How to Make a Sinner Sleep - Chapter 46: Chapter 46

Kaden sat on his bed, confined within his own locked room as he stared out the glass window to watch students crossing the stone pathways, books under their arms and laughter in the air.
Although he'd found solace in Noah's presence, he'd insisted that the dragon leave on the night of the Devil's Moon.
The skies were dyed in the darkest black, not a star or a cloud in sight. He wasn't the only one remaining indoors—many, out of paranoia and superstition, chose to stay inside.
Others, however, like the students roaming outside, were more fascinated by the obscure moon and took it upon themselves to place themselves underneath it.
Classes weren't cancelled, but many took upon self-study or lessons that wouldn't injure a student if missed. Or so Niklas had said, after banging loudly on the door in the early morning, waking up Noah at the same time.
The dragon, while agreeing to leave the room, planted himself outside the door stubbornly and refused to move.
Kaden, recalling the hinges that had been broken last time he argued, agreed.
Noah had left to attend his lessons with Niklas, noting that he'd be back as soon as they were over, and that he would bring food with him even if Kaden refused.
The dragon had taken upon phrasing that insisted on no further arguments, leaving Kaden unable to refuse. It was the sort of stern and demanding tone, woven in the man's low and quiet voice, that nobody could say no to.
Kaden closed his eyes, leaning against the wall, utterly bored.
Funnily enough, he often wasted his time locked in his rooms, staring at the wall while thinking of nonsense and delusions, but it was different being forced inside.
He preferred to choose to isolate and waste his time. Being made to do so was completely different, and aroused a desire to protest. Of course, he wouldn't dare to risk anybody's safety because of his ailments.
The delusions were still there, ghosts of hallucinations that remained present. In fact, they were so vivid they could be mistaken for real.
He had been tempted to stalk over and waved his hand through, knowing it would phase past and prove it to be false, but he didn't. Couldn't. At times he felt like he was sitting upside down, or sideways, and suddenly the room was spinning.
And then it wasn't.
Noah hadn't said a word of complaint to whatever he saw while holding onto Kaden, hadn't even blinked at the strangeness that Kaden knew he saw.
Kaden was grateful; Kaden was guilty.
He kept dragging the dragon further into his own problems, and would eventually ruin Noah even further. What right did he have to pretend to be friends with this man, this future hero that was beloved and admired by all?
What right did he have to sit there, protected by Noah's kindness, knowing he would take part in the dragon's demise?
Sure, he had every intention to help Noah in the future, but he couldn't disobey Reed's orders. He couldn't disobey the fate he knew awaited—not entirely. Not with the curse branded on his skin, and not without changing the future for the worse.
It was the darkness talking, polluting his mind with thoughts more negative than his typical self-hatred.
Really, hating himself was just key to character development—he preferred to believe he was viewing himself objectively, and therefore there was nothing wrong with such thoughts.
Then, there was a steady rhythm of knocks on the door, polite and firm.
Kaden jolted, staring with a frown. It was too early for Noah to come back, and anyway, that wasn't the sound of Noah's knocks. His were a bit sterner, three short knocks in succession.
Whoever this was had knocks that had a slight of hesitation, dragged out despite their steadiness.
He grabbed a pillow as if it could be a sufficient shield, and crept toward the door suspiciously. "Who is it?"
"An old friend." The familiar response returned, a voice almost inaudible if he didn't listen closely, ears pressed against the wood. Kaden's eyes lit up.
He threw the door open, smiling broadly at the veiled figure draped in a cloak of starlight stars, shimmering and opaque, as if they were wearing the night skies. Kaden had never known how one could own such fabric, but assumed it was magic.
Older, and not much wiser, he now knew the existence of the Watchers and their Blessed. He wondered if this person might be one.
"I wasn't sure if you'd be able to show today, Night."
The nickname of his mysterious friend that visited him every year, solely on the night of the Devil's Moon. Kaden never knew the man's true face or identity, not even the age range he could possibly be, but he didn't care.
Although his visits were few, Night was the only companion he had in his cursed life, listening to his complaints and cries when he was young, and then offering steady advice when he was older.
Night couldn't do anything further to help Kaden, and the latter was sure that the hidden man had certain reasons with his existence cloaked in mystery.
He welcomed the man inside, closing the door with a soft click.
"You... locked inside?" whispered the figure, and Kaden shook his head.
