After the seance, Svet's father resigned him to his bedroom without human contact for four days. Svet could remember bits and pieces of the exchange between Kane and the demon, but Kane refused to elaborate.
Instead, mental training and purification marked the last few years of Svet's adolescence. Abstaining from unpure thoughts, no more seances, fasting for days, undergoing intense mental and physical training: Kane made sure nothing would go array again, hoping to avoid another demon possession.
His relatives and guards kept their mouth shut around his room about why Kane was so hell-bent on molding Svet into the perfect, pure being. Svet didn't like piecing everything together on his own, observing and analyzing each word out of everyone's mouth. Svet wished people would speak to him, even if he was bad luck.
Svet had one clue though. His eyes.
Though he wasn't allowed mirrors his whole life, the reflection in his bowls of soup revealed how little he had in common with the drawings in his novels and textbooks. Normal people had matching eyes. His were not. It reminded him of how fruits start to spoil from one spot. Exorcists always preached about cursed objects and how they could be contained with charms or wards. Perhaps, he too, had something in him that needed to be contained. And maybe, with time, it would erode and it wouldn't just be his eyes that were strange.
Now seventeen years old, Svet only had one thing to look forward to. His eighteenth birthday.
Svet was granted one wish every year he managed to live. He normally asked for magazines with faces and names scratched out, or new decorations for his room. He knew his only place in this world was to be used for the betterment of humanity, but this time, after many years of patience, he wanted something different.
"You understand how many people I would have to commission for this, correct?" Kane asked.
Svet sat at his desk, his face half buried in his textbooks and worksheets. His hair had grown past his knees and pooled on his chair in circular, silky patterns. And his hands, which were thin and long, had a dark tint to his fingertips like he dipped them in tar.
The shadow of his father stood by his window, stewing in the prospects of Svet's request. Svet had only one wish in the world. He wanted an evening out with his family. Nowhere far, nowhere near other people. Just the backyard, where he could be swept back into the room in case something went wrong.
"Yes," Svet said. He dipped his pen in ink. "I understand you'll need at least twenty exorcists and shamans to keep me at bay. And guards to protect everyone."
"And you still want to go through with it?"
Svet's pen scribbled over his notes with sharp precision, his leg shaking energetically. He'd spent most of his teenage years warding off spirits from possessing his body, and he'd grown pretty good at it. It had been two years since the seance incident. So, why was his father hesitating? Did he not have faith in him?
"I taught myself for many years, just like you wanted me too. I worked long and hard enough for me to be confident I can do this without harming my siblings." Svet sat back in his chair and raised his eyes at the outline of his father. "And you've trained your men to handle such difficult tasks, so I have faith that you can manage."
"You're nothing like they've ever faced before, child. If something were to go array-"
"Father," Svet said, his voice quivering.
The hold around Svet's pen tightened. Svet didn't want to argue with him and he respected his father's decisions, but he knew his time was running out. He had this gut-wrenching feeling that, after he became an adult, things would change.
"I... I don't even know the face of my own mother." Svet released a shaky breath, forcing the lump in his throat down. "Don't you think I deserve something special before I become an adult and perform my duties?"
For a solid minute, the tick from Svet's clock filled the silence between them. Svet's "duties" were never explained to him, but Kane always made it seem like Svet was sacrificing himself for a greater cause. That returning home might not be an option.
After some consideration, Kane finally turned on his heels.
"You'll have access to your mother and some photos of the children. Nothing more," Kane said. His voice was low, as if he was actually Svet's father and not the man who held his demons and spirits at bay. "I will provide you instructions on how to go about purifying yourself before leaving your room. I expect you to follow them. No shortcuts."
Relief washed over the young man and he nearly rushed out of his chair. Not being able to meet his siblings was disappointing, but his mother? The mysterious person who loved him, even if she had never seen his face? The woman who sang outside his window and sent him letters?
"Yes, father," Svet stuttered, already antsy to pick what to wear, what to say, what to do. "Thank you."
On morning of his birthday, Svet could barely contain his excitement when he heard Kane's footsteps approaching his room. The clatter and clang of swords and armor resounded close behind his father, the amount of exorcists almost above the dozens.
