0.16

“Possessed!” Malok spat the word like venom.

“Goddess, Nox?” He let out a bitter snicker. “You’ve lost your mind. She’s possessed, and you left our Turo alone with her? In the lake? On a stormy night? He’s just a boy, Nox! How irresponsible can you be?”

Nox clenched his fists in frustration. “By the time I got to the shore, they were already far out into the water. Do you think I encouraged him to chase her into the lake?”

Malok stepped closer, his posture menacing. “That’s just what you say. But who knows what really happened? We can only find out from Turo—if he’s still alive.” His voice dropped, each word dripping with accusation. “And for all I know, he might be drowning in there.”

Chief Marnoell flinched at those words. His face twisted in discomfort, a reaction not lost on Nox.

Nox turned his focus back to Malok, his voice taut with anger. “Why would you say something like that?”

“Because I know the truth,” Malok hissed, stepping even closer. “Turo has always been your competitor, hasn’t he?”

Nox blinked, thrown offguard by the accusation. “Competitor? For what?” His confusion was genuine.

The crowd watched the exchange in tense silence.

Malok’s lips curled into a cruel smirk. “For the title.”

Chief Marnoell stepped between them, his face etched with disgust. “Nox has never cared about power or leadership, Malok. Your brother is good, loyal, and obedient to a fault.” When Malok opened his mouth to protest, Marnoell cut him off with a gesture of his hand. “Enough. I know him better than you ever will. Stop twisting this into a petty grudge and focus on the crisis at hand.”

The rebuke hit home. Malok’s shoulders slumped, and he hung his head in reluctant defeat.

Marnoell turned to Nox. “Is there any way to bring Turo back? Can we stop him before he reaches the other side?”

Nox’s brow furrowed in thought. “Samora is on a basket, and she looked… steady, like she knew exactly what she was doing. But Turo…” He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “Turo is clinging to a palm trunk. It’s unstable, rolling and swaying with the waves. He’s bound to get tired—it might even hurt him. He won’t last long out there. The danger isn’t him setting foot on the other side.”

He paused, letting his words sink in, his gaze sweeping over the gathered men. “The real danger is that he might drown before he gets anywhere.”

The men exchanged uneasy glances but nodded in grim agreement.

“So, we need to follow him,” Nox continued. “We can use a raft and pull him out before it’s too late. That’s why I came here—to get your permission, Chief Marnoell, to use a raft to sail across Lavalthon.” He fixed his gaze on the Chief, waiting for his response.

Marnoell’s expression darkened, shifting from troubled to furious. “Have you completely lost your mind, Nox? We’re already neck-deep in trouble, and now you want to risk even more lives?” His voice rose sharp with anger. “Those waters are forbidden! No one is sailing them—not for Turo, not for anyone! That’s my final word.”

“But—” Nox began, his tone desperate.

Marnoell silenced him with a raised hand. “I know, Nox. I know my son is out there, struggling.” He gestured toward the lake, his voice heavy with grief. “But I can’t risk your life to save his.”

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

The Chief placed an affectionate hand on Nox’s shoulder. For a moment, Nox’s tension eased, and he gave Marnoell a look of quiet gratitude.

Malok, however, wasn’t done. “Of course,” he muttered loudly, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Nox always banks on the Chief’s kindness. Look how perfectly it’s working for him now.”

Marnoell’s face darkened as he turned on Malok. “Enough, Malok. Not another word against Nox.” His voice grew louder. “He’s my responsibility—my upbringing—and I trust him completely. If there had been even a sliver of a chance to bring Turo back, Nox would have taken it.”

Malok met his gaze with a bold, mocking smirk. “Exactly my point, Chief. That’s exactly what I said.”

Marnoell’s jaw tightened in frustration, but he let the remark slide, choosing to ignore Malok’s provocation.

Hiyan limped forward, his voice breaking through the tension. “Wait—did you say Samora was sailing in a basket? The oversized one she’s been working on for weeks?”