"No. Well, yes. I locked myself inside—the night seems to be messing with my abilities. Speaking of which, is it safe for you? The backlash of my abilities, it might affect you. I forgot to mention it, I—"
"It's... fine. Don't worry."
"But, the delusions are really unpleasant. They're monsters stalking you at night. Your worst nightmares in vivid form."
The figure, slightly taller than Kaden, tilted their head. "Are you... alright?"
Kaden felt startled, before the corners of his eyes softened. The only person who cared for him, and while Kaden suspected their were secrets and reasons behind it, he didn't dare question them.
"I'm fine. Noah has been helping me—I'm thankful. I don't deserve it."
Kaden walked in a circle, then walked over to his bed and sat down with a somewhat youthful smile as Night took a seat beside him, the sunken imprint on the bed confirming that he wasn't an illusion.
Kaden considered it once, that he could've been hallucinating Night the entire time, a pathetic delusion of companionship that he couldn't obtain in reality.
But Night was real, because the advice and care he gave Kaden couldn't be imagined by the sinner.
Kaden couldn't visualize a person giving him much affection at all.
And because the King had caught a glimpse of Night once, frowning and calling guards after the ghost. Naturally, recalled Kaden with pride, the other had disappeared into the blur of the night without as much of a hair being caught.
Night's shimmering cloak of stars pooled on the bed, like a still lake reflecting the night sky. It was a wonder, on the Devil's Moon, whether all the missing stars had been stolen into that strange fabric.
But Kaden couldn't pry—he had tried once, and the man disappeared early that night, never appearing until the next Devil's Moon.
Kaden fell onto his back casually, without any inhibition. There was something about a friend you'd known since childhood, since the early days of innocence and freedom, that made one relax their guard.
He knew, the most terrible betrayal would not be if Noah or Niklas turned their backs on him, but whether Night's true goal went against Kaden. He trusted Night, in all their mystery and intrigue, but couldn't help doubt if something went wrong, if something went differently—
Because where was Night on the day of his exile, where had he gone then?
And honestly, did he want to know?
Night observed Kaden with a sharp scrutiny, the weight of his gaze heavy underneath the cloak's shielding. "The year... tell me."
It was a yearly routine, for Kaden to share everything that had occurred, both bad and good. He used to share details and complaints about Reed's torture, but realized that Night had always simmered with a strange tension when it was mentioned.
Therefore, as Kaden grew older, he preferred to share only the good things. With life full of negativity, he thought it was more worth their time to talk about the moments of joy.
He sat a little straighter, eyes a little brighter. "I've met many people, Night. I didn't intend to, not really, but I've seemed to become close to several. Noah, my roommate, Niklas, a servant to my family, Nicola, one of two student presidents. There's also Holly who loves gossip, and a little boy named Arlo who is attached to me."
There was something in Kaden's speech, the way he sat and spoke, that registered as cheerfulness in Night's simmering listening.
It was a radiating joy that wasn't obvious, but instead woven into his every movement and speech. Night understood quickly that perhaps, Kaden Chauvet, was walking towards happiness.
His shoulders that had been tense slouched slightly, and a hidden smile appeared underneath the cloak, unseen by the other.
"I also found a pet, Night. It's a cat of some sorts, they're investigating what beast it is, and whether it's safe for me to keep it or not. I hope it is—I've never had a pet before." Kaden trailed off.
When he was younger, he'd dearly wanted a pet, an animal to accompany him.
He'd spoke of his wishes to Night before, but it had been a long time ago. He'd almost forgotten about it too, until this instance.
It was as if his present days manifested everything he prayed for when he was younger, a small boy that sat at the window of a room far too large and lonely, praying to the stars for happiness. To witness a life worth living.
That was what Kaden Chauvet, at the tender age of seven in his first year adopted by the royal family, desperately hoped for.
He'd knelt on bruised knees and foolishly squeezed his eyes shut.
He prayed to the gods that might exist, to the skies that waited, and to the moon that watched and illuminated his narrow self. He prayed to the shadows of possibility, to the future yet to come.
And in the end, not even the universe could answer his prayers. He'd stopped the useless habit of praying to whatever he could grasp onto when he was twelve.
"Little... star."
The soft whisper of Night interrupted Kaden's darkening memories as he looked up, smiling at the nickname. The man he nicknamed Night, and himself nicknamed Star.
