The night over Silverwood was a velvet mantle punctuated by the distant cries of forest creatures. Inside the cabin, the hearth still burned lazily, casting long, dancing shadows on the stone walls.
Rhaegalur sat at the massive wooden table, absentmindedly cleaning a knife blade with a whetstone. His gaze was fixed on the door of the room where Hayjin rested, an expression of grim reflection carving deep furrows into his brow.
Elara approached him silently, placing her hands on his shoulders. She felt the tension in his muscles, hard as iron.
"He's finally collapsed into sleep," she whispered.
Rhaegalur emitted a low grunt. "The boy is truly stubborn. Sooner or later, all that arrogance will lead him into trouble."
Elara looked at him intensely, searching her husband's profile. "Rhaegalur, dear, I'd like to know one thing…. How did you know who the boy was? And who were those men? They weren't simple bandits. They gave off a strange sensation… of death… that I've never felt before…"
"They were eerie," she said with a worried look.
The man sighed, placing his axe on the table with a dull thud. "There are many things I haven't told you yet, Elara. Things I hoped I had buried under the soil of this valley. Those men belong to the Cult of the Mark. I know them well because I've dealt with them in the past... none of those times ended well."
"You know how we gods are... we often act on our own will. There are those who are willing to preserve and balance the stability of the world… and those who are ready to destroy it without appeal."
"Okay, but… what could they possibly want from a child? What use is he to them exactly?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.
"He is not a child or at least, not entirely. But I don't know what to do with him yet, Elara. Keeping him here puts you and our home in danger. Letting him go means condemning him to become a monster or a corpse. I don't know what to do yet… I'll probably make a decision tomorrow."
Elara wrapped her arms around his neck, resting her cheek on his grizzled head. "Whatever decision you make, I know it will be the right one. I trust you more than I trust the rising sun. And even if you were to make a mistake... well, you're still a deity, aren't you? You're the man who incinerated those guys with a snap of his fingers. I believe you'll know how to defend this house without any problem, hahaha."
Rhaegalur chuckled, a hoarse sound that finally loosened the muscles in his neck. He grabbed her hand, kissing the palm. "Ah, I see. You're just using me for my brute strength, then? I'm just a bodyguard to you?"
Elara smiled mischievously, straightening her back and crossing her arms. "Well, of course! Did you really think I married you for your cooking or your lovely personality? I only took you because you're useful for splitting wood and keeping the bothersome neighbors away."
Rhaegalur burst into a low laugh, drawing his wife into a moment of levity that had seemed impossible only a few hours prior. The two laughed softly in the intimacy of their home, while outside the world of Alius continued to turn in its mysteries.
The next morning, a particularly persistent ray of sunlight hit Hayjin's face.
The morning light wasn't an explosion, but a slow infiltration of golden threads through the cracks of the closed shutters. Hayjin lay motionless under the heavy blankets, staring at a grain in the wooden ceiling that vaguely resembled the profile of a face.
The silence of the house was punctuated only by the reassuring crackle of the hearth in the next room. For an instant a moment both sweet and cruel Hayjin thought he was back in his own world. He thought that if he reached out his hand, he would find his phone on the nightstand and see a message from Sarah teasing him for being late to class.
Then, he felt the weight of the blankets. Too heavy. And he felt his hands. Too small.
"Ah, right… I'm still here. It's not a dream. It's not a coma. I'm in a damn child's body in this piece-of-shit place…"
He opened his eyes and, for the first time since arriving in that world, didn't feel the immediate urge to scream. The pain in his side was a faded memory and his head, though light, no longer throbbed.
A wave of psychological nausea washed over him. How could a grown, mature guy accept being in another world, and in a child's body to boot? The memory of his outburst from the night before burned in his chest more than the now-healed wound. He saw himself screaming, throwing things, crying... actions that his teenage mind condemned as humiliating, but which that child's body had performed with frightening naturalness.
"I have to leave. I have to find some way to go back. If there's a portal, there must be a way to reopen it. But how can I do it if I can't even stand up without shaking?"
The door opened with an almost imperceptible rustle. Elara entered carrying a tray, her figure enveloped in a warm light that made her look like a peaceful apparition.
"Good morning, sleepyhead."
