As the door closed behind Cain, the Village Head remained seated, his sharp eyes fixed on the fading silhouette of the boy through the window. The flames in the hearth flickered, casting shifting shadows across the room. The guard who had brought Cain to the village lingered, his posture rigid, eyes cautious as if waiting for something unspoken to pass between them.
The Village Head sighed, the weight of ages evident in the gesture, though his appearance betrayed no more than a few years past fifty. He leaned forward, fingers steepled, his voice low but carrying an undeniable authority.
“You said he was alone when you found him,” the Village Head began, the question hanging in the air.
The guard nodded, stepping closer. “Aye, no villager brought him to the gates. He stumbled out of the woods on his own, though not without company.”
The older man arched a brow, his gaze darkening. “A Dark One?”
The guard’s lips thinned into a grim line. “Yes, its eyes burned with that eerie green glow. It stayed hidden, just at the edge of the trees, watching him until he reached the safety of our wall.”
The Village Head sat back, his expression unreadable. The room seemed to grow colder as he considered the implications. “And you’re certain no fae tampered with him?”
“Certain,” the guard replied. “If any of our kind had touched him with magic, that creature would have kept its distance. They avoid those marked by our spells like the plague.”
The Village Head tapped a finger against the table, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. “Then the boy’s arrival is… peculiar. He claims ignorance, yet I felt it—there’s more he’s not telling.”
The guard frowned. “What do you want us to do with him?”
The older man’s lips curved into a faint, enigmatic smile, his glamour flickering for a brief moment, revealing the ageless, ethereal features beneath. “We will offer him shelter. Let him believe he has found a sanctuary. In time, his true purpose will reveal itself. Until then, we watch.”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
The guard inclined his head, understanding the unspoken command. “As you say, Village Head.”
“See to it that no harm comes to him,” the fae added, his voice carrying a hint of warning. “He is one of ours now for as long as he chooses to stay in the village, whether he knows it or not.”
The guard bowed slightly before turning to leave, the door creaking softly as it closed behind him. The Village Head remained, staring into the fire, the flames reflecting in his eyes like distant stars.
As the door clicked shut, the Village Head—no, the fae beneath the glamour—remained seated, eyes fixed on the flickering flames. Slowly, he rose, stepping to the window. Beyond the glass, the stars shimmered in the night sky, their cold light spilling over the village.
He traced a finger along the windowpane, his gaze distant, lost in the constellations. “Cain Stillwater,” he murmured, the name tasting foreign yet familiar on his tongue. “Child who reeks of both Heaven and Hell. What strange twist of fate has brought you here to me, boy?”
The fae's voice softened, carrying a weight of old memories and unspoken debts. “Heaven’s grace and Hell’s torment wrapped in mortal flesh. I can feel it—your soul, torn between two realms. And yet, you walk among us, unaware of the darkness and light that clings to you.”
His lips pressed into a thin line as he turned from the window, hands clasped behind his back. “Adam… It seems even now; you still like finding ways to make the life of this old man so much harder. This boy… he is one of yours and that in itself puts him in danger. A child straddling the boundaries of the divine and the damned.”
For a long moment, the fae stood in contemplative silence, the weight of ancient pacts and forgotten battles pressing down on him. Then, with a resolute sigh, he spoke to the empty room.
“Shelter and guidance—that is all I can offer. No more, no less. The struggles ahead are his to bear, not mine to interfere with. But… for your sake Adam, I’ll ensure he has a chance. A chance to find his path, to stand in the light or fall into shadow.”
The fae's eyes flickered with a hint of sorrow, a reflection of burdens carried across lifetimes. “Cain, you will face trials that no mortal should endure. And though you walk alone, know this: you have a place here, for as long as you need it.”
He returned to his chair by the hearth, the flames casting a warm glow across his features once more cloaked in the guise of the Village Head. With a final glance at the stars, he whispered, “May the heavens and hells turn a blind eye to you, boy. For if their inhabitants knew of you, they would hound you to the ends of existence.”