Chapter 4 – Echoes of a Year - Part 3: Scars
The end of that day brought a much more mundane worry… and a presence Lian still hadn't seen even once since being born there.
Outside, the footsteps came in different rhythms, crushing the wet mud on the road.
The rain had let up not long ago, leaving the air smelling of old earth and trampled leaves.
Lian was on the floor, sitting on a blanket, pretending to be entertained with two wooden blocks. In practice, he was just watching. The creak of the gate made his head turn before the door even opened.
The front door opened with a dry thud, as if someone had shoved the world inside the house.
Tomy came in first. The bow hanging on his shoulder, the quiver almost empty, the tired face of someone who's already come back defeated before starting.
Caliste came right behind, dirty with earth and silence. Neither of them carried prey. Not feather, not fur, not life.
Tomy tossed the bow into a corner and ran a hand over his neck, shoulders sinking.
— What the hell is going on in that forest? — he grumbled, more to himself than to the house. — Even the Silvren are disappearing this month.
Lian recognized the name. Silvren were the easiest prey when the world cooperated: big squirrels, gray fur with blue flecks, meat that could sustain them for days.
"If even they're vanishing, something's seriously wrong."
Lia opened the pantry, saw how little there was, closed it slowly. The way she closed it said she already knew the result before opening.
— I'll think of something. Tomorrow we'll harvest more.
Tomy took a deep breath, like he wanted to say something and didn't know how to start. Then he just let it out, in a low, strange tone:
— Folks, I found him on the road. Near the bend by the valley.
Lia froze for half a second.
— "Him"…?
A shadow filled the doorway.
The third one entered.
Taller than Caliste, shoulders far too broad for that small house. The simple cloak was soaked with dust and old rain.
Long, disheveled hair stuck to his forehead as if he'd been walking all day without stopping. The eyes were the worst part: hard gray, of someone who'd been chewing on hatred for far too long.
He didn't enter like a visitor. He entered like someone returning to a place he no longer recognized.
Lian lifted his head.
"So this is Will."
For a second, no one knew what to do with his presence there.
Lia was the first to react. Her face split into a beautiful and painful shock at once. She crossed the room almost stumbling, as if her body remembered before her mind did.
— Will…
She hugged her oldest son with a desperate strength, as if trying to prove he was real, that he wasn't just another bad memory. Her chest rose and fell too fast.
Tomy came closer right after. He didn't hug right away. Just placed a heavy hand on his son's shoulder, firm, a bit awkward, but full of things stuck in his throat.
— You came back, boy… — was all he managed to say, his voice scraping.
Will stayed stiff for a second inside his mother's hug. Then returned it quickly, without warmth. It didn't look like lack of love. It looked like the exhaustion of someone who'd forgotten how to receive affection.
In the corner, Lilia froze with the cloth in her hands. Her gaze stayed pinned on her brother like someone staring at an old door that had caused too many problems.
Caliste also didn't move. He just watched. But it wasn't a look of longing. It was measuring ground: "how far is this going to go wrong."
Lyra didn't.
She shot off the table like a crooked arrow, crossed the room and threw herself at her brother.
— Will! Will! You're back! — her voice came out whole, tight with happy tears.
She wrapped her arms around his waist with everything she had. Too small to reach his chest, big enough to understand how rare that was. Innocent, but not stupid. Hunger had made Lyra sharper than a child should be.
Will looked at her, and for half a second something softened on his face. A real crack.
His hand fell on his sister's head in a short caress.
— You've grown a lot, brat.
Lyra smiled like she'd won a world.
But the rest of the house didn't follow her smile. Caliste's silence and Lilia's hard stare were an answer that needed no words.
Lia loosened her hug slowly, wiped her face with the back of her hand, trying to pull the mood back.
— Are you hungry? Do you want… want something to eat? Rest? I…
Will was about to answer, but his eyes dropped.
That was when he saw Lian on the floor.
And his expression changed in a slow, ugly way, like something inside opened up to hurt again.
Lian stayed still, wearing the most baby-like face possible.
"Huh… hi?" he thought internally, while Will stared him down.
Will looked the boy up and down. It wasn't curiosity. It was calculation, mixed with a fatigue that almost looked like disgust at himself for calculating.
— What is that? — he murmured, too low to be kind. Too loud to be only thought.
The air went crooked.
Lia followed his gaze to Lian, and the hope she'd been holding in her hands turned to nerves.
— He's your new little brother, Will — she said, trying to smile. — Chris.
Will didn't answer immediately. He looked at the pot, at the table, at the flour sack tied in a corner, at the closed pantry.
He laughed. Short. Dry. Without humor.
— Another mouth.
The sentence fell like a stone in the middle of the room.
Tomy closed his eyes for an instant, like he already knew what was coming.
— Back empty-handed again… — Lia murmured, almost voiceless, more about the hunt than about the son.
Tomy dropped the bow for good.
— Didn't happen. Not even Silvren today.