Eventually, a large shadow appeared behind his paper sliding door. A large mass, some heads shorter or taller than Kane's usual silhouette. Svet was too overjoyed to be scared or shy of the company. In fact, he was just excited he'd be able to see a living, human face.
Kane's voice pooled from the other side of the paper door. "You've recited your incantations?" he asked.
Svet cleared his throat, straightened his back, and relaxed the muscles on his face. The corners of his lips fell into a forced frown. "Yes, father. Twice this morning, as promised."
Behind Kane's towering figure, a soft murmur swarmed through the exorcists. The exorcists had never heard the boy speak before. He sounded so young and meek, which contradicted the horror stories they were told by their seniors.
"Cleansed yourself of negative entities?" Kane continued.
"Yes."
"And you're wearing all the charms, correct?"
Biting his lip, Svet's eyes wandered down to his tunic and his assortmant of charms and paper wards. Most, if not all of them, had images of a wide, single eye.
Eyes are the windows to the soul, Svet once read.
Spirits often manifested as eyes whenever they peered into his room, so he really did believe in that old saying. But for exorcists, eyes had a connection to the strength of belief. What is seen by your eyes can solidify a fear, making it real. God, ghosts, urban legends- If it happens to you, if you see it, then you believe in it. And if you give something enough power, it can overpower you. So, exorcists used eyes to give spirits a form, making it easier to expel them.
Svet frowned at the amount of decoration he was instructed to wear. He was certain the people across the door could hear the way they jangled and crumbled with every move he made.
"As embarrassing as they look, yes. I am," Svet said, earning himself a few chuckles and cleared throats across the door.
"Then, step back."
Svet's boots made an audible stomp as he drew away from the door. On the other side, Kane signaled for his men to brace themselves while two exorcists stepped forward and started peeling away at the paper wards along the cracks of the door. Each loud, strained peel sent butterflies down Svet's stomach, and it reminded him of all the measures they took to contain him.
If anything goes wrong... If I were to hurt my mother....
Before Svet could think too hard about it, the door slid open.
Polished shoes, belts laden with daggers, black and white robes: His gaze soaked in everything about the humans outside his walls. When his eyes landed on their faces, however, Svet's gut immediately fell, his shoulders sagging. Everyone was wearing skull-designed masks, including Kane.
He tried to hide the disappointment, but Kane seemed to catch it in time. His voice boomed between the rows of black teeth on his mask, saying, "It's nothing more than a precaution. Your mother will need our assistance if anything goes wrong."
Svet tried not to make an annoyed face at Kane's excuse, wishing he could protest his father's instructions. He trained long and hard enough for the "precaution" to be nothing more than a fear. By now, Svet should be in control of himself. That's what Kane promised him.
Svet sighed, letting the matter go.
I hope mother hasn't been instructed to wear one too, Svet thought bitterly.
Svet finally nodded and cautiously stepped out of his room. Immediately, a soft hum and glow everberated from the paper wards on Svet's arms, the runes sizzling with energy. Younger exorcists reached for their weapons, but Kane signaled for them to wait for the wards to do their work.
After the glow reached a scalding, reddish peak, the light stopped and faded. Svet smiled and wanted to jump and down because... Well, it worked! He didn't have to postpone, or try again, or spend another grueling two years to purify himself. He could finally meet the person who wanted him out of his room.
Svet warily glanced between the exorcists before his eyes landed on his father.
"The glow, uh, didn't last as much as it did last time," Svet pointed out, his crooked grin melting across his blank expression.
Svet expected a compliment from his father at least, but all he earned was a long, cold stare from Kane's mask (and an additional twenty-something stares from the exorcists who didn't know how to talk to an unsocialized teenager).
Svet bit down on his lower lip and folded his arms behind his back.
"Uhh, nevermind," Svet said, lowering his head. "L-Let's go."
After an awkward standstill, Kane started a slow pace down the hallway. The other exorcists gathered behind Svet like a shadow as he followed his father outside.
With heavy legs, Svet kept glancing at the interior of his "home". Svet's estate was seperate from his family's house, sitting in the middle of their large, open garden. It was funny, really, how he grew up knowing the basic outline of his cage, but he didnt know what it looked like. Only the sounds gave him a vague idea of where everything was.
