Chapter 44: Before Heroes Ruined Our Village

【Caelan PoV】

Morning always feels safe right before it stops being safe.

Our village sits between wheat fields and a lazy river. Smoke rises from chimneys in thin lines. Chickens argue in the road like they own it. I walk barefoot on packed dirt, and the ground feels warm.

“Caelan, up, and take Rian with you.”

I push open the door curtain, and cool air hits my face. The house smells like soap and dried herbs. I hear Rian before I see him. He makes little angry sounds like a tiny bear.

“I’m up.”

Mother stands by the stove, hair tied back tight. Her eyes track everything at once. She slices bread with a steady hand, and the blade never slips. People call her Esdeath like it is a warning.

“Then act like it.”

I step toward the small bed in the corner. Rian is a bundle of blankets and stubbornness. His hair sticks up, and his cheeks look puffy from sleep.

“Rian, come on.”

He turns his face away, and his foot kicks the blanket like it offended him.

“No.”

I try not to laugh, because Mother hates wasting time. My mouth still pulls up anyway. Rian always fights mornings like they are a personal enemy.

“Yes.”

Rian sits up, and his eyes squint at me. He looks too small for how loud his attitude is. He reaches for me with both hands, and his fingers curl like he is grabbing my whole sleeve.

“Carry.”

I scoop him up, and he instantly relaxes against my chest. His head rests under my chin like it belongs there. He smells like warm cloth and sleep, and it makes my chest feel full.

“Fine.”

Mother slides two bowls onto the table. Steam rises, and the smell makes my stomach growl. She watches me adjust Rian on my hip, like she is measuring how steady I am.

“Eat fast, then market.”

I sit, and Rian climbs into my lap like he owns the seat. He grabs my spoon with both hands, then almost drops it. I steady it without thinking.

“Okay.”

Mother sits across from us, and her gaze shifts between the door and the window. She listens to the village like it is a living thing. Her shoulders stay relaxed, but her eyes never soften too much.

“Keep him close.”

I glance down at Rian, and he stares back like I am his whole map. His mouth is already smeared with porridge, and he looks proud of it.

“I always do.”

Mother’s lips press together, then she nods once. It is her version of a smile. It feels rare, so I hold it like a small prize.

“Good.”

After breakfast, I tie my boots and adjust the rope on the sack. The grain bag waits by the door. It looks heavy for my size, but I lift it anyway. The rope bites my fingers, and the weight settles on my shoulder.

“You’re taking the big one again.”

Mother stands behind me, arms crossed. Her voice stays neutral, but her eyes sharpen. She notices everything that is not normal.

“It’s fine.”

Rian clings to my leg, and his small hands squeeze my pants like he is afraid I will vanish. I reach down and ruffle his hair once. He huffs like he hates it, then leans into my hand.

“Stay with me.”

Mother steps forward and fixes my collar. Her fingers move fast, and her touch stays light. Her gaze holds my face for a heartbeat, like she is checking for cracks.

“Do not play hero.”

I nod, and the words land deeper than she probably meant. Hero is a word adults spit like it tastes bad. I do not understand why yet.

“I won’t.”

We step into the street, and the sun hits my eyes. The village is already awake. People wave, and I wave back. It feels normal, and that is the whole point.

“Morning, Caelan.”

Old Mara leans out her window, and her hair looks like a gray cloud. She smiles like she has known me forever. She always smells like bread and smoke.

“Morning, Mara.”

Rian lifts his hand from my other side, and his fingers open and close like a little sea creature. Mara laughs, soft and warm.

“Look at him. Big feelings in a small body.”

Rian scowls like he understood her perfectly. I adjust the grain sack again, and the rope creaks. My shoulder complains, then goes quiet, like my body decided the pain was not important.

“He’s dramatic.”

Mara’s eyes slide over me, and her smile twitches.

“And you are too calm.”

I do not answer, because I never know what to do with that. Calm is just what happens when you carry other people’s weight. You do it, or you drop them.

