Astria peeled her gaze away from Len's intense, honest face.
It felt as though the raw truth in his eyes was searching for something she wasn't ready to reveal.
With regal composure, she rose and moved toward the towering, intricately carved mirror.
As she sank into the velvet vanity chair, she studied her reflection.
Her face was a mask of calm, but her eyes were a storm of silent questions.
She picked up a brush and began to gather her silken tresses, which shimmered like captured stardust.
Through the silvered glass, she watched Len's every move as he sat behind her.
"Len..." she began, her voice perfectly measured as she started to tie her hair.
"Anyone you choose to make a friend... will you like them in the same way you like me?"
Len remained seated in that same upright posture on the sofa, looking like a miniature prince.
His spine was straight, his focus entirely on her.
"If I make someone a friend, they are a friend," he said calmly. "But I like you."
Astria's hands froze.
She set the brush down and locked eyes with his reflection in the glass.
"What do you mean by that, Len?"
She didn't turn around, but her voice carried a strange, heavy curiosity.
"Is the way of liking them both not the same?"
Len replied without a single heartbeat of hesitation.
"No," his voice resonated against the stone walls of the chamber.
"They are completely different."
In the mirror, Astria found her own face looking back at her like a stranger's.
She realized that Len's simple "No" held the key to a mystery she had yet to solve.
The flickering candlelight drew an invisible line between them.
On one side lay friendship, and on the other, a unique devotion that Len had reserved solely for her.
Len's lashes suddenly swept downward, shielding his gaze as if he were trying to contain a rising tide of something ancient.
His eyes remained fixed on the cold marble floor, but then, a chilling transformation occurred.
The familiar golden spark vanished; his pupils bled outward until the entire iris turned entirely obsidian—void and blank.
They were like an endless abyss that swallowed all surrounding light.
A cold, yet resolute smile drifted across his lips.
Without lifting his head, his voice resonated through the chamber like a hollow echo.
"I like you... that is all there is to it," Len said softly, yet each word carried a terrifying weight.
"If I make friends, I will treat them as friends. If I consider someone family, I will love them."
"But the one I like... I will protect them. Always."
Astria, who had been focused on her reflection, froze.
The sheer gravity of his words pierced through her regal composure.
She hadn't expected a mere child to speak of protection and loyalty with such haunting finality.
She whipped her head away from the mirror, turning her entire body toward him.
Her own eyes widened in disbelief, glowing with starlit hues of violet and deep blue.
Her stray tresses framed a face that was now a map of pure astonishment.
She stared at Len with a piercing, unwavering intensity, her breath hitching in her throat.
Len's head remained bowed, his obsidian eyes anchored to the floor.
Astria found herself speechless, her regal aura momentarily faltering.
It seemed impossible that a small child could possess such 'heavy' and seasoned emotions.
The very air in the sanctuary felt thick with the weight of his unspoken vow.
A promise of protection that felt far older than the boy himself.
A flicker of nameless dread danced within Astria's starlit eyes.
Her fingers tightened around the armrests of her vanity chair.
"Len..." her voice carried a subtle tremor.
"Do you even comprehend what you are saying?"
"These words... these declarations... they are far too heavy for a child."
Len offered no immediate reply.
Instead, he slowly raised his book, once again constructing a fortress of paper to shield his face.
"Yes," his voice emerged from behind the pages, muffled yet unwavering.
"I know exactly what I am saying. I understand everything perfectly."
He took a measured breath, as if deciphering the very molecules of emotion in the air.
"The way someone speaks... how they behave toward you... I can feel it all."
"I understand emotions very well."
Having said his piece, Len flopped back down onto the velvet sofa, as if he had merely commented on the weather.
Astria sat frozen in her seat.
She had never imagined that the boy she was trying to teach about the world was already an expert at reading it.
Suddenly, a blurred fragment of the past surged through her mind.
She remembered the day this 'blank' child had first opened his eyes.
Back then, he knew nothing; he was a void, a clean slate.
And then, the memory she tried most to suppress surfaced.
The moment her own emotions had clawed their way to the surface.
She saw it vividly: the way she had leaned in and kissed that innocent, uncomprehending child.
When he was in no state to process anything.
But today... today that same child was telling her that he understood every nuance of feeling.
Astria's heart hammered against her ribs.
Did he remember? Did he know what she had done?
Astria's breath hitched. She turned toward Len, who remained entirely submerged in the sanctuary of his book.
"Len... what exactly are you trying to say?"
There was a phantom of fear in her voice, as if she were bracing for a truth she wasn't ready to face.
From behind the pages, Len's voice emerged without a flicker of doubt.
"I like you."
Astria exhaled a long, shaky breath and fixed her gaze back onto the mirror.
"When you are older... we shall speak of this then," she said softly, trying to push the future away.
"I suspect by then, your thoughts will have changed."
"The world is vast, Len, and feelings are often fleeting."
"No," Len interrupted instantly.
For the first time, his voice held a resonance that belonged to a seasoned soul.
"I will never change this answer. It will always remain the same."
Astria's hands went still.
She studied the 'paper fortress' through the reflection.
"And what if..." she paused, her voice growing heavy with a hidden guilt.
"What if I have done something wrong to you?"
"And you realize, once you are grown, that I am not who you believe me to be today..."
"Would you still think the same?"
Silence blanketed the room, broken only by the faint hiss of the candle wicks.
Len slowly lowered his book.
His obsidian gaze was anchored with a terrifying stability.
"Yes," he said with absolute finality. "Completely."
Astria felt as though that single word had pressed a permanent seal upon her heart.
In the face of the boy's unwavering loyalty, she felt utterly defenseless.
Astria exhaled slowly, trying to anchor her racing heart.
'He is just a child,' she told herself.
'An innocent, naive boy who doesn't fully grasp the gravity of his own words.'
She set aside her inner turmoil and rose from the vanity.
Her heavy gown rustling like a dry autumn breeze against the marble.
When she reached the sofa, she leaned down and placed a gentle hand on Len's small shoulder.
Until that moment, Len's eyes had remained as black and void as a moonless night.
But the instant he felt her touch and lifted his gaze to meet hers, the obsidian darkness vanished like a broken spell.
Within a heartbeat, the familiar golden suns returned to his eyes.
As if the sun had suddenly pierced through a thick shroud of storm clouds.
"I think you should begin your practice today," Astria said.
Her voice regaining its formal, commanding edge.
She needed to change the subject, to escape the suffocating weight of their previous conversation.
Len shifted on the sofa, hugging his book to his chest with lazy comfort.
"No," he replied simply. "I'll do it tomorrow."
Astria stood there, momentarily speechless.
The haunting depth and gravity that had filled his voice just moments ago were gone.
In their place was the classic, stubborn defiance of a child who preferred his own whims over duty.
A faint, nearly imperceptible smile touched Astria's lips.
She thought to herself— 'Truly, he is just a child. Even now, he only cares for his own way.'
The solemn vow, the obsidian gaze, and the spirit of a protector.
All of it had retreated behind the veil of childhood once more.