OGE POV...
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’Even now, I still don’t fully understand why little brother can endure so much without breaking, but after catching even a tiny glimpse of the world he has been walking through alone, I finally realized just how impossible it must be for him to live like a normal person from now on—and yet, despite knowing that nothing would ever be easy for him again, he has never once shown weakness, never complained, never allowed his pain to spill out where anyone could see it.’
I let out a quiet sigh, the weight of that realization settling deep in my chest. All my life, I believed I would never truly be well again, that my body and fate had already decided the limits of my existence, but it was my little brother who pulled back from that edge. After everything that happened, I truly thought this was where things would finally start anew—that we would live peacefully, happily, without worries—but life, as cruel and poetic as it always is, never fails to twist every tale just when hope begins to bloom.
After the warm bath, I dried myself slowly and changed into a fresh set of clothes, then spent the rest of the day quietly helping with chores, laughing and playing with my family as if every mont mattered more than the last, until night finally fell. Under the pretense of going to bed, little brother and I slipped outside once again, our steps light and careful.
"Is everything okay?" I asked softly, unable to ignore the uneasy feeling lingering in my chest.
"It’s fine," he replied after a brief pause. "But let’s begin."
He dropped the topic just like that, and I could tell he was anxious—almost restless—as if so unseen instinct was screaming at him with every second we wasted.
The forest was bathed in silver moonlight, the canopy above us glowing faintly while insects chirped and distant birds rustled in their sleep. After we sat beneath a large tree, I couldn’t stop myself from watching him closely.
"What’s wrong, Ragna?" I asked.
"Nothing much," he said. "I just thought I should list out the differences between what you are and what I am... before we get to the main point."
As soon as he finished speaking, he pulled out a book and an ink pen, and the sight of it alone made blink in surprise, curiosity bubbling up inside .
"Can you see this word?" he asked, turning the book toward . The word Banshee was written clearly on the front page.
"For so reason... yes," I replied slowly. "But it’s not as clear as daylight."
Shock flickered across my face as I realized just how much my vision had improved—I had never imagined my senses could reach such an almost unreal level.
He nodded, then began writing. He listed his abilities calmly, thodically—his unnatural healing, his immunity to weather and elents like fire and cold, his terrifying speed—each line reminding again just how far removed his existence was from normality. I watched quietly as he wrote, sotis pausing in thought, sotis moving nonstop until the ink nearly ran dry.
When he finally stopped, he looked up at , clearly unsure how to begin explaining my abilities—and that was when a sharp notification rang out in his head.
[Host has made contact with family: Banshee]
Before he could even question it, the panel shifted, replacing itself with new information, and though I couldn’t see it, I felt the air around him subtly change.
A Banshee... the Harbinger of Death.
A being whose cries announce the coming of the Wild Hunt, whose outcry serves as both on and command.
A being bound to the Wild Shepherd, capable of foretelling death, glimpsing fractured pieces of the future, whispering fate itself into the world—though never with absolute certainty, for the future is unstable and can still be changed.
I didn’t know what exactly he was reading, but the silence that followed told enough.
Such abilities...
I could see the amazent in his eyes, and for a mont, even he seed overwheld by the implications.
After a brief pause, he attempted sothing else, and though I still couldn’t see it, I sensed him summoning sothing invisible—my status, my existence, laid bare in a way only he could perceive.
When he finished, he began writing again, placing my abilities beside his own, adding short notes beneath them, carefully explaining what a Banshee could do and where my strengths truly lay.
"Oge," he said at last, looking up at , "do you feel any different from before?"
I thought for a mont. "Other than being able to see better in the dark... and my body feeling much better than it used to, I haven’t noticed much else."
"Have you tried hurting yourself? Just a small wound—to see if it heals?"
I shook my head, startled by the suggestion, and he quickly waved it off, continuing instead to explain everything he had written, patiently answering every question I had.
"As you can see," he said calmly, "unlike , being a Banshee doesn’t distort your physical appearance. Your strength doesn’t lie in raw power—it lies in foresight. In that sense... you’re even more terrifying than I am."
I listened in silence, my heart pounding softly, realizing that while my path had changed, it was my little brother who was still walking the loneliest road of all—and no matter what I had beco, all I wanted was to stand beside him, even if just a little.
[Author Notes: I would like to say a big thank you to everyone for reading this novel, and our top fans,I appreciate every comnt, review, powerstones, golden tickets you guys give the book. But we need more.]
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