“See you later.”

The market sits in the center of the village, a ring of stalls and carts. The smell of fruit hits first. Then fish, then spice, then wet wood by the river. People talk over each other, and the noise feels alive.

“Caelan.”

A girl’s voice cuts through everything, and my chest lifts before I even turn. Mira runs toward me, braid swinging, cheeks flushed from motion. She looks like sunshine in a place that gets a lot of clouds.

“Mira.”

She stops close, and her eyes drop to Rian. Her smile softens, then widens again. She always looks like she is holding warmth in her hands.

“Hi, little wolf.”

Rian squints at her, suspicious. He does not trust happiness yet. Mira crouches anyway, patient, and offers him a small dried apple slice.

“Want this.”

Rian stares at it, then stares at her face. He grabs it fast, then shoves it in his mouth like he fears she will take it back. Mira laughs under her breath, and it sounds like home.

“Rude, but fair.”

I set the grain sack down with a thud. My shoulder feels light without it, like my bones can breathe. Mira reaches up and touches my arm, quick and familiar.

“You’re carrying the big one again.”

I shrug, and the motion pulls a little tightness in my back. It is not pain, just pressure. Mira’s eyes narrow, like she wants to argue, then she stops.

“Esdeath let you.”

I nod once. Mother does not let anyone do anything. She allows, and that feels different. Mira reads my face, then lets it go.

“Okay.”

Rian chews loud, then leans against my leg. Mira reaches out, and he lets her touch his hair. That alone feels like a miracle. Mira glances up at me, and her eyes shine like she is proud of us both.

“He likes you.”

I lift an eyebrow, because Rian likes exactly three things. Food, Mother, and refusing to listen.

“Don’t get used to it.”

Mira’s smile turns sly, and she taps Rian’s forehead with one finger.

“I’m lovable.”

Rian makes a small angry sound, then tries to bite the air near her finger. Mira pulls back fast and laughs again, not scared. That is why she feels safe. She never flinches at small teeth.

“See, he agrees.”

I shake my head, and my mouth pulls up again. My face feels loose around her, like it remembers how to relax.

“Yeah.”

We walk between stalls, and Mira stays close. She points at a basket of berries, then at a ribbon, then at a wooden toy. She narrates everything like she is sharing secrets. I listen, and the world feels normal.

“Your mom looks tired.”

I glance toward our usual stall, and Mother stands with the baker’s wife. Her posture stays still, but her eyes keep moving. She looks like a blade in a room of cloth.

“She’s always like that.”

Mira’s voice softens, and she looks at me like she is trying to touch my thoughts.

“She worries.”

I nod, because that is true, and it is not a weakness. It is the thing that keeps us alive. Mira shifts closer, shoulder brushing mine, and my breath catches for a second.

“She worries about you most.”

My throat tightens, and I swallow. I want to say she should not, that I am fine, that I can handle it. The words sit heavy in my mouth.

“I don’t give her reasons.”

Mira’s eyes flick to my shoulder, then to the sack, then to my hands. She sees the reasons anyway.

“That’s the problem.”

I look away, and my gaze catches my reflection in a polished copper pot. The sun hits my face, and I see it clear. No new lines. No change. Just the same boy looking back, the same eyes, the same skin, like time forgot my name.

“It’s fine.”

Mira follows my stare, and she tilts her head. Her smile fades, just a bit. She looks at my reflection, then at my real face, then back again.

“Do you ever feel… stuck.”

I blink, and my heart jumps in a weird way. Mira says it like a question, but her eyes look like she already knows.

“Sometimes.”

Rian tugs my sleeve, and I glance down. He points at a candy cart, eyes wide, suddenly hopeful. His hope hits me harder than it should.

“Please.”

I sigh, and the sigh feels good, like I am allowed to be a kid too. I reach into my pouch for a coin.

“One.”

Mira laughs, and the sound makes my chest feel warm again.