In other circumstances, Kaden wished he were born siblings to the other. He wished there were blood bounds that forced them to know and learn each other—a tie that was more guaranteed than the single meetings every year.
If he really wanted... there might be a way to determine Night's identity. The way his back remained posed and steady spoke of strict teachings, of possible nobility. The aura of elegance that could only be trained, and the air that foretold of danger.
"Night. It's been so long that I don't dare to ask who you are... but why do you continue to meet me everyday?" Kaden asked, tensing out of fear that the other would dash away into the night.
But Night didn't move, a perfect poise of simmering silence, sitting draped with a cloak of stars. Kaden could feel the stare—he was always good at noticing those.
"I've... known you since... young."
"I know." Kaden smiled softly. Night had been a frequent visitor from the earliest days of arriving in the castle.
He didn't remember much with vivid recollection, but he vaguely recalled Night speaking a little more in the past, a little more willing to share. At that time, there was something different—something less mysterious.
Back then, Night hadn't felt the need to completely obscure his identity.
Something had changed to make Night shutter himself away, reducing weekly visits to yearly, and erasing his speech into murmurs of words.
Night shook his head, a slow movement of solemnity that made Kaden frown. "Do you mean to say I don't know? But it's true—I remember you being there when I was young in the castle. I didn't... that wasn't a delusion was it?"
Kaden always had a habit of imagining things, conjuring images that he thought he could differentiate between reality and fantasy, but with the ability that had been submerged in his blood for so long, who knew what was really real or false?
On the streets, he remembered scrounging for scrapes of rotting fruit peels, for the slivers of meat left on eaten bones.
The child, with bleeding feet and tattered clothes, had curled up and smiled happily when chewing, imagining a luxurious and juicy apple instead of its peel, or a chicken drumstick that seeped with flavour and herbs, instead of its bone.
Reed had told him that once, that the reason he'd been chosen was because of the silly, stupid smile on his face that made him seem easy to manipulate.
Although supposedly, despite the younger Kaden's silliness, he was extremely vigilant and took an entire year to coax out of his room, to teach him to properly behave and settle into the castle.
And then in the year after, when he'd finally begun to loosen his tense limbs, to believe in the luxury that had stolen him off the streets, he realized he stepped into a worse hell.
Sometimes Kaden wanted to ask Reed, to beg him to answer truthfully and tell—was the year of happiness all a lie?
The one year that they'd spent as real brothers.
Or the year before that, when Reed, barely a teenager at that time, had sat outside his doors every night and told him of the outside world, of delightful foods and wonderful places beyond his imagination.
When Reed, without fail, would sketch beautiful landscapes and slip them under Kaden's closed doors.
Where after he was finally allowed inside the room, so long as he remained in the space near the door, waited patiently for Kaden to peek out from the covers, the ratted and filthy child that was more like a stray animal than human.
"Little star."
Kaden swung his head up, a flicker of despair and pain over his face. The two years, where he'd almost believed he had a real family.
Where Reed had been an existence akin to Night, but so much more real, and not limited to single visits every year. Really, Kaden had no right to complain, to wish for something he hardly had, and had no right to.
He smiled a wretched, torn sort of smile. "I was just thinking about what could've been. But that's stupid, right? Because the future that didn't happen was never meant to happen."
Night's expression was unreadable. Then, with an elegant raise of his arm, the cloak of stars enveloped Kaden and he was pulled close toward a warm body.
His eyes widened in surprise and a flicker of fear, before he was blanketed by the warmth of the brightest nights, the feel of a body—present, and not a delusion—by his side. Night was careful not to get too close, covering Kaden's vision entirely.
"Before." The man's voice didn't sound as faint anymore. "I knew you before."
"Before?" Kaden tried to raise his head, but Night didn't allow it, bundling the cloak on top of Kaden's mound of hair. "You knew the me of the slums?"
Kaden felt the person beside him nod, felt the cloak move with the movements and felt entirely confused. Before? When had they met, and under what name or identity did Night inhabit?
"I'm sorry, Little Star."
And Kaden, head bent low and vision buried under the cloth, frowned. Sorry about what—for a past misdeed done, or a future betrayal to commit?
He tried to ask more questions, to probe and at least confirm that Night wouldn't turn his back against him, but the man never replied. He kept Kaden under the warmth of his cloak sewn of starlight, coaxing the man into a deep sleep.
By the time Kaden woke up, Night had already left.