He walked past the wall that would be the other side of his bathroom. The kitchen, where his caretakers brought his meals from, wafted with the smells of spices and broths. And then, Svet laid eyes on the door which led to where Kane performed the seances and exorcisms.
"We'll be in the sun soon," Kane said, snapping his son's attention from the room.
Svet braced himself as they neared the front entrance, which was secured by short, dark curtain. Kane ducked underneath it and beckoned for Svet to join him.
With his arm shielding his eyes, Svet dipped his head under the fabric and squinted under the sun. As if the exorcists forsaw his need for assistence, an umbrella unfurled behind Svet, shielding him from the rays. It took a while for Svet to adjust.
It's warm. And burns, Svet thought. He rubbed his lids until the piercing white faded into a cool blue. I suppose this is what it means for your eyes to have imprints on them.
Svet blinked away tears as Kane's firm hand grabbed him by the arm and escorted him out the balcony. The younger exorcists filed behind him in two rows, the older exorcists banding around him in a circle.
"Your mother will be meeting us shortly."
Svet nodded meekly and he tried reigning in his nerves.
As they neared the garden, Svet remembered the letters his mother wrote to him every month. She often sketched the flowers in their garden, giving him an idea what it looked like every season. So, when he saw the roses in full bloom underneath the sun, Svet felt like he stepped into a painting.
But then, he saw her. His mother, surrounded by her own group of exorcists.
Lady Mitsuki Nakamura, a young woman in her early forties, stood out like a sore thumb. Just like her son, talismans, coins, and jewelry hung off her body for her protection, her bare face at risk of earning a curse under Svet's gaze. But everything else about her screamed "sophisticated".
Though Svet would only learn this later, he took after his mother the most. Ash-brown hair, dark brown eyes, and white robes that fell over the ground like wysteria flowers: Mitsuki looked like a nature deity, or the closest thing to an angel.
Hands trembling, Mitsuki crossed the garden with her hands outstretched, her body crumbling at the sight of her child. Exorcists rushed forward to stop her, but she walked past them like she were in a trance, possessed. And as she drew closer, Svet felt like a small child again.
"My lady..."
Kane stood between his spouse and his child. "Stop. You can't-"
She shoved Kane's hand away, and Kane could practically feel daggers in his back at the way she was glaring at him.
"I don't want to hear it," Mitsuki said. She turned her attention away from her husband, back towards her son. Her voice dropped to a low whisper as she approached the boy. "Let me look at my child in peace."
Kane lowered his head, and Svet never knew his father could look so ashamed from behind.
"Svet."
Svet's mismatched eyes met his mother's perfect brown ones.
Oh so slowly, Mitsuki raised a finger to brush aside the paper charm hanging over Svet's forehead. Svet flinched away from her touch at first, for fear his own skin would hurt her, but then, she took Svet's face into her hands and all his fears melted away.
Every crease, every line on his face: She looked at them as if she were trying to burn them into her memory. When she finally had her fill, the corner of her lip quirked into a lopsided grin. And her gaze welled with tears.
Is that... my smile? Svet thought in awe, his own face mirroring his mother's expression.
Her thumbs rubbed his cheek in a slow, rhythmic pattern. "My baby," Mitsuki cooed, barely above a whisper.
Lip trembling, Svet leaned into her warm palm, a fuzzy feeling rushing through his chest like someone wrapped him in a warm blanket. He latched onto her hands and rocked, losing himself to her touch.
Svet didn't know he was crying until he opened his mouth to speak, his voice trembling, "Hello, mom."
She wrapped him in a hug and he broke in her arms.
There were days where he was alone in his room and he wished his mother would wrap her arms around him like a second ribcage, shielding him from the voices, hiding him safe and away from the solitude. Now that she was there, he didn't want her to leave.
When there wasn't any sign of letting go of each other, an exorcist with silver designs cleared his throat.
"My lady, we don't have much time. Perhaps, we should move to the garden?"
"Of course," she said. Mistuki peeled away from her son and smiled tenderly. "I have much to show him."
She squeezed his shoulder before she linked her arm around his and started a brisk walk towards their wooden gazebo. His mother led him out into the sun with soft commands, her gentle grip on his arm keeping him from tripping over himself. And Svet had never been more happy.
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