3.1. Me envenena

Haugstad, Kingdom of Divinium, Eastern region of Rohana Federation, 2035 S.C. 293rd day

"How many crystals have you activated?" Adel’s question lingered in the air.

Haran hesitated, the pause stretching just long enough to deepen the tension.

"None," he said at last. His voice was steady, but there was something guarded in his tone. "That is to say, I’ve never used a crystal on myself. Our research revolved around channeling their power through catalysts, much like how the cities use them now. I’m certain the church has tried the same. But they must have learned, as we did, that only catalysts can channel the powders of tainted crystals. And even then, their effects are temporary. Soul crystals, on the other hand, could endure for as long as the world itself. I’m convinced the light within them is tethered to the very essence of our world."

Adel leaned forward. "What happened during the test, Haran?"

"I don’t know," Haran said, his voice barely above a whisper, heavy with despair. "I remember nothing of what occurred. When I woke, the catalysts had shattered, their remnants scattered like ash. Four soul crystals were gone." He paused, his jaw tightening as he forced himself to continue. "And Loretta..." His voice cracked. "She was dead. Burned, likely by the red crystal. She had been standing near the staff with its catalyst."

"What were you trying to do?" Adel asked, his voice laced with concern.

"Foolishness, Adel. Utter foolishness. We sought to channel the power of four elements. Our goal was to replicate the creation of a floating island. There’s an old tale about how cities came to float in the sky. They say earth, fire, water, and air formed circles, and from the barren land below, particles rose to meet them. Together, they birthed the floating islands. But these aren’t official records. Everything we knew came from fragments buried in the church’s archives. I don’t know what happened, Adel. I don’t even remember activating the crystals."

Adel’s expression hardened, his tone turning frigid. "Haran, are you a fugitive from the church? If you are, we will have no choice but to turn you over to them. That’s not something I can compromise on."

"I’m not," Haran said firmly. Finally, he lifted his cup and took a long sip of the mead. "Loretta and I weren’t the only ones part of the experiment. There were others. And under threats of retaliation, I fled with my son."

"I have to question your fatherhood, Haran," Adel said, his tone cutting but not cruel. "From the moment you awoke here, your every thought has been for your son’s safety. Your first words were a plea for his life. Yet, by your actions, you nearly left him an orphan."

"I know," Haran yelled, slamming his fist against the table. The sudden noise startled Heron awake, and the baby’s wails filled the room. Haran was on his feet instantly, crossing to the cradle to scoop the child into his arms. He rocked Heron gently, whispering soft reassurances until the cries subsided. Once Heron was quiet again, Haran laid him back down and returned to sit on the bed, now calmer.

"I’m sorry, Adel," Haran said, his voice low. "There were others who worked on the project with us. They fueled new ideas, pushed for the experiments. After we succeeded with two soul gems, the adrenaline, the excitement... it clouded our judgment. We convinced ourselves we could scale the experiment, that we could harness more. We thought we were on the verge of something monumental."

Haran paused, his gaze drifting toward the cradle where his son slept. "We believed we could reshape the world. That Heron would grow up in a world where humanity no longer bowed to nature, but ruled it. We thought we had found the key to everything."

"Haran, that’s madness," Adel said with a sharp tone. "Even tainted crystals cause side effects."

"That’s never been proven," Haran countered. "There are correlations, yes, but they’re few and far between."

Adel’s frustration bled into his words. "That’s your view from behind your safe towers and fortified walls. Here, where we build wooden fences and send our young to their deaths, we see the truth. The number of monsters and demons grows every star cycle. Natural resources dwindle. We have less to live on, and less to fight for."

He paused, his gaze distant, trying to imagine a version of a future. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, but it carried a weight that made the words linger.

"I’m old, Haran. I won’t live to see it. But the young will. They’ll see the day when we fight the cities for resources. And that’s the day we lose. We don’t have the technology to stand against an army. And if we don’t fight? Then we’ll be choosing who will die so that others may live. And how much is even that worth?"

"I understand your concerns, Adel," Haran began, trying to speak calmly. "But that’s the ignorance of villagers speaking. Crystals can enhance the growth and preservation of food. I’ve witnessed it myself, time and again. Nothing in nature changed because of it. You can’t claim it's relations of events occurring hundreds of miles away." Haran clenched his fists, lowering his gaze. "And even if you’re right, why didn’t our experiment fail in the same way?"

Adel said nothing. He sat back in his chair, arms folded across his chest, his gaze fixed on Haran, unreadable.

"And what’s your plan now?" the old man finally asked with a heavy tone. "It will be at least 70 more days before the last stretch of the cycle ends and the snow subsides. Any attempt to leave before then would spell certain death for you and your son."

"You’re right," Haran admitted. "My sincere request is that you allow us to remain in the village during this time. I’ve already told you I have no money, but once my strength is fully restored, I will use my knowledge and abilities to aid the village however I can, in exchange for food and shelter."

"Haran, I’ll be frank with you," Adel began, his voice starting to sound tired. "Our resources are stretched thin. I can’t say whether others will willingly sacrifice their food and drink to support you and your son. At the same time, it feels morally right to offer you what aid we can. But this is not a decision I can make alone. I need to bring it to the council. For now, what you’ve been given comes from the kindness of a few of our warriors, but I can’t ask more of them. The council must decide. I’ll gather them in three days at the administrative barracks. When the time comes, you’ll present your case."

