In the cozy, dimly lit bedroom, Mel sat silently in the corner, his thoughts far from the present moment. The father of the house—a portly man with a thick beard, an apron wrapped snugly around his middle, and short, unevenly trimmed hair—entered with an enthusiastic grin. He held out a fresh apron and a battered hat.

“You’ll be working at my pub while you’re staying here,” the man declared with the authority of someone who had just decided something momentous. “But you’ll need a new name... Hmm, how about Fox Bearington!” He puffed out his chest as if he'd just named royalty.

“Is it because you read that book about how bears and foxes get along?” the middle daughter piped up, raising a skeptical brow. The father froze, his eyes welling with tears. “It was so heartbreaking!” he blurted, clutching his chest as if recalling the story’s emotional impact.

Mel blinked, bewildered by the sudden theatrics, unsure if he was stepping into a pub or a drama troupe. “So, why aren’t you trying to get revenge on me? I am Melanthius Shadowbane, after all,” Mel asked, leaning back in his chair, his gaze steady but curious.

The father, Jude Kendall, chomped on a carrot stick with casual indifference, the crunch echoing in the small room. He shrugged and waved the remaining half of the carrot at Mel. “Because you’re Melanthius Shadowbane, not Merlin Shadowbane. Big difference, duh,” Jude said, as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world.

Mel raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by the man's blunt yet oddly reassuring logic. “Mr. Melanthius! Can you show me some magic?!” the youngest daughter chirped, her eyes wide with excitement. Before Mel could respond, the middle daughter leaped onto his back with a gleeful shout. “Yeah! Fly, Mr. Melanthius! Fly!”

The unexpected weight sent him stumbling to the floor with a groan. “Ow! Alright, alright—I'll fly, just get off me first!” As he stood, he stretched and cracked his back, muttering under his breath. The girls stepped back, watching with eager anticipation as Mel straightened up.

He rose into the air, hovering effortlessly as the children gasped in delight. “It’s not exactly magic,” he explained with a small grin. “I engraved a cloud symbol with my magic on my legs—let me do this little trick.” He glided around the room, swooping low and making the girls squeal with laughter as they chased after him. Their joy was infectious, and for a moment, Mel couldn’t help but smile.

“Alright, enough of the chit-chat,” a woman announced as she entered the room. Her presence was commanding, with long, flowing black hair and intricate tattoos winding across her sun-kissed skin. She wore a sundress that accentuated her curvy figure, and her no-nonsense expression left no room for argument. Despite her stern demeanor, the kids immediately lit up and ran to her side.

“Mom!” they exclaimed in unison, clinging to her as she gave each of them a quick pat on the head, her serious gaze fixed on Mel.

Charlene Kendall, the mother of the house, sat across from Melanthius with an air of authority, chewing thoughtfully on a carrot stick as Jude busied himself cooking in the kitchen. Her piercing gaze lingered on Mel as if weighing his worth.

“So, you saved my kids from being crushed by a falling boulder, huh?” she said bluntly. “I suppose I owe you for that. But don’t get any ideas—make no mistake, the Shadowbanes are dead to me.” She crossed her arms, her tone as sharp as her words.

Mel leaned forward, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. “What about the Bearingtons?” he teased, poking fun at the name Jude had so enthusiastically assigned to him.

Charlene’s stern expression didn’t waver as she turned her head sharply toward her husband. “Didn’t I explicitly say no to that ridiculous name?” she scolded, her voice carrying a mix of exasperation and disbelief.

Jude, still stirring a pot, flinched but laughed nervously. “I thought it had a nice ring to it!” he mumbled under his breath. “Anyway,” Charlene said, tying her hair back in a quick, no-nonsense motion. Her sharp eyes fixed on Mel. “What are you doing here?” Mel shifted uncomfortably, scratching his arm. “Someone named Henry Angelo—I think he’s a prince?—told me there were answers here about Merlin,” he explained cautiously.

