Draven did not hold back. Steel screamed through the air as his sword descended in a relentless storm of strikes. Each swing was precise, lethal—born from years of war. Rafael staggered back, empty-handed, forced to rely on instinct alone.
Nearby, Malrek lay sprawled against the shattered remains of a wall, blood trailing from his mouth. His eyes followed the fight helplessly. He couldn't keep up.
Their movements blurred beyond his perception—too fast, too violent. All he could do was watch and pray Rafael survived.
Draven pressed harder. Rafael ducked beneath a blade that should have split his skull, twisting aside with ease that startled even him. Was I always this fast…? Or is Draven just slow?
The thought barely formed before Draven leapt backwards, boots carving grooves into the dirt. His free hand rose, fingers curling as a chant spilled from his lips. Aether surged. Flames roared to life in his palm, swelling into a massive fireball that warped the air around it.
Rafael froze. I won't dodge that in time. The fireball launched. Instinct took over. Rafael jumped.
The ground shattered beneath his feet as he rocketed skyward, the force of it stealing the breath from his lungs. Draven's eyes widened. Malrek's jaw slackened. "How did he jump that high…?" Malrek muttered.
Midair, Rafael clapped his palms together. Wind magic screamed in response, gathering around his palms. As he fell, he tore his hands apart—and released it. A violent gale erupted upon impact, a compressed wall of wind that detonated outward. Draven was hurled backwards like a rag doll, crashing through debris. Even Malrek was lifted off the ground and slammed aside.
Silence followed. Rafael didn't wait. His eyes snapped to the house. Mother. He sprinted through the wreckage, heart hammering. Inside, dust hung thick in the air—but Sara lay exactly where he'd left her.
Peaceful. Unmoving. Relief flooded him. He exhaled shakily—
"She's dead." Rafael turned. Draven stood behind him, sword lowered, voice hollow. "What…?" Rafael whispered. Draven's expression twisted, grief bleeding through his fury. "I went to war. I trusted you with one thing. One. Take care of her." His voice cracked. "And you failed."
Rafael shook his head violently. "No—she was sick. I was trying to save her—" He rushed to Sara's side and pressed trembling fingers to her neck. No pulse. His breath hitched. Again. Nothing. The world tilted. "She… can't be…" His vision blurred. "She was breathing last night—"
Reality crushed down on him. She was gone. Rafael's legs gave out. Behind him, Draven's sword slipped from his grasp. The metal hit the floor with a dull clang as he collapsed to his knees.
A sound tore from his throat—raw, broken. He cried openly. Rafael knelt beside him. A single tear traced down his cheek. But it wasn't grief that filled his chest.
It was regret. Helplessness. And a hatred for his own weakness so deep it threatened to consume him whole.
Rafael lay on the shattered floor, breath ragged, chest burning as if something inside him had been torn open.
His mind betrayed him. He imagined a world where she never fell ill. A world where he never stained his hands with blood just to keep her alive. A world where he was strong enough.
If only he had acted faster. If only he had been better. If only— A cry ripped from his throat. It was raw. Broken. Filled with anguish and regret so deep it warped the air itself. The shadows came alive.
They bled from beneath Rafael's body, spilling outward like living ink. Draven staggered back in shock as the darkness crept across the floor, silent and deliberate, until it reached Sara.
The shadows rose.
They wrapped around her form and lifted her gently into the air, as if cradling something precious. Darkness rippled and folded in on itself, swallowing her whole. Rafael and Draven could only watch.
The shadows pulsed—once, twice—then slowly unravelled, lowering her back to the ground with impossible care. The darkness peeled away and sank back into Rafael's shadow, leaving silence behind.
Rafael lunged forward. "Mother!" His hands shook as he pressed his fingers to her neck. "Mom—please—" A heartbeat. Weak—but real. Her chest rose.
Colour returned to her pale skin, warmth spreading across her face. The hollowness in her cheeks faded, flesh knitting itself whole as if time itself had been rewritten.
Her eyelids fluttered. Slowly, brown eyes opened. She looked at the two figures hovering over her—wide-eyed, trembling, frozen in disbelief. Sara smiled. "Why…" she murmured softly, "…are you crying, my boys?"
Something in Rafael shattered. He sobbed as he threw his arms around her. Draven followed an instant later, gripping her as if she might vanish again. They cried—not from pain this time—but from overwhelming relief.
Sara wrapped her arms around them both, pulling them close. "I'm alright now," she said gently. "Everything will be alright."
They sat beneath the open sky, the chaos finally giving way to peace.
Sara rested on a flat stone, her posture still weak but steady. Rafael and Draven sat cross-legged on the grass before her, close enough that she could reach out and touch them if she wished.
A short distance away, Malrek leaned against a broken beam, carefully wrapping cloth around the wounds Draven had dealt him earlier. His movements were slow, measured—but his eyes kept drifting back to the small family gathered nearby.
He watched them speak and laugh softly, watched the way Sara looked at her sons as if they were her entire world.
Envy stirred in his chest.
