He opened the door, and an icy wind swept into the room in a furious gust and swirled in the fireplace, making the fire sway like a living thing, curtsying and dancing to the sound of the gale.

He felt exhausted, and fear was already taking its hungry toll. His body was taut as a rope, his muscles tired and aching. His thoughts swirled - just like the fire. He had hunted prey, though; there would be enough meat for several days, even if they had to limit themselves. He would feed his family, and that was the most important thing.

He quickly closed the door so the warmth wouldn’t be completely evacuated from the house.

The Markon house wasn’t the largest in the village - but it was neither small nor dilapidated. Alina and Gravir took good care of the place where they spent most of their time - and which still didn’t belong to the fae. They never forgot what home was - the people who lived in it. Not the fears, but the battle against them.

Tiyan’s limbs started to feel again, which was taken by the cold from him.. He placed the meat on a chair - the blood slowly began to drip to the ground. The dog quickly ran over to dip his tongue in it.

“Tiyan!”

“Mina.”

The boy couldn’t help but smile faintly - it was because of her that he risked such a late hunt, because of her that he woke up every morning, knowing the cold and hard work awaited him. A crescent moon in a starless night. Watching her starve would be harder than starving himself.

The agile bundle of legs, arms, and fabric attacked him with furious force. Mina laughed; she still had the ability to laugh, and whenever she did, his world became a little less terrifying. Even though she was malnourished, she saw the good in everything, as only a child could. He regretted that his childhood, even the meager semblance he had, had been robbed on the battlefield. Even if it had taught him many things - though not necessarily the right ones. The sight of his thirteen-year-old sister, so thin, yet filled with an optimism he didn’t share, filled him with heartache, but it also reminded him that even cruelty couldn’t completely extinguish the spark that lay dormant in humanity.

“Did you bring food?” Mina asked, checking the sack. Her small hands felt the contents. “Anglor again?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” he replied tiredly, his feet now carrying him closer to the fireplace, where he hoped to warm himself. “They’re the easiest prey, despite their weight and sharp teeth.”

Mina took the sack and carried it to the kitchen.

“Alina, Tiyan brought rotten meat,” she said almost joyfully. Tiyan’s lips curved into a smile again.

His mother emerged from the kitchen alcove. Alina Markon looked tired - and not just today. Her thinning hair was gray and short like moss, and her face was covered in extensive burns. She, too, had fought in the war, and her scars weren’t limited to her face. The ones that still hadn’t healed were buried deep within her soul. Tiyan vaguely remembered her being captured by lesser fae shortly after the Unseelie conquered Avras. And that she never wanted to talk about it.

She sucked in a breath.

“Anglor?”

Tiyan nodded resignedly. He didn’t know how she did it. The scent - he could smell everything, even emotion, even fear. But of course she was right.

“I’ll try to hunt something… bigger. With better meat,” he said, knowing how weak it sounded.

“If you know you can’t, don’t try,” she replied, taking the bag from Mina. “You’re back too late. The night is wild and full of monsters.”

Oh, Tiyan knew that. He’d just encountered some of them - monsters drawn to his fear and not easily disposed of.

Alina disappeared into the kitchen and began cleaning the meat of the last remnants of rot. Tiyan was grateful he didn’t have to do it alone. He felt his muscles relax, the worst tension slipping away, stolen by the warmth of the fireplace and the presence of his family. He sat down in his favorite armchair and let his body sink into the seat and cushions, feeling safe.

Even if he wasn’t safe.

Not at all.

Mina sat down too, watching him through narrowed eyes. Her eyebrows always seemed out of place on her small, ethereal face - thick, long-haired, and coal-black.

“You’re all torn up,” she finally said, and it took him a few seconds to realize she was referring to his tattered clothes. “Did anglor fight hard?”

“No… not really,” he sighed. “He was just heavy. And of course, the claws. They were everywhere.”

Mina played with the end of the fringed cape she wrapped herself in on really cold days. She could sit and stare - it bothered others. Tiyan loved his sister just the way she was.