Nox turned to him and nodded in a matter-of-fact way.

"But didn’t you call her mad when we saw her weaving it?” Hiyan directed the question at Malok, but backed off noticing Malok's expression changing as if he’d been struck by a thorn.

Nox seized the moment. “Exactly. That’s what I’m saying: it’s just a basket. It might be stable for now, but it’s no match for the storm. Both Samora and Turo’s lives are at risk,” he argued.

Malok scoffed. “Great! Now you’re worried about your sister-in-law? She’s possessed, you fool!”

“Right,” Hiyan added with derision. “She doesn’t need us to save her. We’re the ones who need saving—from her.”

“All the more reason to be concerned,” Nox countered, refusing to back down. “If she’s possessed, she’s not in control of herself. Someone needs to step in.”

Malok sneered. “So what? If she drowns, then so does the beast inside her. Problem solved. As for Turo, he’ll survive on his own. But you—” He jabbed a finger at Nox. “You just want to go out there to make sure he never comes back.”

Chief Marnoell’s patience finally snapped. “Malok! You don’t even know what your own wife was up to, yet here you are, hurling baseless accusations at your brother.” His voice turned ice-cold, every word slicing like a blade. “She eloped right under your nose, and you dare deflect your shame onto Nox?”

Malok faltered, his confidence crumbling. “Uncle—” he stammered, flailing to regain his footing, but the words died in his throat.

“And a man who can’t control his wife has no right to speak in public, let alone criticize the most capable among us!” Chief Marnoell thundered, silencing the group. His piercing gaze bore into Malok. “If anything, Nox is leagues ahead of you. If he were in your place, he would have ensured his wife birthed safely. And if—God forbid—the child was cursed, he’d have done what was necessary. He wouldn’t have idled around, slinging accusations at the very people trying to help.”

Marnoell turned to Nox, his tone softening. “Go ahead, Nox.”

Nox nodded. “Uncle, you’ve always been right. I’m your upbringing. And you didn’t raise me to turn my back on those in need. Right now, Turo and Samora need me. Let me do what you taught me—to stand for family, no matter the cost.”

Phyto stepped forward, his face etched with concern. “But the other side of the lake is forbidden. We can’t keep sending people to that cursed place. It’ll bring ruin to the village!”

Kaius joined in. “Yes, we are Tuscanians. And Tuscanians never sail across Lavalthon. We have never, and we will never set foot on that forbidden land.”

Nox stayed calm yet resolute. “True. It’s also true that we Tuscanians never abandon our own. We don’t turn our backs on family, on flesh and blood. Turo is out there, and Samora too. I’m not asking for permission to defy our ways—I’m asking for the right to risk my life for my family.”

The group stood still and silent for a while. Finally, Chief Marnoell cleared his throat. “Alright,” he said. “Take four strong men with you. Use the biggest, sturdiest raft we have. Arm yourselves for defense, and take torches. But heed this warning, Nox—do not set foot on the other side. And do not let them land there, either.”

Nox nodded.

Everything unfolded as planned. Marnoell selected four capable young men, handed them weapons, and instructed them to gather torches on their way to the riverbank. After receiving blessings from the elders and Marnoell, the group set off with unspoken determination.

As they prepared to leave the Banyan grove, Malok approached Nox, pulling him aside with a rough grip. His voice was low but sharp with menace. “Uncle’s kindness is wasted on you. This is all because of your stubborn, rigid obsession with following the rules. If you’d gone into the birthing chamber with Turo, you could have stopped them both before they ever touched the lake. This is your fault, Nox—yours and your stupid standards.”

He paused, his words cutting deeper. “Sometimes, Nox, you might have to break the rules for the greater good.”

With that, Malok shoved him roughly and stalked away, leaving Nox standing there, the bitterness of his brother’s words lingering in his mind.

As they headed toward the warehouse to fetch torches, Nox couldn’t help but wonder—could he really have saved them both if he hadn’t followed the rules?