RAGAN POV...
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"My child—my Ragna! What happened to him?!"
The mont Mother’s voice broke through the chaos, I felt her presence rush toward like a collapsing dam, and even through my half-closed eyes, blurred by blood and swelling, I could see her sprinting forward in sheer panic, the sight of my battered body pushing her straight to the edge of tears she could no longer hold back.
She tried to speak again, but no words ca—everything she wanted to say drowned in sobs, and for the first ti in her life, I could feel her hesitation, her confusion, torn between screaming at Aunt Gloria for letting this happen, lunging at the children who had done this to , or calling Father with a voice already breaking apart.
Her eyes brimd over as she knelt beside , arms trembling as she gathered up, pulling tightly into her embrace, lifting from the cold ground and laying gently against her chest as though holding too firmly might cause to shatter.
Within minutes, Aunt Lilith’s backyard began to fill.
Villagers arrived one after another, murmurs spreading like wildfire, and soon after, the families of the boys were dragged in as well, forced to witness the cruel scene with their own eyes—because sothing like this was far too serious to be buried under excuses and silence.
Mother sat in the corner, clutching close, refusing to speak to anyone, her sobs silent but endless.
When Father finally arrived, her restraint broke.
Tears stread down her face as she muttered broken words only he could hear, and without hesitation, he wrapped both of us in his arms, holding us for a long mont, his breathing heavy and uneven as he checked my condition with shaking hands.
I could feel it—the tension in him, the fury barely contained.
His fists clenched so tightly that I thought the skin might split, and when he finally stood up, his gaze swept across the yard, imdiately locking onto the five culprits... and the so-called hero standing among them.
"Lilith," he said, his voice pale yet firm, eyes staring straight into hers.
"Please call their parents again. And don’t tell my girls anything about what happened today. I don’t want them to know."
Even as he spoke calmly, his hands trembled uncontrollably, rage struggling violently against restraint, his knuckles whitening as he forced himself not to explode.
From the mont he arrived, shock had clung to him like a second skin—everything Aunt Lilith had told him sounded unreal, and yet the truth was sprawled right in front of his eyes, bleeding and broken.
At first, he couldn’t believe it.
He couldn’t believe that even his own child would plot against his younger brother, conspiring with village children, pushing things this far.
No matter how strained things were between Gustav a and , Father had never imagined Gustav could be so heartless—so cruel—as to think of disposing of his own blood.
Refusing to play together was one thing.
But attacking ... simply because of rumors?
That disappointnt cut deeper than anger.
As his thoughts unraveled, I could almost feel the mont everything clicked into place for him—who else could have known about selling vegetables to Aunt Lilith?
Only three possibilities existed: , Lilith, or family... and among them, only one child had both motive and resentnt.
Gustav.
Realizing that soone inside our own family had betrayed that secret—used it to orchestrate an ambush against —made Father so furious I thought he might kill soone on the spot.
That realization shattered sothing he had long ignored.
He had believed the village was finally softening.
He had believed I was finally being accepted.
He had believed we might not need to run away after all.
From the day I was born, I had never hard anyone.
I worked harder than others.
I saved Oge’s life.
I cared only for my family.
And yet—
Father stood there as though ti itself had stopped, mories tearing through him all at once.
"Answer ,"
He said suddenly, his voice dropping into sothing cold and terrifying as he glared at the boys in the corner, "what has my son ever done to you, you little pieces of sh*t?"
The yard fell silent.
Even the wind seed to hold its breath.
Their blank stares—those faces pretending innocence—only fueled his madness, and I could feel how close he was to strangling them with his bare hands.
"How could you do this to a child?" he demanded, stepping forward, eyes blazing with fire and ice.
"To another human being?"
"You call that thing human?" Talen suddenly shouted, his voice shaking as terror soaked through him.
"He’s nothing but a monster! He deserves to die!"
Father took another step forward, his hands lifting instinctively, itching to strike.
"You dare call him a monster?" he roared. "What has he ever done to you?!"
But then—he stopped.
Mother’s expression caught his eye.
Even through her tears, there was sothing terrifyingly calm about her, like a storm waiting beneath still waters, and in that mont, I knew she had already made her decision.
Once I turned five...
Once Belle was fully healed...
We would leave.
Father exhaled slowly, forcing himself to pull back from the edge, knowing her resolve matched his own.
"Is this what it ans to lose both a battle and a war?" he muttered bitterly.
"I’m tired... I’ve lost count of how many tis we’ve been accused, cursed, blad—yet we never once wronged anyone."
His voice cracked.
"Do they want us to hate them so badly? We’ve never fought anyone over land, never made enemies. Even my father’s many wives never caused conflict here."
Then his voice rose, trembling with fury barely restrained.
"I want them to pay. I want them to feel it—just once—to know what it’s like to watch your child suffer in front of you and be completely helpless."
He didn’t scream again.
Instead, he turned around quietly, walked back to Mother, and wrapped his arms around us both, holding us close.
And as I lay there—broken, bleeding, cradled in their embrace.
I knew the village had already lost sothing it would never get back.
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