Keith's eyes flickered. "No."
"Not even once?"
"No."
Elius nodded to himself. "Eighteen years. No contact?"
"None."
"And your mom?" Elius continued. "Did she ever… talk about him? I mean—did she love him?"
Keith hesitated.
Something about the way Elius asked it felt too specific. Too personal. Like he wasn't asking randomly.
"…She said she admired him," Keith replied, voice low. "Said he saved her life once. But after that… she didn't speak of him. Ever."
"Did she know what he really was?"
Keith nodded slowly. "Eventually. I think that's why she never told me his name until I turned twelve. She was afraid of what it meant."
Elius tapped his fingers together in thought.
"And did you feel different growing up?" he asked. "Like you were supposed to do something bigger, something… else?"
Keith said nothing.
But the silence was its own kind of answer.