Charlene froze for a moment, her expression hardening. “Henry Angelo? That slimy bastard?” she spat, her voice dripping with disdain. “Since the day he was born, that kid’s been nothing but trouble—a conniving little snake. As for Merlin… I wouldn’t trust a word out of Henry’s mouth. He probably sent you here to get you killed. Don’t you know? Around here, the name Shadowbane is a death sentence—kill on sight.”

Her words hung heavy in the air, and Mel’s brow furrowed. He realized just how dangerous his journey had become.

After the meal, Jude clapped his hands together. "Time for sleepy go bye!" With that, he collapsed onto the floor, and the rest of the family piled on top of him, seeking warmth in the close-knit huddle.

Mel watched silently, noticing how small the portions had been, how little each person had to eat. It hit him hard—the family was struggling. He could see it in the way they clung to each other for warmth, and the simple, modest way they lived.

"They're really poor..." Mel thought to himself, a knot of sympathy forming in his chest.

Not wanting to intrude, he quietly scaled the walls, crawling up to the ceiling. "Been a while since I’ve done this," he muttered, his fingers finding familiar footholds. He settled there, awkwardly perched as he tried to sleep, the strange stillness of the room and the cold air around him making it hard to find comfort.

Stolen story; please report.

A few moments later, Mel stirred awake to the sound of the door creaking open, the bright light flooding into the room. "Shh, my dad's going to wake up!" a soft voice hissed. Mel squinted, trying to adjust his vision.

It was the oldest daughter, stepping in with two guys in tow. Her outfit was revealing, a sharp contrast to the modesty of her siblings. She wore high heels that clicked on the floor and large hoop earrings that gleamed in the dim light. Her movements were quick and deliberate, as though trying not to be noticed.

"I just need my purse," she whispered to the others, glancing nervously over her shoulder as she reached for the bag. After grabbing it, she hurried back out, leaving the door ajar behind her. The soft click of her heels echoed down the hallway as she disappeared into the night.

The next day, Mel found himself standing behind the bar, trying to follow the flow of orders. "Ale? Sure!" he said, grabbing a bottle of water and pouring it into a cup, sliding it toward a customer. The cup tipped over and splashed across the counter, much to the customer's dismay. Mel didn’t even get a chance to pour a proper beer before it all started to spiral.

He kept mis-pouring drinks, handing out random orders with no sense of direction. His confusion was growing by the second, until finally, Jude stepped in, looking exasperated. “Fox, why don’t you handle a delivery run instead? You’re making a mess of this!”

Panicking, Mel nodded, bowing quickly in apology before effortlessly hoisting three large boxes of drinks into his arms. Without another word, he turned and marched out the door, his focus on escaping the chaos of the bar.

Moments later, Mel finished the delivery, walking back with ease. As he strolled, he passed a dark alley where two men were gripping a girl, struggling to free herself. She fought against them, but they persisted, clearly intent on dragging her away. Mel glanced at the scene but kept walking, telling himself, “Nope, it’s none of my business.”

He took another step, then froze, shaking his head. “Must. Not. Be. Hero!” He slapped himself on the forehead in frustration. But then, he heard her voice—the oldest daughter from the family who had taken him in, the one who had snuck out the other night.

"Quit squirming! Hookers like you don’t get choices!" one of the men sneered, yanking at her skirt. The girl screamed in distress, and without thinking, Mel's body moved. He dashed into the alley, his focus sharp.

In a flash, Mel unleashed his electric webbing magic, sending a powerful jolt through both men's necks. They crumpled to the ground, instantly knocked unconscious. The girl, now free, looked up at him with wide, startled eyes.

“The hell are you looking at?” she snapped, quickly glancing away to hide the fear creeping across her face. She knew Fox was Melanthius, so his abilities didn’t surprise her. “You want a dance or something?” she sneered, her impatience clear.

“A dance? Sorry, I’m only 16.” Mel responded dryly, pulling off his robe and offering it to her. She flinched but took it, wrapping it around her torn clothes. “What, you want to put me in prison or something?!” she demanded, her tone sharp. “No,” Mel said flatly, turning to walk away. She eyed the two men on the ground, then followed him, clearly seeking protection.

