Kevin's voice sliced through the morning stillness like the gentle tolling of a bell - firm, warm, and authoritative, yet somehow gentle. "I'm heading to the farms, honey!" He didn't need to shout; his words carried weight, as if the very walls of their home had grown accustomed to obeying him.
Upstairs, Christie's voice floated back, bright and stubborn. "Wait up!" Kevin paused, half-turning toward the staircase, his brows furrowing. With Christie, simple requests were rarely straightforward.
"Come on, Christie," he called out, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "I'm only going for an inspection, not to plow the fields." He added, "I still want to come with you!"
He blinked, his shoulders sagging as if he'd already lost a battle he hadn't agreed to fight. "What?"
"Just wait for me!"
Kevin chuckled, low and disbelieving. Christie's persistence was both her greatest strength and her sharpest thorn in his side. "Alright," he relented, his voice softening despite himself. "But you do know the farms are literally behind the house…"
Fifteen minutes later, he stood waiting at the door, bathed in sunlight. The morning breeze tugged at his loose shirt, revealing glimpses of hard-won muscle beneath. His body told the story of a man who'd built his life with effort, sweat, and a stubborn refusal to bend.
And then she descended.
Christie.
Time seemed to falter.
She moved with a poise that was not learned, but born - the kind of grace that silenced rooms and unsettled men. Her dress was simple, yet on her, it seemed regal. Dark hair spilled like ink, and her emerald eyes held a mischief that could unravel kingdoms. She was beauty, yes, but Kevin had lived long enough to know beauty was shallow. What she carried was more dangerous: command. She had the kind of presence that demanded the world rearrange itself to accommodate her.
Kevin's chest tightened, a dull ache spreading through his ribs. He had fought battles, endured winters, faced men who wanted him dead - but nothing unnerved him like watching this woman descend a staircase.
He exhaled, his voice low, reverent, almost prayerful. "Maybe fate thought even a goddess needed someone hopeless to balance her out." His words hung in the air, not as flattery, but as truth. His eyes softened. "I still wonder how a man like me ended up with a woman like you - graceful, clever, so impossibly beautiful. You're real. You're mine. And all I want is to worship and protect you."
The admission hung in the air. For a heartbeat, the old ache in his chest swelled - the knowledge that he could lose her, that fate was cruel.
Then he broke it with a grin sharp enough to cut. "Besides… if I don't send lustful gazes your way, who else should I be sending them to? Actually… how about a quickie before we head out?"
Christie's eyes narrowed into emerald knives. "You really are impossible."
Kevin laughed, rich and unashamed. Impossible, yes. But he had always known how to melt her ice with fire.
As they walked through the farmland, the sun-kissed fields stretched out before them like a living canvas. Bunishi stalks swayed, purple and prickly, their scent curling into Kevin's nostrils like a faint trail of curry. He inhaled deeply, grounding himself in the land he had cultivated with relentless patience. Four months of work, four months of faith - and yet, faith was fragile.
He glanced at Christie, who trailed beside him, her fascination with the crops delicate, childlike, as though she'd stepped into a world she'd only read about. Kevin's chest swelled with pride at her curiosity. He had bled for these fields. Seeing her marvel at them felt like vindication.
"Let's split up," he suggested, his tone shifting into the measured cadence of command. "We'll cover more ground that way."
Her pout was immediate. "But I wanted us to walk together."
Kevin arched a brow. "Together? After what happened half an hour ago?"
Her glare was instant, her voice sharp. "Kevin De Loise! You shameless man! I wanted to work with you, and here you are, trying to brush me aside!"
His laughter died in his throat. The seriousness in her eyes disarmed him. Slowly, he pulled her into his arms. "I'm sorry, love. I didn't mean it like that. I only wanted to finish quickly so we could have the rest of the day together."
Her cheeks flushed crimson, but her glare didn't waver. "Still… we're walking together."
Kevin groaned. A low mutter slipped from his lips. Witch. Fiend. How does she always win?
And then his world collapsed.
The bunishi - flattened. Crops crushed beneath a weight that did not belong. Four months of labor destroyed in an instant. His heart lurched painfully, his breath catching in his throat.
And then he saw him.
The boy.
Unconscious, sprawled across the ruins of his labor like a fallen angel cast into dirt. Silver-blue hair shimmered with an otherworldly glow, even tangled with dust. His face was unmarred, his form fragile, delicate - but there was something in him, something so radiant and wrong it made Kevin's skin crawl.
He narrowed his eyes. Mage? Demon? Trick of fate? His instincts screamed at him. This was no ordinary boy.
Christie's silence was louder than any scream. Kevin turned, and his blood chilled. Her eyes trembled, her lips parted. The storm within her was visible, raw.
Empathy. Longing. Love.
Kevin's chest tightened into a knot. No. Don't. Not with him. Not now.
"Christie? You okay?" His voice was low, taut, every syllable balanced between fear and fury.
Her silence stretched like a blade at his throat. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft, steady, resigned. "Why not? You know this is the best choice… given our current situation."
Kevin's breath hissed between his teeth. Best choice? His jaw locked. Rage simmered beneath the surface, sharp and undeniable. "No, it's not." His voice dropped, dangerous. "Imagine living the rest of your life with someone else, forced to relive all we shared. Imagine never seeing our child again, while the judgment of society bears down on you."
Her eyes narrowed, confusion rippling across her face. "What are you talking about?"
"Do you know what will happen to that child if the officials find him?" Kevin's voice was iron, steady but vibrating with fury.
Christie's lips trembled, but her answer came firm. "That's why we must send him to Bruno. Not because he's good, but because he's the lesser evil."
Kevin's head snapped toward her. "Bruno? But he's—"
"I know," she cut in. Her voice cracked, but her eyes stayed steady. "But he's safer than the crown. You once told me we should reach Expert Mage rank before we dared dream of children. Two, maybe three more years. But this boy… he feels like the child we never had."
Kevin's heart broke, quietly, silently. He closed his eyes, then opened them, pulling her close. "Oh, honey. You know I would do anything for you. How much more now that you have?"
The boy stirred.
Inside the dim house, shadows playing against rough wooden walls, Kevin watched as silver light bloomed from the child's palm. It flared, molten, a mirror of power that defied comprehension.
The boy's eyes opened - wide, disbelieving, caught between fear and awe. In that instant, Kevin saw it. Recognition. Realization. Truth.
Kevin's jaw clenched. His voice, when it came, was not a farmer's voice. It was iron, it was oath, it was prophecy.
"Rick." The name left his lips like a decree. "You have crossed into a realm not meant for children. Fate is cruel, but here you are - given a chance. Obey. Survive. Learn. And understand this: your life will be guarded by my strength, and my strength alone. Fail to grasp that, and the world will break you."
The boy trembled, but Kevin saw the spark of understanding flicker in his eyes. And with that, Kevin exhaled - heavy, weary, unyielding. He turned to Christie, her silent gaze anchoring him, and thought:
Let the world come. Let it test us. I will not falter. Not now. Not ever.