“He has you wrapped.”

Rian grabs the candy with both hands, and sugar sticks to his fingers. He looks pleased, then looks at Mira, then offers her a piece. It is clumsy and sticky and generous.

“Here.”

Mira’s eyes go wide, and she accepts it like it is sacred.

“Thank you.”

Mother walks up behind us, silent as a shadow. Mira straightens fast, respectful. Rian hides his candy behind his back like he thinks Mother will ban sugar forever.

“Esdeath.”

Mother’s gaze slides over Mira, then to me, then to the sack, then to Rian’s face. Her eyes pause on the sugar smear, then move on. She pretends she did not notice, and that kindness lands like a soft hit.

“Mira.”

Mira’s hands clasp together in front of her. Her voice turns polite, careful.

“Do you need help today.”

Mother studies her for a heartbeat, then nods once.

“Walk with them.”

My stomach flips, and not from fear. It feels like relief, like Mother trusts Mira enough to place her near us. Mira’s smile turns small and bright.

“Okay.”

We leave the market with grain and herbs, and Rian’s candy disappears fast. The road home runs past the river, where water glitters like silver thread. Mira skips stones, and I carry the sack like it is nothing.

“How is that not heavy.”

I shift the weight, and my shoulder barely complains. It should hurt more. It never does. I used to think that was normal.

“It’s just grain.”

Mira narrows her eyes, then laughs like she cannot help it.

“You’re lying.”

I lift my free hand, palm up, like I have no argument.

“Maybe a little.”

Rian walks between Mira and me, holding both our hands like we are his walls. He hums to himself, off key, happy. The sound makes the whole world feel safer.

“I like this.”

Mira’s voice comes soft, and she looks at the river like it holds an answer.

“Me too.”

I glance at her, and she meets my eyes. For a second, everything slows. The wind moves her braid. The sun warms my face. I think, this is what home is.

“Promise we stay like this.”

My throat tightens again, and my fingers squeeze her hand, careful, like I might break the moment.

“I promise.”

We reach the village edge, and Old Tovan sits by the well, polishing a worn carving knife. His eyes are cloudy, but they still catch details. He looks up at me, and his gaze lingers too long.

“Caelan.”

I stop, and Mira pauses with me. Rian hides behind my leg, because strangers are suspicious.

“Yeah.”

Old Tovan squints, then lets out a slow breath.

“You look the same.”

My stomach drops, and my skin prickles. Mira’s grip tightens on my hand. She glances at me, and her face goes careful.

“What.”

Old Tovan taps his knife against his knee, like he is thinking.

“You have looked the same since last spring.”

I try to laugh, but it comes out thin. My mouth feels dry.

“Maybe you just forget.”

Old Tovan’s eyes sharpen, and the cloudiness fades for a heartbeat.

“I forget names, not faces.”

Mother appears at the well like she heard him from across the world. Her voice cuts clean.

“Enough, Tovan.”

Old Tovan lowers his gaze, like he respects Mother’s tone. He looks back at me anyway, and his voice goes quiet.

“Be careful, boy.”

My chest tightens, and I nod, because that is all I can do.

“Okay.”

Mother steps closer, and her hand lands on my shoulder. The touch is firm, grounding. She looks at me with sharp eyes, then at Mira, then back at me.

“Inside.”

I follow her without arguing. Mira squeezes my hand once before she lets go. It feels like a small anchor.

“See you later.”

I glance back at her, and my mouth pulls up, soft.

“Yeah.”

Inside, Mother moves fast, checking bolts, checking windows, checking the back door. She does it like routine, but her jaw stays tight. Rian watches her, silent now, sugar joy gone.

“Mom.”

Mother looks at me, and her eyes hold a warning.

“Do not ask.”

I swallow, and my tongue feels heavy.

“Someone’s coming.”

Mother’s gaze shifts to the window, then to the knife rack, then back to me.

“Someone is always coming.”