"So, what brings you here, Fox?" she asked, her voice less hostile now, but still wary. As they walked through the quiet streets of Coldmond City, Mel rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I’m looking for answers. The prince said I’d find them here.”

“Are you really that naïve?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. “Maybe,” Mel admitted with a shrug, his pace steady as he focused on the path ahead.

Back in the pub, Mel diligently wiped down the counter as the tension in the air grew thick. Layla Kendall, the oldest daughter, sat at the corner, counting money, while her mother, Charlene, unleashed her fury.

“The hell is wrong with you?!” Charlene yelled, her voice sharp with frustration. “Do you really want to be a bad example for your sisters?!”

Layla didn’t flinch, her gaze cold as she continued counting the bills. “Bad example?” she scoffed, her voice dripping with defiance. “Do you think this damn pub brings in enough money? I’m just trying to help you all! Why are you acting like this? Grandma was the same way!”

Charlene’s face twisted with anger and pain, her fists tightening as she stepped closer to Layla. “Grandma was a different case, Layla! You don’t get it, do you?”

Layla shot her a bitter glance, the weight of her words hanging between them. "No, I get it. Maybe it’s not enough for you, but I’m doing what I can. Just like she did."

Charlene stood firm, her face a mask of resolve as she tore the money into pieces. “That’s bad money,” she declared, her voice unwavering. “If it’s in my house again, I’m kicking your ass out to the curb.”

Layla's eyes widened in disbelief as she watched the bills disintegrate in her mother’s hands. Her face contorted with desperation, and before anyone could stop her, she fell to her knees. “Do you know what I had to do for that money?!” Her voice cracked as she cried, the weight of her shame and frustration crashing down on her. She quickly scrambled to gather the torn pieces, but the damage was done.

Charlene didn’t flinch, her eyes hard. “I don’t care how you got it. You’re better than this. You think I don’t see what you’re doing? You’re better than this, Layla!”

Unable to take any more, Layla shot to her feet and bolted out the door, her sobs echoing down the street as she disappeared into the night.

Mel stood quietly by the counter, watching the scene unfold. He wasn’t sure what to say, but it felt like it wasn’t his place to intervene. The tension in the room hung heavy, and he noticed Jude, who had been quietly cooking in the back, slowly approached.

Jude wiped his hands on his apron, his expression a mixture of concern and resignation. “She’s been doing this for a while,” he said, his voice quieter than usual. “Told you this family’s got problems.”

Mel shifted his weight, unsure of how to respond. He glanced toward the door where Layla had run off. “Is it really that bad? Is she just trying to help or...?” He trailed off, unsure if he even wanted the answer.

Jude sighed and sat down beside Mel. “That girl... she’s got a good heart deep down, but she's always been caught up in trying to fix things the wrong way. She’s been running from this life for too long and now, it’s all catching up with her. But you wouldn’t know that, huh? You just got here.”

Mel nodded slowly, taking in the words. “I guess I’m starting to see that. I came here thinking I’d get some answers, but now I’m not even sure who to trust.”

Jude looked up, meeting Mel’s gaze. “Answers? You mean about Merlin, right? You sure you want to dive into all that?”

Mel tensed slightly at the mention of his father’s name. “I have to. Too many questions. Too many things don’t add up.” He paused. “But I’m starting to feel like the more I dig, the more I’ll regret it.”

Jude leaned back in his chair, his gaze thoughtful. “That’s how it always goes, kid. The past isn’t something you can just dig up and leave behind. It’ll come back to bite you, no matter how much you try to forget. You’re better off leaving some things buried.”

Mel's fingers twitched as he fiddled with the edge of his sleeve. “I wish I could. But I can’t stop now. I need answers about my father... about everything.”

Jude grunted, a sad smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Yeah, I get it. I’m just telling you... be careful what you wish for. This place? This family? This kingdom? It’s all tangled up in a mess you probably don’t want to get caught in.”

Mel met his gaze, determination flickering in his eyes. “I have to know the truth, no matter what.”