RAGNA POV...
I watched it all unfold from within my mother’s trembling embrace, my ears ringing as the man’s furious voice thundered through the space, declaring that from this moment onward Talen was forbidden from ever associating with that devilish boy called Gustav again, forbidden from even breathing the same air as me.
And then came the harsher order—no, the outright command—that the little piece of filth offer a sincere apology not just to my parents but to me, the so-called innocent child, and almost immediately the rest followed one after another.
Each of the four boys testifying in shaky voices to everything Talen had confessed, until one idiot tried to pin the blame on his parents only to be silenced by a sharp slap that echoed like a gunshot and glued his mouth shut.
’What a moron,’
I thought, a faint, cold smirk blooming in my chest as I buried my face deeper into Mother’s clothes.
’Their credibility is already less than zero. They can say whatever they want now—it’ll only sound like the pathetic excuses of criminals caught red-handed.’
Then Gustav arrived.
The moment he stepped in, I could almost hear his heart cracking; his face drained of color so fast it was as if all the blood in his body had fled at once, because he had clearly come expecting good news—my death—since no one had bothered to explain anything to him, and yet the first thing he saw was me, alive, breathing, still kicking.
The shock hit him so hard I thought he might collapse on the spot.
I could practically read his thoughts as panic twisted his expression into something ugly and desperate.
’What the hell happened? Those trash ruined everything. Weren’t they supposed to erase all the evidence? Wasn’t the six-eyed maggot supposed to be dead? Then why is he here, standing like nothing happened? ’
His gaze darted around wildly, his teeth clenched as he noticed the villagers staring, noticed the blood splattered on the ground, noticed the wooden sticks still stained red in his friends’ hands, and with every detail his heartbeat grew louder, faster, more unhinged.
John stood with his back to him.
Father didn’t even want to look at him—at his so-called son—and even though they weren’t born of the same mother, I could feel how the truth weighed on his shoulders, heavy and unavoidable, because no one else could have known that I would come to Lilith’s house at that exact time on that exact day.
When he finally turned around and asked, "Gustav, did you do it?"
His voice was low, strained, as if he were still begging reality to offer him another answer.
Even knowing the truth, Father hesitated, grasping at the impossible hope that maybe—just maybe—his son had been manipulated, that the villagers had twisted him into acting against his own brother, but deep down he already knew there was no such escape.
"Why would you do this to your own younger brother?!"
He almost shouted, his face growing paler by the second, tears quietly gathering at the corners of his eyes.
"Father, I swear on my brother!" Gustav cried out in panic, desperation driving him to spit out even the most disgusting lie.
"They’re lying!"
"Really?"
Father snapped, his voice cutting like a blade. "You swear on my son’s head and still lie? Then why are five children testifying against you? Are you saying they’re all framing you?"
His words didn’t stop. They only grew heavier.
"Did you or did you not tell them about your brother’s habits? Were you not the one who planned the encirclement, who sold him out over a petty grudge, who decided how, when, and where he should be killed?"
"Yes, but—"
"But nothing!"
Father roared as he stepped closer. "Because of your ’brilliant’ plan, my son nearly died at the hands of a bunch of runts! How could you be this heartless to your own blood?!"
Gustva finally snapped, hatred spilling out unchecked. He screamed about how I shouldn’t even be here, how if the plan had worked none of this would matter, how
Father had abandoned his mother for that woman, how he despised Mother and all her children, how I would never be his brother, how he would never accept a monster—or the crippled sister he called a burden.
Listening to it, I felt nothing.
Father pressed his palm to his face, a broken, hollow sound escaping him as if he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, murmuring that it was all his fault, that if he hadn’t drowned his thoughts in sweet palm wine that day, maybe none of this would have happened.
"And this," he said at last, voice shaking, "this is how you chose to take revenge on my family?"
That was when his hand moved.
I saw it clearly—the swing, the flash of fury—and before Gustav could say another word, the slap landed with a deafening crack, the force so brutal it sent him spinning across the ground, clutching his ear as if the world itself had struck him down.
Even then, Father looked like he wanted more, like he wanted to beat the lesson into Gustav’s bones, but just as he raised his hand again, Mother stepped in beside him and stopped him, her presence the only thing strong enough to halt the storm that had finally broken loose.
Author Notes: I would like to say a big thank you to everyone for reading this novel, and our top fans,I appreciate every comment, review, powerstones, golden tickets you guys give the book. But we need more.]
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