The village bell rings once, sharp, wrong. It is not the normal bell for bread or meetings. It is the bell for visitors with authority.

“Stay behind me.”

I step closer to the window anyway, and my heart pounds. Dust rises down the main road. Horses. Too many. Metal glints in the sun.

“That’s a lot.”

Mother’s voice stays calm, but her hand rests near the knife rack.

“Do not stare.”

I stare anyway, because my body refuses to pretend. A banner leads the group, bright fabric, a symbol I have seen on coins. Knights ride behind it, armor polished so hard it blinds.

“They’re from the capital.”

Mother’s shoulders set, and her eyes narrow.

“I know.”

The riders enter the village like they own it. People step aside. Conversations die. Even the dogs go quiet. The air changes, and my skin prickles again.

“Why are they here.”

Mother doesn’t answer. She just moves, fast and quiet, and positions herself between us and the door. Her posture says she will cut someone if she has to.

“Rian, behind.”

Rian clings to my leg, and his fingers dig in. He peeks around me, eyes wide. His breath comes shallow, and it makes me angry at the world.

“I’m scared.”

I bend down and press my forehead to his for a heartbeat. His skin feels warm. I breathe slow so he matches it.

“I’m here.”

A knock hits the door, heavy and official. It is not polite. It is a command wearing wood.

“Open in the name of the Crown.”

Mother exhales through her nose, then opens the door without stepping back. She meets the outside like a wall.

“What do you want.”

A man stands there in a white cloak with gold trim. He looks young and old at once, like his face learned how to smile in public. His eyes are too bright, like they reflect a different sky.

“I bring blessings.”

Mother’s stare does not change. Her voice stays flat.

“We don’t need them.”

The man’s smile widens, and the villagers gather at a distance, drawn by fear and curiosity. Knights stand behind him, and their hands rest on sword hilts like decoration.

“All villages need heroes.”

My stomach twists, because he says heroes like it is a title you cannot refuse. The air around him feels strange, like heat shimmer. It makes my skin crawl.

“We are fine.”

The man’s gaze slides past Mother, and it lands on me. It sticks there, heavy, like a hand grabbing my throat. His smile shifts, sharp and pleased.

“Ah.”

Mother steps sideways, blocking the line, but his gaze stays fixed.

“No.”

The man laughs softly, like Mother just made a cute joke.

“You cannot hide him.”

My heartbeat pounds, and my body feels cold and hot at the same time. Rian’s fingers tighten on my leg. I feel Mira somewhere outside, but I do not see her yet.

“Who are you.”

The man lifts his chin, and the knights straighten like puppets.

“I am Sir Aldren.”

Mother’s eyes narrow further, and her voice turns colder.

“I don’t know you.”

Aldren’s smile stays perfect.

“You do not need to.”

His gaze stays on me, and I feel stripped in a way that has nothing to do with clothes. It feels like he is looking at my bones, my blood, my future.

“You.”

I swallow, and my mouth goes dry.

“Me.”

Mother’s hand touches my back, light but warning.

“Caelan, don’t.”

Aldren steps forward, and the air bends around him like the world makes room. His voice turns warm, like honey.

“You have talent.”

My stomach twists harder, because he says it like ownership. He says it like I am a tool, not a boy.

“I have chores.”

Aldren laughs again, and it sounds like he is entertained.

“Chores are for later.”

Mother’s eyes flash, and her voice snaps sharp.

“He is not leaving.”

Aldren’s smile does not break, but his eyes harden for a blink.

“The Crown requests his service.”

Mother’s jaw tightens, and her fingers curl. She looks like she might lunge. She does not, because she thinks first, always.

“He is a child.”

Aldren’s gaze slides to Rian for a heartbeat, then back to me. His smile returns, calm and cruel in its softness.

“So was I.”

Rian presses his face into my leg, and his small body shakes. My chest burns with something sharp. I want to push Aldren away. I want to throw the door shut. I want the world to go back to bread smells and river sunlight.