Elara sat at the foot of the bed. She looked radiant in the morning light, a wooden tray in her hands. "How are you feeling today?"
Hayjin pushed himself up on his elbows, feeling his back muscles protest. He looked at Elara and immediately looked away, staring at his wool-covered knees. His throat tightened. He wanted to apologize. He wanted to tell her he wasn't a spoiled brat, that he was a guy who had lost everything, that his anger was a cry of mourning, not a tantrum.
But how do you explain these things with a child's vocal cords?
"I…" he began, and his voice came out hoarse and uncertain. He cleared his throat, trying to find a firm tone he no longer possessed. "About yesterday... the cup. And the screaming. I didn't mean to... I mean, I'm not like that. Usually."
The words died in his mouth. He felt like an idiot. He was trying to apologize while maintaining a dignity that his physical appearance made ridiculous. He wanted to say "I apologize for yesterday," but what came out was a confused babble of clipped excuses.
Hayjin sat up slowly, pulling up the blankets. He cleared his throat, suddenly feeling embarrassed. "I... I feel better. Rested." He looked down at his small hands. "I wanted... I wanted to apologize for yesterday. I behaved badly. I broke your cup."
"Anyway… I just wanted to say... I'm sorry. For yesterday…"
Elara let out a small, crystalline laugh. "Oh, dear, don't worry about the cup. We've seen worse. Everything in its own time. Now think about eating, you need it."
She placed the tray on Hayjin's lap. There was freshly baked warm bread, a bowl of wild honey that smelled of flowers never seen before, vibrant-colored fresh fruit, and a cup of lukewarm milk.
"Don't apologize for something that isn't your fault, Hayjin. Anger is a form of strength, sometimes. It means you haven't given up. And as for the cup... don't worry, hahaha, we have many others. Everything has its time to be understood. Now, though, your task is different." She pointed to the food. "Eat. It's an order from Rhaegalur."
The smell of warm bread and wild honey hit Hayjin's nostrils like a punch. Suddenly, his stomach let out a growl so loud it made him blush to the tips of his ears. His body was hungry a primordial, ancient hunger that completely ignored his existential dilemmas.
Hayjin took a small piece of bread and dipped it in the honey. At the first bite, his eyes widened. The world around him vanished. "What the...? My God... what is this flavor?" The taste was an explosion of sweetness and freshness, a thousand times better than any breakfast he had ever had in his own world. Without realizing it, he began to eat frantically, stuffing pieces of bread and fruit into his mouth with an almost animalistic voracity. Honey trickled down the corners of his mouth, but he didn't care. It was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted in all the years of his life.
"Slow down, slow down! The food isn't going anywhere, hahaha!" Elara joked, watching him with amusement.
"Hey, breathe!" Elara chuckled, handing him a linen napkin. "You like it, huh? Silverwood honey is famous for a reason. It's the freshest and most natural in the area."
Hayjin paused for a moment, a piece of apple still in hand, suddenly feeling watched. He swallowed the mouthful with difficulty and tried to compose himself, wiping his mouth with a quick gesture.
"Well, yes… it's... it's acceptable," he said, trying to hide his enthusiasm, but his eyes still sparkled with the pleasure of the meal.
Hayjin swallowed a huge bite and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "Where is... where is Rhaegalur?" he asked, trying to regain a shred of dignity.
"He's outside. He's waiting for you," she replied, standing up. "He says today you're going to Opes, one of the largest kingdoms on the continent of Exilia. He wants to take you for a tour, show you a bit of the world of Alius."
Hayjin remained with a piece of apple in mid-air. "Opes? Exilia? What are you talking about? What places are these?"
Elara winked at him. "Hahaha, don't worry, it's normal that you don't understand. Rhaegalur will explain everything along the way. He's an excellent teacher, when he's not busy being grumpy."
"He knows the roads and stories of this world better than anyone. Trust him, Hayjin."
At that moment, the cabin door swung open with a firm thud. Rhaegalur entered the room, a traveling cloak over his shoulders and an unusually open smile on his face. He looked like a different man, charged with a contagious energy.
"Well then, Kid! Have you decided to return to the living and honor us with your presence today?" he exclaimed, greeting him with a wave. "I hope you liked that bread, because we have a long way to go. Get ready, boy. From today, officially, you will live with us. You're part of the family now!"
