Leaves crunch under their feet. The sun's last light filters through the trees. Cassian and Alaric have gone inside, but Oroson walks with Varis quietly. The air is cool, serene.
"You're quiet, Oroson. That's more of Alaric's thing." Varis says while glancing down at Oroson."
Oroson grips his sleeves, thoughtful. He looks up at his father with hesitant eyes.
"Dad… I feel something. Like a current. It's small, but… It's there all the time now. Moving through me."
Varis stops walking. He turns to face Oroson, fully attentive now. There's no panic in his face. Only calm, and something beneath it, awe.
"...You're sure?"
"It started this morning. At camp. When I was breathing slowly. It was like I could feel everything. The air, the grass… even Alaric's footsteps. And then it didn't go away."
A silence stretches. The trees whisper around them.
Varis slowly crouches to eye level. He rests a strong, comforting hand on Oroson's shoulder.
That's not just something, Oroson. That's your lineage awakening.
Oroson confused.
But I thought Alaric or Cassian would awaken it first. They're stronger. Way stronger.
Varis smiles. Not with pity, but with deep pride.
Strength isn't solely about muscle. Sometimes the current chooses the ones who are listening. Not who's loudest. You listened and heard it first. That matters.
Oroson nods. His father's warmth reassures him. They begin to walk again, the fireflies starting to glow in the brush.
"Does this mean I'm special?" Oroson says smugly.
"All of you are special. But this? This means your path's gonna twist rather earlier than I expected. But… I'll be here, walking it with you. Every step."
They walk home together, the forest behind them alive with quiet power.
Varis and Oroson finish their walk. The wind has grown still, and the sky glows soft with fading light. Fireflies flicker nearby. Oroson seems more confident now, like something inside him is settling.
They reach the fork near the home. One path leads to the front gate, the other winds toward the village square. The comfortable silence is broken by Varis's finger snap, as he sucks his teeth.
"Damn. I forgot to pick up the parcel from the tailor."
"The cloak you tore?"
Varis grins at Oroson's response.
"That tailor yells louder than your mother when I miss a pickup. I'd better go before she adds an extra fee."
He puts a hand on Oroson's head.
"Head home, alright? Tell me I'll be there soon. You remember the path?"
"Yeah. Should I say you forgot again?"
"Please don't."
They part ways. Oroson was heading toward the house with a bounce in his step, still full of the buzz from their talk. Varis heads the opposite direction, toward the village lights. As he walks, his smile slowly fades into a thoughtful stare.
"...It chose Oroson first. Huh." Varis mutters.
The bell above the wooden door jingles as Varis enters. The shop is cluttered with fabrics, spools, and half-finished cloaks draped on mannequins. A stout, sharp-eyed woman looks up from her sewing table.
"Three days, Varis! Fucking Three! I told you if you missed more damn pickups, I'd turn it into a curtain!"
Varis walks to the counter, smirking, looking around at the other items for sale.
"Good thing I made it on day three, then."
"Day three and nightfall! You're lucky I didn't line the edges with bells."
She grabs a dark cloak folded on the counter and tosses it at him. Varis catches it and swings it on smoothly, fastening the clasp at the front. It fits perfectly. Regal, understated, and lined with worn silver embroidery. Varis spins slightly with it on.
"Still the best in the region, perhaps the kingdom itself."
"Flattery won't get you off being on time. You break that one and I'll stitch your name in bright pink on the next."
"Noted."
He gives her a mock bow and turns toward the door, pausing briefly.
"...Things are changing." he said out loud, but meant for himself.
"What's that?"
"Nothing. Just admiring the craftsmanship." Varis grin returns
He pushes open the door, stepping back into the night.
Varis walks along the quiet dirt path, the crisp night air brushing his cloak. The moon is high, casting long silver shadows across the trees and the fence. As he approaches the house, something feels wrong. Like something isn't adding up.
The house, normally filled with light, laughter, or at least the soft clatter of dishes, is silent. Too silent.
Varis furrows his brow
"No lanterns?" Said to himself.
He slows. His boots crunch lightly against gravel as he reaches the porch. The door is closed, but there's no sound inside. No, Amabel is humming in the Kitchen. No boys' roughhousing. Not even the hearthlight flickering behind the window.
"Amabel? Boys?"
No answer.
