Ever since that day, he had been set apart, not as someone better, but as someone different.
At first, it was awkward conversations, joking about how he was going to be someone big. After the first offer, it changed to careful glances and clumsy silences. They weren't sure how to act around him, even though he was the same person they'd always known.
It was strange how one morning could completely change their perception of him. They all knew each other, had all grown up together, and spent their brief childhood playing together in the fields and forests.
All that had led to his current situation, locked in excruciating eye contact with Rese.
Neither of them said anything and just stared. Eventually, Rese cleared his throat.
"So...have you chosen where you're gonna go?"
Ethani shook his head. "No, not yet. I don't know anything bout this, you know? I don't even fully understand what's going on, to be honest."
Rese's eyebrows quirked.
"But Carrice explained, didn't he?"
The smell of earth crept into Ethani's nose as he scratched his forehead, smearing dirt in the process.
"He did, but it's not really striking home yet. I'm just a farmboy, I don't know anything about Houses."
"Oh, that so?" Rese smiled, but his tone was slightly colder. "Well, good luck choosing. I've got to deliver some bread. Nice seeing you."
With that, he stalked off. It might have been Ethani's imagination, but his steps felt heavier, like they were planted into the ground with force.
Internally, Ethani understood. Somehow, his being discovered tore a rift between them.
But he couldn't understand why. He was still the same person as before, wasn't he?
He lowered his head and reached for his hoe.
Gold eyes, staring at him, probing him. They were curious.
Ethani stumbled and fell to one knee.
'Not again, not again....'
"You okay?" Another worker called out from the row next to his.
"I'm fine, I'm fine. Just tripped a bit." He stood, dusted off his hands, and resumed work.
All the while, cold sweat trickled down his back as thoughts sped through his mind.
For two months, he'd been forced to cope with this...voice invading his mind at random moments. But he couldn't tell anyone.
He could never.
Fear.
Again, it happened. It usually never lasted this long. Was it getting worse?
An angry shout sounded from the edge of the field, and it prompted him to return to forming mounds. He wouldn't be doing this for too much longer anyway, so he might as well give his all for the last few days.
##
As the sun began to set, Ethani left the farmlands and the village. He had told his mother to head back before him, while he talked to Carrice.
He still wasn't sure which to choose, but he was better off asking the Devotee than anyone else.
But before that, he had something to do.
A little way into the woods, there was an old tree. It was large, with branches stretching out so far they obstructed other trees. He wasn't sure what kind of tree it was, but it was beautiful.
Its leaves were green with yellow spots, almost appearing sickly, but the spots were oddly uniform in size.
At least if it was sick, it'd been managing just fine for a long time.
Ethani touched the tree's bark, then rested his head against it.
Sometimes...he felt like he was still here.
How long had it been since his father last took him here? Six years? Seven maybe?
He could still remember it as clear as day, his father sneaking away at night with him to this tree, where he'd sing songs of the Hunters and their feats.
If anything, it was because of his father that he loved them so much.
"I'm....special, Papa." He whispered those words with his eyes closed. "The words still feel strange on my tongue."
The wind whistled through the branches, brushing past his ears.
"Some foreign Houses want me. Mama said they're buying me, but I think I want to go anyway."
"You should see Mama these days. She doesn't smile as much, and her hands are so, so rough." Ethani swallowed.
"Papa, what do I do?" His voice broke at the end, and his shoulders shivered.
Sitting down and leaning against the tree, he buried his head in his knees.
He knew that he shouldn't be breaking down, that he had to be strong for his mother, but he was scared.
So scared.
What was in his head? What had the blessed metal done to him?
When he imagined confessing to Devotee Carrice, it made his stomach flip. The church owned the farmland and everything around it for as far as the eye could see.
Ethani remembered what they'd done to people who'd caused just a bit too much trouble. Banished from Vivain's territory and taken away.
His thoughts turned to Rese, and he pondered telling him for a moment before shaking his head.
Things had been weird between them for too long now. It's not that he didn't trust him; it was just complicated.
Who did that leave then?
....Maybe Priest Jesla? He was quiet, and ever since he came for his training to the village, he'd kept to himself.
