ASSISTANT
**Chapter 1**
"Have you noticed Steven lately?” Ever’s sister, Lira, whispered low across the wooden bench in the bustling market square, glancing nervously around before leaning closer to her friend, Myra. “It’s like he’s become… invisible. Remember how he used to be? Always cracking jokes, making us laugh even when things looked grim. Now, I swear, the only time anyone’s seen him leave that little house of his, besides when Everest—" She paused, fingers tightening around the strap of her basket. There was a weight in her chest, a sinking feeling she couldn’t shake. “The only time he left was Everest’s funeral, and even then, he didn’t say a word. No goodbye, no tears, just… nothing.”
Myra frowned, brushing a stray chestnut lock away from her face, her eyes reflecting the fading warmth of the late afternoon sun. "I didn’t think he’d shut down that way. I mean, Everest was his whole world, sure, but—"
Lira cut in swiftly, voice barely above a whisper. "You don’t get it. You don’t *know* what Steven’s been through. The way humans treated him before we took him in. It’s… harsher than you can imagine. They mocked him, ostracized him because of that tail—because he was different. It wasn’t just teasing. They made him feel like a freak. Like some kind of mistake. That’s why he moved here, to Ravenwood. To somewhere he thought he could belong. Everest—Everest was the first person who saw *him*, not just the tail or his oddities. She was the one who held his hand and made him laugh. Made him feel loved. And now—"
Her voice cracked, the rest lost under a shuddering breath as her worried eyes scanned the open square. “He hasn’t smiled since she died.”
Myra reached over, squeezing Lira’s arm firmly. “We should check on him, then,” she said, tone steady and determined. “It’s not right leaving him in this dark place.”
Lira nodded slowly, the knot in her heart tightening like a vise. The forest’s shadows lengthened in the fading light as the two women set out toward the outskirts of the village, where the dense thicket of Ravenwood gave way to a sparse scattering of houses.
***
The little cottage was tucked beneath broad-leafed trees, its wooden shingles darkened by moss and age. The garden was overgrown; wildflowers and weeds tangled in a confused dance, and no smoke rose from the chimney. The door’s paint was chipped — worn down by weather and neglect.
Lira’s knuckles rapped softly on the door. Inside, the faintest sound of muffled sobs drifted out. The door was unlocked.
“Steven?” she called gently, stepping inside. The scent of cedar and lavender mixed faintly with the stale musk of disuse. The living room was dim, little sunlight filtered through the heavy curtains.
She moved cautiously toward the bedroom at the back of the house. The sound grew louder—broken, ragged breaths in the shadows.
Opening the door, Lira’s breath caught.
Steven sat on the edge of the bed, hunched over in a thick forest green hoodie, the hood partially drawn up over his head. His back was turned, but Lira recognized the gentle curve of his lizard tail curling over the edge of the mattress, twitching spasmodically. His hands were trembling as they clutched something to his chest, his whole body shaken by violent, gasping sobs.
In his arms nestling close to his chest was Everest’s old stuffed animal—a small, threadbare fox they’d both loved as kids.
He didn’t notice her at first, too deep in his grief. His shoulders rattled like a leaf caught in a sudden gale.
“Steven...?” Lira’s voice was barely a whisper, cracked with compassion.
His horror-stricken gaze snapped up—wide, unblinking, pupils dilated as if startled by a sudden light. He stiffened violently, curling into himself, wings of panic rising in his chest.
“Oh—hey, Lira,” he whispered hoarsely, voice thick and fragile. He wiped at his cheek awkwardly, clearly embarrassed. “Didn’t… expect anyone.”
Lira took a slow breath, letting her heart soften before speaking again. “I just wanted to see how you were holding up. We’re all worried.”
He glanced down, fiddling with the edge of the fox’s worn paw like it was a lifeline. “Yeah, I’m… okay.” His tone was flat, and the lie hung stark in the air.
“You’re not okay,” she said gently, stepping closer. “You don’t have to pretend with me. Ever’s sister, remember? And—”
“Ever was the only person who ever really got me,” Steven interrupted, voice breaking. “The rest of the world… they don’t understand. They never did.” His tail flicked erratically, betraying the storm inside. “I don’t get all their... *elf rules*. The way they talk in riddles, all graceful with their light steps and long words—it's like they’re speaking some other language. I’m just... me. And that was fine when Everest was around. But now...”
He choked, burying his face in the stuffed animal.
Lira crouched beside him, hesitant but determined. “You’re not alone, Steven.”
He jerked his head up, eyes shining with raw, desperate sorrow. "Did you know... when Everest got sick, I kept trying to read those healing scrolls she told me about? I would look at the glow and the patterns on the page—but it was all just… symbols. Like they were written for elves but not *for* me. Like I was looking at a locked door—no key, no clue how to open it. And the doctors? Human doctors just gave up. Said it wasn’t their fight. I tried to fix her. I really tried.”
His tail twitched violently as he rocked slightly, whole fragile body trembling with the effort to keep himself composed.
Lira nodded softly, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You did everything you could.”
“I didn’t do enough.” His voice cracked painfully. “I don’t know how to be without her."
She swallowed hard, then said, “I think a lot of us are still figuring out how to be without Everest. But you—those jokes, the laughter. You were the heart we all leaned on. And now, you’re so quiet.”
Steven exhaled slowly, the first real breath of something like peace she’d seen in weeks. “Thanks, Lira. I mean, uh, it’s hard, y'know? Trying to switch the brain off, but it just keeps chattering, like there’s this constant noise I can’t shut down. Also, I keep hearing this weird silence *everywhere* now. Like, I’m not breathing good or something. And the hoodie’s the only thing that feels right anymore.”
His hands fiddled aggressively with the cuff, a repetitive motion, like a nervous tic, but also something calming.
“And I know how dumb that sounds, but Everest said it was like a shield—against stuff that’s too loud or scary. I don’t get why the elves don’t get the need for small comforts. ‘Emotions are rivers’, they say, ‘Always flowing and changing.’ But it just feels like the river turned into a whirlpool and I’m stuck swirling in it.”
Lira reached out, squeezing his hand gently. “You might not understand all their ways, Steven, but you don’t have to. You can be your own kind of brave.”
He let out a shaky laugh, not quite joyful but somewhere between humor and bitterness. "Yeah, 'brave' and ‘wearing the same dang hoodie every day.’ Sounds heroic enough for me."
They sat there for a long moment, two silhouettes in the dim room—with the fading light pooling over them and the worn stuffed fox sitting silent witness between their shadows.
“Hey,” Lira said finally, “if it’s alright, I think I’ll come visit more often. Maybe we can figure out some of this elven stuff together. I know a few folks who wouldn’t mind explaining what the heck ‘lightspun chants’ are. Even I don’t get half of it sometimes.”
Steven smiled faintly—a genuine fleeting curve that seemed almost foreign.
“Thanks, Lira. That’d be... good. Better than last year’s attempts at cooking or whatever.”
And somewhere in the room, time felt just a little less heavy.
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**Chapter 2 will follow shortly.**