endgame // sebastian sallow

twenty two

if you haven't noticed, the characters are aged up between 17-18 years old in this story. it would only make sense based on the writing. thanks.
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TWENTY TWO
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Third Person's Perspective

June 9th
Three Days After Ranrok's defeat

Sebastian Sallow sat sleepless in the wooden chair on the noiseless, dull cottage home.

His eyes were out of focus, losing his attentive view on the mandrake leaf, and felt his throat close.

Y/n is dead. He thought to himself.

It's been three days. He wasn't aware of any news since he flew away back into a random abandoned home in the Highlands. Nobody knew where he was.

Sebastian couldn't return to Feldcroft. Not anytime soon. After killing his uncle, Solomon Sallow and potentially losing his twin sister, Anne, forever, he couldn't return even if he wanted to.

His nights were horrendous. It was still recent with all the events happening, so being by himself and having those memories repeat over and over again. It was awful.

Within his depressive state, a tootle sound rang from the outdoor home.

"Hm?" Sebastian furrowed his brows, turning.

He stood up, finding himself opening the entrance door and seeing some sort of sunlight he's been avoiding.

The white owl sat nicely near the log by the garden and Sebastian's face glistened just a
little.

"B-Birdy? Is that really you?" He said, almost breathless at the familiar bird.

He didn't have many encounters with the owl since Y/n only sent him a few, compared to the thousands he's sent all year, but he remembered it well.

Sebastian didn't get his hopes up, he just blinked at it, "Is she alive?"

The owl did not talk, but Sebastian was fearing on that letter.

Maybe, it wasn't Y/n that sent it.

Maybe, a friend or professor took hold of her pet and sent out the news.

Sebastian just thought of the worst outcomes. It was all he thought about now.

The owl flew away once the hand came in contact with the parchment.

It took a few hours for Sebastian Sallow to open the parchment paper. He couldn't bare the thought of whatever news was written in it. Whether it was good or bad.

His fingers wiggled a little before finally opening it at 3AM in the morning knowing he wasn't getting any sleep.

Sebastian,

We did it. We defeated Ranrok.

I did not think it was possible, but here I am writing to you.

I am sorry if my writing seems a bit off — I broke a few fingers that magic cannot fix, but I should be okay soon.

There's tons to tell you, but a letter can only say so much.

Fig is dead. I lost him, Sebastian. It hasn't been the best mourning. It is a lot to take in.

The Keepers trusted me with the magic. My body feels weird — I should adjust soon.