“Leave us.”

Aldren’s voice turns gentle, like he is offering salvation.

“I can make him great.”

Mother’s eyes narrow, and her voice drops low.

“You can make him used.”

Aldren’s smile widens, and he does not deny it.

“Greatness costs.”

My hands shake once, then still. I feel something inside me tighten, like a string pulled too far. I do not understand it, but it feels old. It feels like a door in my chest that does not want to open.

“No.”

Aldren’s gaze sharpens, and his tone stays sweet.

“Yes.”

Mother shifts her stance, ready, and I see the math in her eyes. Knights behind Aldren adjust their grips. The village holds its breath. Innocence feels thin here, like it can tear.

“Caelan.”

Rian’s voice is small, and it cuts right through me.

“Don’t go.”

I look down at him, and my heart breaks clean. His eyes are wet. His mouth trembles. He looks like he will stop trusting the world if I step away.

“I won’t.”

Aldren’s gaze stays on me, and I feel it like pressure on my skin. He lifts one hand, palm open, and his aura rolls out, soft and bright. Villagers gasp like they saw a miracle.

“See.”

The light makes the air feel thick. It makes my stomach twist. It feels wrong, like a smile that hides teeth.

“That’s…”

Mother’s voice stays tight.

“Don’t be impressed.”

I am not impressed. I am afraid. Still, part of me wants to understand. Part of me wants to step closer, because that is what kids do with fire.

“It’s beautiful.”

Aldren’s eyes gleam, and he points at me like he just chose a prize.

“It is proof.”

Mother’s hand clamps on my shoulder, hard.

“Stay.”

I stare at Aldren’s open hand, then at the knights, then at the villagers. Everyone looks at me now. I feel the weight of their hope and fear, and it makes me nauseous.

“I’m just me.”

Aldren’s smile turns triumphant, like he heard a joke.

“You are more.”

Mira appears at the edge of the crowd, eyes wide, face pale. She looks at me like she is trying to pull me back with her gaze alone. Her hands twist together, and her mouth opens, then closes.

“Caelan.”

Her voice is barely a sound, and it lands in my chest like a stone.

“I’m here.”

Aldren’s gaze flicks to Mira, then away, dismissive. He does not see her as real. That makes me angry in a quiet way.

“You cannot protect him forever, Esdeath.”

Mother’s eyes flash, and her voice stays low.

“Watch me.”

Aldren chuckles, then steps closer again. His voice drops, like he is sharing a private offer.

“Come willingly, and your village stays blessed.”

My stomach drops, and my hands go cold. I understand that word now. Blessed means spared. It means he can take everything if I refuse.

“You’re threatening us.”

Aldren’s smile stays perfect.

“I am motivating you.”

Mother’s grip tightens on my shoulder, and I feel her shaking, just a little. It is not fear for herself. It is fear for us. It makes my chest burn.

“No.”

Aldren’s gaze hardens, and the sweetness drains.

“Choose.”

I look at Rian, and his eyes beg. I look at Mother, and her eyes burn. I look at Mira, and she looks like she might cry, but she stands anyway.

“Don’t.”

I step forward, slow, and Mother’s hand slips off my shoulder. She does not stop me, because she knows what I saw. She knows what it costs to say no to people like this.

“I’ll go.”

Rian makes a sound like he got punched, and his fingers reach for me too late.

“Caelan.”

Mira’s eyes widen, and her hands lift like she wants to grab me, then drop, because the knights shift. She looks like she is memorizing my face.

“Please.”

Mother’s voice comes quiet, sharp, and it shakes anyway.

“Caelan, don’t make deals with heroes.”

I look back at her, and my throat tightens. I want to tell her I am not choosing him. I am choosing them. The words feel too small.

“I’m choosing you.”

Aldren’s smile returns, bright and satisfied, and my skin crawls.

“Good.”

I step past the threshold, and the sunlight feels colder than it should.