Ethani only ever saw him at sermons, and even then, he only did what he needed to and nothing more.
He didn't appear interested in relating to any of the villagers. Most called him a snob, but maybe that's what he needed now?
No, no. He was being crazy. There was no way a priest wouldn't tell the Devotee.
Wasn't he entirely alone then?
Vivain...
Ethani wanted to dig a hole and bury himself in it. Maybe then whatever was in him wouldn't get out.
Ethaniiiii, it's not polite to ignore guests.
The voice was deep but gentle, suave yet condescending. It was like a gentle whisper against his ear, so close it sent chills down his back.
But Ethani didn't react. Not immediately, at least. He had been hearing voices for so long that it was a familiar sensation.
However...why wasn't it in his mind?
...
Ethani leaped to his feet in an instant and raced away.
He didn't want to wait and see where it came from.
'Fear, fear, fear.'
That was all that sprinted through his mind as he rushed away to the safety of the village.
##
Back at the village, a fire blazed next to a smaller house. Sitting on a nearby bench was an older woman wrapped in a shawl, and children surrounded her on the ground.
She chuckled and spoke to them. "Are you all surrounding me like this for another story?"
They all nodded in unison, and she laughed once more. It was high-pitched and similar to a squeal, which only cemented her weird visage.
"Gather closer, young ones. Today, I'll tell you about a boy, and his encounter with Fear. It has...themes your mothers and fathers wouldn't want you to hear, but it's about time for you to be exposed to these things, I say!"
Noticeably, several children swallowed. This was why they came back, even though they knew they'd be scolded.
The fire cast an orange glow around her and tinted her crooked teeth reddish-yellow. A gentle breeze lifted leaves from the trees and carried them all around the woman.
Her...presence. It was almost anointed, as if Vivain blessed her.
She touched her two fingers to her lips, then her head.
And begun.
"In the days before Vivain, there was a young boy in a town, similar to this one. It was a simple place. They worked during the day and hid at night, fire the only thing that kept Fear from them."
Her tone was lowered, close to whispering.
"The boy was an average child; he played with his friends, he helped his family, and he learned how to do honest work."
"But there was one thing about him that was different. Only one thing. What do you think that was?"
A child raised their hand. "He was allowed to help with the harvest?"
"Ha, no! Though you're not too far off. He probably helped with it, since they had so few hands back then." She rubbed the edge of her shawl between her fingers and shook her head slowly.
"What made him different was something much stranger. He was afraid of a stick."
Murmurs broke out among the children, and one spoke up. "He must've been silly then. What's scary about a stick?"
The woman's eyes snapped towards the child, and she half-snarled.
"What's there not to be scared of? It can stab through you like any sword and beat you to death like any club. A stick is very scary, boy."
She searched the children's eyes, one by one. They were clearly entranced, leaning forward.
The smell of the ground was earthy, dirty, but grounding. It truly felt like the village in the story could've been theirs.
"The boy knew it was scary too; he knew it very well. He knew too well. You have to remember, in those times, Fear crept in through people's minds."
"Why doesn't it happen anymore?" Yet another child cried out.
Looking apalled, the woman chided them. "Shouldn't you know this? Oh, dear Vivain, what are they teaching children these days?"
"Never mind, let's move on." She sighed and resumed. "This boy, he would see things whenever his gaze rested on a single stick."
"He saw the face of a person crying in it, and the more he stared, the more it felt like it was moving. It terrified him and left him unable to sleep."
"Soon, he could hear it too. It sounded like the howling of wind on stormy nights, whining and droning through the trees."
Suddenly, shouts resounded from not too far away. Displeased shouts, calling out various names.
Some children visibly went ashen, and the old woman giggled.
"Let's stop here for today. Next time, we'll see what the boy does next."
The children were off instantly, the springs in their steps propelling them towards the shouts.
All except one child.
She had dark black hair, dark as ink, and she almost seemed to blend into the night.
"What do you mean, what the boy does?" Her voice was extremely quiet, but her face was still and impassive.
The woman peered at her for a few moments before her mouth spread into a slow smile.
"Whether he resists or falls prey to Fear, of course."