His hand reaches slowly to the door handle.
The door creaks open. Darkness. The a faint smell of extinguished candles lingering in the air. Shadow clings to the surrounding walls.
Varis steps in carefully, each footstep measured. The house is intact. Nothing broken, no signs of struggle.
But it's the silence that screams.
He moves to the center of the room, eyes scanning. A single cup sits on the table, tipped over, wine pooling across wood.
"...Amabel?" Varis sounds stressed. Rare for the battle-hardened warrior.
He starts moving faster now. To the kitchen. Empty. Bedrooms. Empty. His voice grows sharper.
"Cassian! Alaric! Oroson!"
Nothing.
Varis is now shaken by fear. His eyes were looking all over the place, hoping to find his family. A faint gust pushes through a crack in the shutters. But it sounds like a whisper. The shadows feel wrong.
And then he sees it.
A thin trail of something. Faintly glowing. Almost like ash, or embers, leading out the back door. Still warm.
The back door creaks open. Moonlight spills across the grass, pale and cold.
Varis steps outside. The air feels heavier here. Still.
He looks ahead. He stops.
There, in the open clearing behind the home, lie everything he created.
Amabel.
Cassian.
Alaric.
Still. Unmoving. Their forms sprawled unnaturally on the ground, eyes closed, faces turned skyward as if caught mid-expression. The light breeze does not move them. The world around them holds its breath.
No blood. No wounds. Just… silence.
Varis doesn't move. He doesn't even breathe. The wind stopped, as if calming itself, respecting Varis's silence.
He steps forward once, then twice. Each step feels like it could break the earth beneath him. He drops to his knees beside Amabel, his hand trembling as it reaches for her cheek.
Cold.
He touches Alaric's wrist.
Nothing.
Cassian's fingers are curled, as if reaching for something.
Varis just kneels there, staring. No screaming. No shouts. Only the hollow absence of everything.
"Oroson?"
No reply.
Varis remains kneeling. Frozen. His eyes locked on his family.
"...Oroson?" Varis's voice sounded hoarse from unreleased sadness.
A faint sound. A wooden creak."
Varis stiffens, head turning slowly toward the house.
Another sound, soft shuffling, like feet dragging across floorboards.
Then.
A small hand pushes aside the hanging cloth at the back door. Oroson crawls out from under the kitchen table, dirt smudging his cheeks, eyes wide with terror. He stares out into the dark, toward the motionless forms.
"Dad…" Oroson barely whispers
Varis turns fully now, disbelief and instinct crashing together. He runs and pulls Oroson into his arms. Gripping him tight like the world's trying to take him too.
"I've got you… I've got you, Oroson…" Varis sounded choked, trying to comfort Oroson with whatever warmth he had left.
Oroson's fingers curl into Varis's cloak.
"I-I didn't move. Like you told… I felt the current again, so I listened. They came in… and-"
Varis pulls back just enough to look him in the eyes, hands cupping his small face.
"It's over. You're safe now. I promise."
Behind them, the wind picks up. The cloth doorway sways open, briefly revealing the stillness inside once more.
Oroson's sobs echo quietly under the moonlight. His small body trembles in his father's arms.
Varis kneels, motionless. His face was pale. His eyes locked on the scene he can't unsee. His wife, His prodigious sons, gone.
His throat tightens. His jaw clenches. The weight in his chest threatens to burst, but he doesn't cry.
"...Not now." Varis says softly to himself.
His hand cradles the back of Oroson's head gently.
Oroson's tears soak through Varis' tunic, his voice cracking through breathless sobs.
"I-I couldn't move, Dad, I wanted to… I wanted to… I was so… scared…"
Varis steadies himself.
"You did right, Oroson. You stayed alive. That's what everyone would have wanted. That's what matters." Varis says in a low, firm voice.
His eyes water, but he doesn't blink. Doesn't wipe them. His face remains stone, carved by pain but refusing to shatter.
Behind his eyes, an ocean of grief. But in his arms… his world… his son.
The one still breathing.
"You let it, Oroson… Cry for all of us, cry for the ones who can't."
Oroson cries harder. Varis wraps the cloak around him, tight. The warmth of fatherhood sheltered him from a cold, new world.
Varis stares ahead. Unblinking. Into the dark. A hidden anger loomed in Varis's heart.