The world did not end, the timelines did not shatter. My decision not to worry about a predetermined script was, it seems, the correct one. I know the story will probably no longer follow the original, but a long time ago I decided to use that narrative only as a reference, not as a sentence.
One thing, however, did not change.
Sloan became far more paranoid.
After the incident, he barely allowed his wife to leave the house. If more than an hour passed without news of her, he turned into a bundle of nerves, pacing back and forth, always finding some excuse to stop by the school or my mother's house. At least he did not become resentful. Fear took the place of bitterness.
Marian changed as well. She grew more withdrawn. She no longer ventures into the forest as before; she prefers to remain at the school, helping however she can. Perhaps she can assist Elena with the younger children — something calmer, safer. Perhaps she needs that too.
Knowing the Sloan from the books, I admit I was unsettled to see him like that.
Tears ran freely down his face, his voice choked, his body trembling as if he were reliving the fall.
"Thank you! Th-thank you! I don't know what would have become of me without Marian! Th-thank you!"
He hugs me tightly, his hands gripping my back as if I were the only solid thing in that moment.
I freeze. I was not expecting such an emotional response. For a moment, all I can feel is the weight of his body and the uneven rhythm of his breathing against my shoulder. I give him a few awkward pats on the back, hoping that will suffice.
My mother and the other women are tending to Marian. I had hoped to keep the incident a secret, but the shock was too great for her — and for him.
"There's no need to thank me, Sloan. I was just in the right place at the right time." I try to keep my voice steady. "But I think it would be best to let Marian rest. She's been through enough today."
I search for a way out of the awkward situation, but he takes a few more seconds before finally releasing me.
Now his actions in the book make sense.
They were foolish… but they make sense.
He was not merely a man ruled by fear.
He was someone trying to protect what remained of his Marian.
With this event, I realized we are moving too quickly.
Expanding the group would be advantageous. More people mean more capability, more knowledge, more resources. But there is the human factor — and it cannot be ignored.
A secret widely shared ceases to be a secret.
The more people who know about us, the greater the probability that we will be exposed. Not out of malice, but through carelessness. Through fear. Through pressure.
And worst of all: I cannot think of a concrete way to protect us if that happens.
With that concern in mind, I called for another meeting.
We gathered at our usual hideout near the village. The atmosphere was far too quiet. So was I.
"We drew up a plan to add more people to the group, but I have some concerns to raise." I begin in a serious tone. There is no need to emphasize it — by my expression alone, they understand this is not trivial.
"I think we are moving too fast." My voice sounds more tired than I would like. I spent the entire night awake, imagining what I would do if imperial soldiers knocked on our door at dawn.
"Too fast with what?" Elena asks, impatient at my pause.
"We are considering expanding the group. But by doing so, we are exponentially increasing the chance of exposing ourselves." I try to organize my thoughts, but I realize I am still not being clear enough.
I take a deep breath.
"What I mean is this: if the Empire discovers us, we have no real means of defense. No reliable escape. No effective concealment." I pause briefly before continuing. "We tested our protections with Brom, yes. They worked. But we are not one hundred percent certain they would withstand a formal investigation. And by including more people, we would not only be risking ourselves."
I look at each of them before finishing.
"We would be involving the other villagers as well. And I do not believe anyone here would abandon them to the Empire."
The silence that follows is different from before.
Now there is tension.
I see the gradual understanding in their faces. The realization settles in.
The world does not revolve around our small village — and the Empire is not a theoretical threat.
"So what do we do? Stay hidden?" Elena asks. I can clearly see her reluctance at that possibility.
"At least regarding magic, yes. The school can continue. And infusions that do not involve magic as well."
An immediate smile spreads across her face at that. The school will not be sacrificed — and for Elena, that is already a victory.
"But what if someone needs a potion? Do you expect us to stand by while someone dies?" Gertrudes asks, blunt and nearly aggressive.
I sigh.
Research is infinitely simpler than dealing with people. Sometimes I feel that half of what I say is lost along the way. My parents understood. Gilbert did too — he is naturally cautious and protective, and likely reached the same conclusion before I finished speaking. My parents have lived with these warnings from me long before the others.
"Gertrudes," I reply, keeping my voice controlled, "if I said I do not believe any of you would abandon the villagers to their fate, why would you think I expect you to watch someone die when you can help?"
She flushes slightly. For a moment, she seems unsettled. Then she straightens.
"I only asked to know what you expect me to do." She tries to sound indifferent, but the tension remains.
I run a hand over my face, organizing my thoughts.
"Then let's establish a clear limit. Magical intervention only in severe cases. Situations where the alternative is irreversible loss. Nothing beyond that."
I look around.
"Agreed?"
One by one, they nod.
But Elena rises again.
"For how long will we have to hide?"
The question lingers in the air for a few seconds.
"Until the Empire's stance changes… or until we can guarantee our own safety."
I pause briefly before concluding.
"Whichever comes first."
The silence that follows is heavy.
This time, no one smiles.