Hayjin was petrified. He had just taken a large bite of bread and honey, which got stuck in his throat from the shock. He began to cough violently, turning red in the face, while Elara patted him on the back.
Having just stuffed the last, enormous piece of bread and honey into his mouth to finish breakfast, his jaws locked. The bread stayed wedged halfway down his throat while the word "family" echoed in his brain like an explosion.
He continued to cough convulsively, turning purple, as he desperately tried to swallow the treacherous mouthful. Elara gave him a firm slap on the back, helping him clear his airway.
As soon as he managed to catch his breath, eyes wide and a drop of honey still dripping from his chin, Hayjin stared at the giant before him.
"WHA-A-A-AT?!"
His scream of pure surprise and childish terror echoed through the whole house, making the plates on the sideboard vibrate.
Hayjin's scream shattered against the wooden walls of the cabin, vibrating in the air thick with the smell of honey and pine needles. It was an absurd, high-pitched sound that betrayed every shred of his dignity.
Rhaegalur stood on the threshold, motionless, with one eyebrow raised and a half-smile that seemed more like a challenge than a gesture of comfort.
"Don't... don't you dare!" Hayjin hissed, finally managing to swallow the last piece of bread that threatened to choke him. He threw himself out of bed, his bare feet hitting the floor with a dull thud. He staggered, his legs still weak, but he used his anger as a scaffold to stay upright. "What… what does 'you will live with us' mean? What does 'family' mean? You don't know me! I'm not an orphan to be adopted, I'm not a lost puppy you can pick up off the street and keep in a pen!"
He looked around frantically, his chest rising and falling in short breaths. The feeling of being trapped, which had accompanied him since waking up in the cave, exploded into unbearable claustrophobia. It wasn't just the house; it was that body, it was that world, it was the calm authority of that man deciding his fate without even consulting him.
"I… have… a life…!" Hayjin shouted, but in a not-too-convincing manner, pointing a trembling finger at Rhaegalur's massive chest. "I have a life in my world! I have... a person who will wonder where I went! You can't just decide that from today my existence boils down to following someone like you to a place I know nothing about!"
Rhaegalur crossed his arms, his shadow almost entirely covering Hayjin's small figure. "And let's hear it, 'man from the other world.' What exactly would your options be? Walking out that door and wandering into the void until the Cult finds you and turns you into their instrument of death? Or perhaps you hope that, by walking long enough, you'll find a sign saying 'Bus Stop for the Other World'?"
The cruelty of that logic hit Hayjin like a slap. He felt tears burn behind his eyelids, not out of sadness, but out of the helplessness of having no valid counter-argument. His adult mind analyzed the situation coldly: he had no money, no weapons, he didn't know the geography, he didn't know the laws of physics of this place. He was a child in a hostile world.
But pride that last shard of identity that linked him to the guy who stayed up late studying to build a future rebelled with every fiber.
"I'd rather die trying than stay here and play the part of the grateful son!" Hayjin hissed, his voice cracking. "Why do you want me here? Yesterday you said you had a 'debt.' What debt? What do I represent to you? A way to clear your conscience? A trophy to protect to feel like a hero?"
The silence that followed was heavy. Elara, in a corner of the room, held her breath, looking at her husband with an expression of silent prayer.
Rhaegalur took a step forward. His physical presence was overwhelming, but there was no violence in his movements. He lowered himself slowly until his eyes were at the same level as Hayjin's. His gaze was no longer amused; it was deep, marked by a millennial exhaustion and a seriousness that silenced the boy's shouting.
"Tell me, Hayjin… do you think I want this?" Rhaegalur asked in a low voice. "Do you think it's a pleasure for me to endanger my wife and my peace for an arrogant brat who doesn't know how to distinguish a poisonous root from a strawberry? If I could send you back with a snap of my fingers, I would have done it already. But I can't."
The man pointed to his chest, then gestured to Hayjin's neck, where the Mark pulsed faintly.
