The Crack In Heaven [A LitRPG Progression Fantasy] Chapter 8: Chapter 8: Light is Temporary, but Darkness Remembers

Read chapter 8 of The Crack In Heaven [A LitRPG Progression Fantasy] by Adamus_Auguste on NovelPedia.

Chapter 8: Light is Temporary, but Darkness Remembers Kael followed Els to her father's shack, an old house if it could even be called that. At the far end of the industrial district, drowned by the factories' toxic emanations on one side, dominating the cold burial pit on the other, it withered in the slums' lowest neighborhood. Kael knew these streets like the back of his hand. The soot-covered house of Marc, whose earnings at the lamp factory drew Edwin's, Walter's, and Ben's jealousy from their rusted homes. All four middle-aged miners with thin limbs, who had once shown that their hearts didn't share the same tint as their blackened faces. With awkward smiles, they had split slices of bread with his mom. Not much. They said it themselves, but much more than most had ever given them, and enough for him to grow up. Kael still hated these streets. The first thing he did when his mom died was to flee to Sister Harrow's shelter. People died from hunger and cold, but here, they died much sooner. Air vitiated, burning the throat even in winter, while the stench of decomposition from the depths of the burial pit melded with the cold. These streets infected his mom. They had killed her. "Did hunger finally blind you?" As he clenched his jaw, he bumped into Els. Without realising it, he stood in front of her shack. Without waiting for his answer, Els fished a copper key from her basket and unlocked the rusted door. "Dad, wake up. We have a guest who needs these clothes you can't wear anymore." Els pushed Kael inside, continuing, "I'm off to Lana's bakery. You can wait at the table." Someone stirred in an adjacent room as Kael sat on a rock that served them as a stool. He knew the house: scaly green walls of junk, a rug greyed by dust. Resting his elbows on the stone plank lying on two scavenged pipes, he watched Arthur emerge from his room. The man wore a shirt and coarse pants that floated over his emaciated body, his auburn hair reduced to a few vagrant strands. Coughing at the door, his sunken green eyes locked onto Kael. He was barely forty-two but looked twenty years older, a sight that made Kael bite his lip. "Kael, son. Is that you..." His voice died in a fit of coughs, but he glared at the bloody stains on Kael's bandages. As if to chase the cough away, he waved his palm and sat opposite him. "I thought you left Ashcoil Row for good three days ago. Seems reality caught up to you, as it did for us all. Accept you'll never visit Veston." Kael lowered his eyes, yet a steely glint still burned in them. Veston—the city above the slums. "Maybe. But I'll keep trying." "Sigh... When you have an idea in mind, I have more chances to hear the gods answer my prayers than to dissuade you, just like your father. He was a great friend and husband. I wish Kraghor had given him enough time for you to know him. May he rest in peace in his eternal realm, with your mother. How are you holding? Not your body. Don't tell me. I mean up there." Arthur tapped on his temple, his face twisted in grief. Kael glanced at the ledger on his lap. His memories... It was only after silence thickened for three heartbeats that he lifted his face, a forced smile twisting his lips. "Better than I thought I would. You?" Arthur let out a cough-punctuated laugh. "You're stronger than me, then. I never stopped hoping Cyan would return. She was like you, you know? She left believing she'd somehow escape the slums. She might already be dead by now..." "You never told us." "What would it have changed? Cyan, your father, Nessa... I'm just sad. Yes, sad that everyone left before I did. A cruel thing, you know? The mines take us all. My turn has come. I have the same disease that took your mother. I won't recover, Kael. But I can still hear you and Els playing in this room. We talked a lot with your father—ideas, hopes. You could inherit this house, start a family with Els. Marc thinks his shit doesn't stink, but if I talk with him, he'll slip a good word for you at the f