for help sweetheart.

Her hand stretched across the vast dining table, her fingers wrapping gently around Mason's arm. The touch was light but it felt wrong—like she was trying to ground him when he was already slipping away.

Mason: I'm not a child anymore mom!

He forced a playful tone, even flashing her a quick grin. But the smile didn't reach his eyes, and hers didn't return it. She looked at him with that same worried expression, and Mason's irritation grew. Why couldn't she just drop it?

Gabriella: I know you're not, we know, but still, your father and I are worried about you. First, we heard you stopped attending your classes last semester…

Mason bit his lip and made a mental note to chew Claire out the next time he saw her.

Gabriella: …And then of course there was the incident in December.

There it was.

Mason: What does that have to do with anything!

His voice was sharp, harsher than he intended, and he saw the way his mother flinched ever so slightly. Just a twitch of her fingers against his arm, but it was enough. Enough to make him realize.

She was afraid.

Gabriella: Your behavior has been odd these past few months and I just need to make sure everything is alright with you. You're our only child and you know we would do anything to keep you safe, so if there is anything bothering you, please tell us.

Her voice was soft again, pleading, but all Mason could hear was the accusation beneath it. She didn't believe him. She never did. How could she ask him if something was bothering him?

Mason: If you actually cared, maybe you'd have tried to help me instead of leaving me in this place with nothing but servants to babysit me! Maybe if you took five minutes out of your precious day, you'd know how I felt!

Mason slammed his hands on the table and stood up.

Mason: Do you have anything to add, father? 

Mason glared at his father who was now wearing an uncharacteristically grim expression on his face.

His voice shook, his anger bubbling over, but Samuel didn't respond. He just shook his head, barely looking at Mason. Instead, he glanced toward his wife—his expression uncharacteristically grim, a shadow of something Mason couldn't place behind his eyes.

It was subtle, just for a second, but the way they exchanged that look—

Mason's stomach churned. He didn't wait for an answer. He stomped up the stairs, the echoes of his footsteps bouncing off the walls of the manor. When he reached his room, he slammed the door behind him, the force of it rattling the frame.