He had never known a family. Never known warmth that wasn't bought or stolen. He didn't know what it felt like to be loved—and seeing it so openly only made the absence ache sharper.
Rafael spoke quietly, telling them everything. About searching for medicine. About the bounties. About the choices he had made when time ran out.
Sara covered her mouth in shock. Draven stared at his brother as if seeing him for the first time.
"You did all that…" Draven murmured. "For Mom?" Rafael nodded. "I didn't have a choice." Concern flickered in Sara's eyes—fear mixed with pride. Draven's expression twisted, and suddenly he dropped to one knee before Rafael. "I'm sorry," he said hoarsely. "I didn't know. I accused you… attacked you… when you were carrying all of this alone."
Rafael blinked, then shook his head. "There's nothing to forgive. It's over now. That's what matters." Sara looked at him carefully. "So… you killed someone to save me?" Rafael hesitated, then answered honestly. "Yes. Unfortunately, I had no other way."
Her breath caught. Shock crossed her face, followed by grief. "Oh, Rafael…" she whispered. "I'm so sorry. I never wanted you to walk through hell because of me." Rafael smiled faintly, warmth spreading through his chest. "I'd do it again," he said softly. "A thousand times, if it meant keeping you alive."
Then he glanced toward Malrek. "But I couldn't have done it alone." Sara followed his gaze. "Is that your friend?" Rafael nodded. "My only one." Malrek froze. He hadn't meant to listen—but the words struck him harder than any blade ever had. Friend. Something in his chest tightened painfully. He looked away, blinking fast.
Draven stood and bowed his head toward Malrek. "I'm sorry for attacking you. I thought you were an enemy." Malrek waved it off awkwardly. "I've had worse."
Sara smiled at him gently. "Then come sit with us. A friend of my son is always welcome in my home." For a moment, Malrek couldn't move. Then he swallowed hard and joined them, sitting beside Rafael. His hands trembled slightly, but he didn't hide them.
Draven glanced toward the ruins behind them. "So… what about the house?" The four of them looked back at the half-destroyed structure, scorched and broken. Rafael sighed—then grinned. "That's not a problem." He reached into his cloak and pulled out a heavy sack. When he loosened the tie, gold coins spilled into view, gleaming under the sunlight.
Draven's eyes widened. "That's enough to buy a mansion." Sara stared, stunned. "Rafael…" "It's from bounty hunting," Rafael said calmly. "It can buy us a good house—somewhere quiet. Enough left over for food, clothes… a proper life."
He tied the sack again and placed it in Sara's hands. "You decide." Sara looked at the gold, then at her sons. Her smile was small, but sincere. "All I want," she said, "is a peaceful place to live with my boys."
Rafael smiled. "Then I know exactly where we should go." She stood, strength slowly returning to her legs. "Then let's go now." One by one, they rose. And together, they walked toward the town—toward a future none of them had dared to hope for.
Rafael led them into town as the sun dipped lower in the sky.
After a brief search, he found a man known for dealing in property—houses, land, anything that could be bought and sold for the right price. Malrek kept his face hidden beneath a deep cloak, careful not to draw attention.
The man guided them beyond the crowded streets, past familiar homes, until they reached a quiet bend by a narrow river.
"There," the man said, gesturing ahead. "This one."
The house stood firm and welcoming—a two-storey structure of stone and wood, sturdy without being ostentatious. A thick ring of flowering bushes surrounded it, their colors soft against the fading light, while a few tall trees offered shade and privacy. It wasn't secluded like their old home, but it wasn't exposed either.
From one side, the town stretched into view—rooftops, chimneys, distant noise. From the other, rolling hills marked the boundary between village and province, their silhouettes calm and unchanging.
Sara stepped forward slowly, her eyes taking it all in. "It's beautiful," she said quietly. That was all Rafael needed to hear.
The deal was quick. Gold exchanged hands, keys were given, and just like that, the house was theirs. They settled in as evening fell.
Once everything was quiet, Rafael sat with his mother and told her the truth—about Malrek. About the bounties. About how he was an orphan with nowhere else to go.
Sara listened without interrupting.
When Rafael finished, she looked toward Malrek, who stood stiffly near the doorway, hands clenched beneath his cloak.
"So," she said gently, "you have no family?"
Malrek hesitated… then shook his head.
"No home?"
Another shake.
Sara stood and walked toward him. Malrek froze, unsure what to do.
"Then," she said with a soft smile, "I suppose I have no choice."
She opened her arms.
"I'll adopt you."
For a moment, Malrek didn't understand the words. Then they hit him all at once. He didn't believe her either. On seeing her seriousness and sincere smile, he knew it was true.
His knees buckled. Tears spilled freely as he collapsed into her embrace, clutching her robes as if afraid she might vanish. He cried without restraint—years of loneliness, pain, and survival breaking apart in her arms.
Sara held him tightly, stroking his hair. "You're safe now," she whispered. "You're home."
Rafael watched silently, a faint smile on his lips. For the first time since this life began… They weren't just surviving anymore. They were a family.