"The debt I speak of is not to you, Hayjin. It is to the blood you carry. A blood that was betrayed, hunted, and exterminated while I stood by and watched from this valley, convinced that my neutrality would save my soul. I'm not offering you a 'family' because I'm a kind man. I'm offering you a way to survive Alius. I will teach you to survive, I will teach you to hide that mark and, when you are ready, to use it. In exchange, you will give me the chance to make up for my mistakes that still haunt me today… and this started even before you were likely born…"
Hayjin was trembling. His psychological resistance was beginning to crumble under the weight of that confession. It wasn't a matter of affection; it was an alliance forged in regret. That, paradoxically, made him feel safer than any promise of love.
"And this 'Opes'?" Hayjin asked, trying to regain control, rudely wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. "Why take me to a kingdom if the Cult is looking for me?"
"Because in Opes there is someone who can help us camouflage your energy signature," Rhaegalur explained, standing up. "Your Mark emits a signal that members of the Cult can hear like a scream in the silence. If we want you to live here, we must make you invisible. Now... you can continue to scream and throw tantrums, staying here to get captured, or you can start becoming someone who doesn't need saving every five minutes."
Hayjin looked at Rhaegalur, then looked at Elara, who gave him an almost imperceptible nod of encouragement. He felt hollowed out, defeated, but also strangely relieved. The choice had been snatched from his hands, but at least he had been given a direction.
"Don't you ever call me 'little' again," Hayjin murmured, with one last residue of rebellion.
Rhaegalur gave a slight smile, more human this time. "Then stop acting like it. Elara, give Hayjin some clean clothes. The road to Opes isn't too long, but don't expect an easy path."
"First, though… go take a shower…"
Hayjin clenched his fists and, without another word, headed for the door. Every step felt as if his ankles were chained, but as he crossed the threshold and saw the vastness of the sunlit valley, a part of him—the part that the night's dreams had awakened felt a shiver of macabre curiosity.
Just as Hayjin was about to cross the threshold with the air of a martyr going to the gallows, Rhaegalur's massive hand dropped onto his shoulder like a heavy paperweight, pinning him in place.
"Where do you think you're going with that scent of rotting forest and sticky honey?" Rhaegalur asked, wrinkling his nose with an expression of feigned disgust.
Hayjin turned, confused. "What? We have to go to Opes, you said the road is long!"
"The road is long, but my nose has its limits, boy," Rhaegalur countered with a chuckle, pointing with his thumb to a wooden tub placed in a sheltered corner of the kitchen near the hearth, where the water smoked gently. "Go take a shower. Or a bath. Or whatever you people do in your world not to look like savages. I'm not going to walk around with a bag of stinking mud next to me."
Hayjin stood there with his mouth open. The transition from the epic and psychological moment to mundane personal hygiene caused a mental short circuit. "A... a shower? Now? But I was stabbed two days ago! And you're asking me to take a bath now?"
Elara burst into spontaneous laughter, covering her mouth with her hand. "He's right, Hayjin. You are literally covered in old blood crusts and dirt. And you even have honey behind your ears."
"I do not! Stop making fun of me!" Hayjin protested, rubbing behind his ear and feeling his fingers actually stick to his hair. He blushed violently. "Fine, but I... I can wash myself! Don't you dare try to help me!"
"Oh, don't worry," Rhaegalur joked, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe. "I have no intention of scrubbing a screaming brat. But move it. If you aren't out in ten minutes smelling like a little field flower, I'll tie you up and drag you to the first icy stream we find."
Hayjin shot a furious glance at both of them, then headed for the tub, muttering words between his teeth that sounded suspiciously like insults.
"Who does that guy think he is? I'll show him who the brat is later," he muttered as he struggled to pull off the tunic with his short little arms.
Elara approached Rhaegalur, laughing heartily: "Hahaha, honey, you were mean."
"Perhaps," he replied with a wink, "but look: he's stopped shaking with fear. Now he's too busy hating me because I'm forcing him to wash. That's an improvement, isn't it?"
From the corner with the tub, there was a splash of water and a muffled exclamation from Hayjin: "IT'S BOILING! Are you trying to cook me, or what?!"
"It's the right temperature for hotheads like you, hahahaha!" Rhaegalur shouted back, laughing heartily along with his wife.
His world was far away. Perhaps unreachable. But if Alius wanted him to be a "tool," then he would learn how to cut the hands of anyone who tried to wield him.