“Are you afraid of something?” she tilted her head, and now she looked almost like a little faerie, curious about his explanations and trials.

Don’t compare, Tiyan. Mina has nothing of the fae in her.

Besides, was it that obvious? He sank even deeper into his chair, refusing to talk. He was truly afraid. If the lesser folk were after him now, they could all be in danger. And though he hated lying to his family, he had exposed them to a particularly cruel fate. Selfishly, he hoped he wouldn’t be forced to leave the village, like everyone else who had been touched by the fae’s attention. Naively, he believed his family could protect him. He closed his eyes and let his thoughts drift away.

Mina remained silent. She knew him too well to delve any further.

Not to think at all.

That had saved him. But it wouldn’t save him again. The fae had thanked him for his curtsy, letting him escape, and now they would simply engage in whatever cruel game they had planned for him.

Dream slowly, jealously, fought the memory of the evening’s game and was winning. He was too tired. Fear had sapped all his strength, and Tiyan couldn’t even surrender to it in his usual way.

When Tiyan opened his eyes again, the meat was already cooked, and the smell - mixed with the few spices they still had - filled the room. It wasn’t rotten - they knew how to prepare meat. But it would be hard to admire a taste that anglor practically didn’t possess.

Gravir Markon was already sitting at the table, his boots caked in mud and snow, staring at Tiyan. His father always tried to cushion the shock his family might experience when problems took a dark turn, but he never lied to them. Tiyan, on the other hand… was accustomed to keeping his thoughts behind tightly closed doors, never sharing his problems with them, and sometimes not even telling them the truth. So often that Mina never believed him when he swore he was fine. And his mother gave him a knowing look when something deviated from the norm.

He hated his lies.

Tiyan didn’t have to wait long before Gravir spoke:

“You met the fae.”

His throat tightened in an unusually tight vise.

“Yes, father.”

There was no need to lie. Not now, not under these circumstances. After all, it wasn’t his family’s fault.

“They didn’t kill you.”

“No.”

“So they want something from you.”

Almost like a sentence… but from where…

“Alina felt them on you.”

Ah, his mother. Her… gift. Which she also didn’t want to talk about. Tiyan was almost certain it had something to do with her time in captivity, so… he never asked.

Mina helped her mother - they were scooping up the thick broth and separating the pieces of meat. Tiyan had never been so eager to join in the preparations for the table.

“How did you escape them?” Gravir insisted.

“I… I tried the Law of the Open Mind.”

“You fool.”

Tiyan swallowed hard. A fool. That’s what he was. The small folk would come for him, if not tomorrow, then the day after. Or they would prolong the game to give him hope and appear when he least expected it.

“You gave them access to your fears and memories, foolish boy. Now they know what you fear most… and what you love most. Who you care about.”

“So I was supposed to let them devour me?” Tiyan summoned the last of his will. His father’s gaze deepened, his brown eyes piercing him to the bone.

“Perhaps. That would be better. Not for us. For you.”

Tiyan knew it. Gravir was right. His life was marked by fear and a beautiful nightmare, and this was only the beginning.

He would know true fear yet. Deeply and painfully.

“Will you send me to the forest?” Tiyan struggled to form sentences. If the answer were yes, he would be damned in every sense of the word. But at the same time, he didn’t want to endanger him. Not his mother. Not Mina.

Gravir continued to stare at him intensely, his struggle for common sense evident in his eyes.

“No. No, Tiyan, even if, in the eyes of the villagers, I should. But I won’t. You don’t deserve to be banished just because you refused to die.”

“But they can come for you too,” Tiyan’s voice dripped with bitterness.

“Nothing that walks this earth lives forever, even if it claims to be immortal. I will fight for my home. And I hope you will too. Exile…is not the path our situation has taught me. We should stick together, or the fear of the faeries will consume us.”

Tiyan suspected his father was a fool. But he was grateful for his decision, which came from the heart, not the mind.

Alina brought the wooden plates with meat. Mina jumped up to the table and sat down in her usual spot.

And Tiyan… Tiyan had lost his appetite.