Haran inclined his head. "I couldn’t ask for more."

"Good. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need time to process everything I’ve heard. There are other council members in the village whom I must inform about this as well."

Adel rose from his seat and bowed slightly before stepping out into the cold. Yuri stood watch outside.

"Yuri," Adel said, pausing, "until the council has made its decision about our visitors, I advise you to keep your conversations with him to what’s necessary."

Yuri’s brow furrowed. "I understand. But… is it really that bad?"

"For us, no," Adel replied in a thoughtful tone. "If anything, today has only confirmed what our ancestors believed. Those who dwell in the cities are driven by their insatiable hunger for progress, devoid of spiritual and intellectual growth. They play with forces they cannot comprehend. This man is proof of that. He should be pitied, not judged."

As Adel turned to walk the snow-covered path, his pace was measured, his gaze drifting upward. The faint glimmer of the crosses above reflected faintly in his eyes as he murmured to himself, "Is this land of ours truly an abyss?"

Three days had passed, and Haran now found himself in the heart of Haugstad’s governance. Before him stood a wooden table in the shape of an arc. Seven council members sat behind it, with Haran seated on a chair before them. Among them was Adel, seated to the side, his expression unreadable.

To Haran’s right stood two warriors. One was Yuri, his familiar presence steady and silent. The other, a broad-shouldered man with a stern gaze, was unknown to Haran but radiated the quiet authority of a seasoned warrior.

All the council members were elderly, four women and three men. At the table’s center sat a woman with fiery red curls and dark skin, her gaze sharp.

She addressed Haran. "My name is Melinda," she began. "I serve as the representative of the Haugstad council. Brother Adel has informed us of your circumstances and requested this meeting to discuss proposals and find a resolution regarding your presence here."

Haran inclined his head respectfully. "Thank you for taking the time to consider my case," he said, his voice calm but measured.

Melinda’s expression didn’t soften. Her tone, when she spoke again, was decisive. "No hearing is necessary," she said. Beside her, Adel shifted in his seat, his gaze dropping, unwilling to meet Haran’s eyes.

"Brother Adel has provided us with all the information we need," Melinda continued. "Haran, your history is in direct conflict with the values this community upholds. There is little room for options here."

"With all due respect," Haran began, his tone composed but imploring, "I’ve made mistakes—mistakes I deeply regret. But none of them were directed at you or your village. My errors are tied to another land, not even your kingdom."

Melinda’s gaze remained steady. "That may be true, Haran. But it doesn’t change who you are or the path you’ve walked. You’ve dealt in methods that we believe contradict the Creators’ vision for humanity. And then there’s the fact that you are a stranger, a man who has crossed great distances, fleeing something that threatens to catch up with him. We cannot risk this village being dragged into a conflict not of our making."

"Please," Haran said, his voice soft, almost pleading. "Just hear me out."

Melinda’s demeanor shifted slightly, but the resolve in her voice did not waver. "Haran, we are not tyrants. But the reality of our situation is stark. Our resources barely suffice for the village. For several cycles now, we’ve witnessed nature’s changes. They were subtle at first, but are undeniable. The land offers less with each passing year. The monsters grow more numerous. And some of them..." Her voice faltered for a moment before she pressed on. "Some of them cannot be fought with conventional weapons. They lack physical form and require the use of crystals. This world is producing blasphemous phenomena. We never saw or heard of these so-called demons until twenty star-cycles ago. Since then, we have been forced to abandon many of our hunting grounds. This cycle, it was a struggle to gather enough to last through this season."

Melinda paused, drawing a steadying breath before continuing. "We have a proposal for you, Haran. Leave your baby here with us until the warmer days return. In the meantime, you can take refuge in the nearby city. You carry the emblem of a citizen; I’m confident they will offer you aid. The journey in this weather is perilous, so we’ll provide you with clothing and camping supplies. You’ll also have two more days to stay here before you must depart. If the weather permits, you may leave earlier.

"The city of Jamtara lies two days west of here on foot. The same proposal stands if you choose to take your son with you. But be warned; the roads are treacherous. I cannot promise you’ll survive. The very fact that you arrived here without proper equipment tells us you were attacked and forced to abandon it. You know the dangers well. Are you truly ready to risk your son’s life on those roads?"

As Melinda spoke, Haran lowered his gaze to the floor. Slowly, tears began to stream down his face. His hands clenched tightly, and his voice was sharp and hissing as he addressed the council.

"You are right about not being tyrants. You are monsters."

"Haran," Adel interjected, his tone tinged with disapproval, but Melinda silenced him with a raised hand.

"How can you stand there and hypocritically call this a hearing," Haran continued, his voice rising, "when your decision was made before I ever spoke? You’ve left me with no real choice. Either I walk into certain death alone or take my son with me to share the same fate."

"Haran," Adel began, stepping forward, his voice tempered with urgency. "There’s no guarantee you’ll face danger on the journey. You’ll have food, water, and proper clothing to see you through. If you made it this far, it’s proof you have the skills to survive the road ahead."

Haran’s head lifted slowly, revealing eyes that had transformed. His corneas bleached white, and his pupils disappeared. When he spoke, his voice was unnervingly calm, carrying some kind of distortion between the vowels.

"Fewer mouths to feed mean more food for those who remain," Haran said as a pale glow surrounded him. The glow was soft at first, but it kept intensifying.

Adel realized what was about to happen and shouted, "Everyone, take cover!"