Will took a deep breath. Another laugh escaped him, worse.
— I spent two years out there for what, then?
Caliste lifted his chin, old anger waking up.
— You arrived today, Will. You think you have the right to complain about anything?
Will turned slowly toward him.
— Two years, little brother. Two years out there to come back and see the same cracked house, the same empty pot… and now this. — his chin pointed to Lian on the floor. — Another mouth to feed.
He spat out "this."
Lia hardened.
— Will. Please.
He didn't even look at her.
— I went to another village to work. Put up with bosses, stone floors, did grown man work for crumb pay. I endured it because it was to bring food home. So you wouldn't turn into walking skeletons.
His voice rose a little at the end. It wasn't sadness. It was contained rage.
— And? — Tomy tried, low. — How did it go?
Will rolled his eyes at him, that crooked smile appearing.
— I got fired.
Silence.
— Because "trade fell." — he mimicked someone's tone with contempt. — "Can't keep a helper." Two years grinding myself down to come back with nothing. Nothing.
He breathed hard, trembling slightly. Then he stared at his mother.
The look that landed on her wasn't a son's. It was an accuser's.
— And you had the brilliant idea to bring another child into the world and put it in this house?
Lia opened her mouth, found no air.
— He's your brother, Will — she said, her voice breaking. — Mind your manners.
Will took a step.
— Brother? — the word came out like a lie. — That thing is another mouth. You still couldn't take proper care of Lyra. Caliste is thirteen and still lives like the world owes him a lap to crawl into. Lilia never even had the chance to go to the academy because we're commoners… and you still make another kid like bread grows on trees.
Lian's blood rose; he didn't understand everything, but enough to get the context.
"Who does this guy think he is to talk like that?" he thought, incredulous at what he could understand. Will was nothing like what he'd imagined when he first saw him walk through that door.
Tomy clenched his fists.
— Enough, Will.
— No. — Will cut in, hard. — You want me to pretend everything's fine because we always did? Look at the house, Dad. Look at Mom. Look at the table.
He slammed his hand on the plank. The pot rattled.
— This isn't life.
Lia took a step, exhausted and stubborn.
— I didn't ask you to carry the world alone. You're my son. I…
— You didn't ask. But it happens that it's inevitable.
His hand went up in a brusque gesture.
The crack was dry.
Lia staggered a step, her hand going straight to her face.
The air froze.
Lyra let out a tiny sound, swallowed in her throat. Lilia froze with the cloth in her hand. Caliste was lost between advancing and disappearing.
Lian stood still, eyes wide. Not in fear.
In a rage so clean it felt like it cut from the inside.
"If I didn't have such a useless body right now… I'd bury you here myself."
His core throbbed.
Mana circulated weakly in his chest, like embers. Without thinking, just reacting to naked, raw instinct, an invisible thread slipped out through his tiny hand.
The spoon beside the blanket trembled.
Lifted two fingers off the ground… three… as if someone were pulling it from within.
Pointed toward Will, silent, threatening to fly.
Lian barely realized what he'd done.
"What…?"
The shock was fast, the size of a blink. Reflexively, he locked the flow down completely. The spoon dropped back onto the blanket without a sound.
Luckily, no one saw. Everyone was stuck on the slap.
Tomy didn't think. His fist came straight, heavy. It hit Will's jaw and threw the boy back against the table. The wood groaned.
— Never again dare to do that to your mother or anyone in this house, Will — Tomy growled. — Never again. You hear me?
Will spat blood at the corner of his mouth. Wiped it with the back of his hand and laughed again, but now there were tears in the middle of it.
— Look at that… the house's hero. Gonna play hero now, Dad? Think I'm afraid of you? You know I'm right about all this shit.
Lia grabbed her husband's arm, trembling.
— Tomy, don't…
Will swept his eyes across the whole house. They stopped on Lian again.
Not curiosity. Tired repulsion.
— Congratulations, Mom. You got another one to love you. Hope that love fills people's bellies in this house.
He turned his back and walked out the door, toward the tool shed.
The door slammed so hard the wall shook.
For a few seconds no one breathed right.
Lia rested her forehead on the table, hand on her face, trying to hold back crying and the world at the same time.
Tomy stood still, fist still clenched, as if the punch hadn't spent even half his rage.
Lian was shaking. Not in fear.
In anger.
"We're going to have serious problems, Mr. Will. Serious problems." he thought, feeling his chest still hot from the mana reflex he'd almost unleashed.
Lia knelt down slowly and picked Lian up in her arms. Her touch trembled.
— Don't mind it, my love… — she murmured, more to herself than to him. — He's just tired from the trip. He just…
"He just chose to be a huge unconscious son of a bitch."
Lian pressed his face into her shoulder.
The forest outside was already turning to shadow on the horizon.
"I'm going to get strong. And when I can walk to that door… you're going to be forced to treat these people like people, Will. Or you'll have to get out of my way."
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