“I taught men how to fight. How to survive.” His voice deepened, carrying the weight of past battles.
My eyebrows arched slightly.Me too.
“I trained knights. Royalty. I was a war consultant—advising kings and queens on tactics that would decide the fate of nations.”
His voice turned distant, his eyes dark with memory.
“I built my own training school. I worked with… certain types of people. People who needed my help.”
His gaze locked onto mine, and for a fleeting moment, I glimpsed something hollow behind his eyes—something vast and endless, like staring into the gaping mouth of a cavern that had no bottom.
His voice dropped almost to a whisper. “But something was missing from my life.”
The fire cast long shadows across his face, accentuating his features. “Love. That was the missing equation. I never had time for a relationship. I was too busy. Too focused. Consumed by my mission.”
A weary hand dragged down his face.
“And then, I met the woman who would become my wife—Cora.”
His eyelids fluttered shut as if savoring the memory. When he opened them again, his face looked different, etched with a grief so deep that it was as if someone had taken a feather quill and carved it into his skin.
“Cora came from a poor family. That didn’t matter to me. I gave her everything.” His voice softened. “She took away my pain in my darkest times. When the weight of my work threatened to crush me, she was the light that pulled me back.”
Silence filled the room as Mathias rose from his chair, crossing the space. He stopped before the fireplace, staring into the glowing embers as if searching for an answer, a ghost, a memory long lost.
Then, he crouched, lifting an oak log from the metal holder and placing it carefully atop the smoldering coals. His hands settled on his hips as he watched the flames curl around the bark, licking it to life.
Emily and I exchanged a glance.
We knew where this story was headed.
Tragedy.
Still, he remained in front of the fire as if gathering himself for another moment. Then, finally, he turned and returned to his chair.
“When I met Cora, I told her I could give her the world.”
He glanced at Emily, and the corners of his lips lifted in a faint, wistful smile for the first time since he began his story.
“I see my wife in you sometimes, dear Emily. She was as sweet as you are.”
Emily’s cheeks flushed. She folded her hands in her lap. “Thank you, Mathias. But surely, she was far more remarkable than me.”
Mathias exhaled, shaking his head. “Oh, Emily… if you could only see yourself the way others do, you would know what an exceptional beauty you are.”
She cast her gaze downward, saying nothing.
Mathias stretched his legs, resting his hands on the armrests. “But back to the story. For a time, everything was perfect. Life was beautiful. We married, and soon after, we were blessed with a child. I entrusted my school to another so I could focus on fatherhood.”
His expression shifted—his jaw tightening, his fingers curling slightly.
“But, in truth… I was terrified.”
A short, humorless scoff escaped him. “Me. I was a man in the prime of my life, a warrior who had trained men to become formidable soldiers. I had faced death more times than I could count.” His lips quirked, but it was bitter, self-deprecating. “‘It’s just a child,’ I told myself. ‘I’ve trained warriors. I can handle a small, squirming baby.’”
But then, his expression collapsed.
The sorrow, the raw ache, settled in his features like a burden he had carried for far too long. His gaze drifted back toward the window, watching the relentless snowfall.
