3.2. Me envenena

In an instant, a roar echoed through the room, followed by a deafening blast. The table with the elders hurtled toward the cabin wall. For a moment, it seemed inevitable that the elders would be crushed, but the table stopped mere centimeters from the wall, defying the pressure. The chairs got shattered, and fragments pierced the walls, leaving holes where the splinters had punched through.

Before anyone could process what had happened, Yuri and the second warrior launched themselves at Haran, tackling him to the ground with practiced precision. Yuri moved swiftly, pulling a small vial of crimson powder from his belt. With one forceful exhale, he blew the powder directly into Haran’s face.

Haran’s body went limp instantly, and the glow around him extinguished as he fell into unconsciousness.

"Is everyone alright?" Yuri asked after making sure Haran was indisposed.

"I… I think so," Melinda replied, her words shaky. "My bones are trembling from the force of that wind."

The elders were slowly getting to their feet. Thankfully, no one was injured. They all gathered around Haran, who lay unconscious on the floor.

"What are you waiting for?" one of the male elders demanded, his voice rising in panic. "Take a knife and kill him! You want him to wake up and finish what he started?"

"Stop!" Adel’s voice rang out, sharp and commanding. "We are not killing anyone. The damage is done, yes, but no one here has been harmed. Besides," he added, his voice lowering, tinged with something almost sorrowful, "I’ve seen that look before in my youth. That wasn’t Haran."

Turning to Yuri and the other warrior, Adel continued, "Search him. Find the crystal. It must have been overlooked when you stripped him of his wrappings."

"But there wasn’t any crystal. Malcolm and I thoroughly searched his belongings when we removed his wrappings," Yuri protested.

"Then you missed something," one of the female elders interjected, her voice tight with frustration. "This was clearly an act of magic."

"No," Yuri said, his tone resolute. "There was no oversight. Every piece of cloth, every belonging, was separated from Haran and his son while the healer worked on their injuries. Whatever this is, it escaped all of us."

"Look at his hands," Melinda suddenly said.

The skin on Haran’s hands had begun to crack, forming patterns that resembled vents from which air seemed to escape. And then, as the act was done, his skin returned to normal as if nothing ever happened.

"Don’t tell me…" Melinda began, but Adel continued her train of thought.

"This man is a catalyst," Adel declared, his tone heavy with certainty. "He lied when he said he hadn’t used crystals on himself."

The weight of his words hung in the air, the elders exchanging uneasy glances. Adel’s brow furrowed as he turned toward the warriors standing over Haran’s unconscious form.

"Yuri, Marko," he said, his voice sharp. "Bind him to a chair. Then fetch two warriors to guard him until he wakes. I want his explanation. If he wakes, we will hear him out. After that, I will decide his fate."

Yuri hesitated for a moment before asking, "And if he tries to attack again?"

Adel’s expression turned steely, his voice devoid of emotion. "Then instruct them to kill him without hesitation."

The command left no room for argument, and the room seemed to grow colder in its wake.

When Haran opened his eyes, the world around him was a haze of shifting shapes and dull colors. As his vision sharpened, the details came into focus: the coarse ropes binding him to a chair, the cold steel of spears pressing against his neck, and, directly before him, Adel, seated across from him. Adel’s expression was ice-cold and unforgiving.

"Adel…" Haran muttered.

"I thought you were an honorable man, Haran. Why did you lie to me?"

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," Haran replied, his voice tinged with confusion. He tried instinctively to raise a hand to his head, but the ropes held firm, and realization struck like a blow. He was bound. The dull ache in his wrists sharpened as his senses returned fully, and he felt the rough bite of the restraints against his skin.

"What is happening?" he asked, his voice filled with confusion and fear.

"That’s what I would like to know. But this time, the truth," Adel replied sharply.

"Adel, I don’t know what’s going on. The last thing I remember was being at the hearing and being told I had to leave the village without my son…" Haran trailed off, his gaze falling to the floor as his thoughts raced.

He stopped for the moment. "I think I understand a grasp of what has occurred," he continued quietly. "Adel, you don’t have to spare my life, but please spare the life of my son."

"Once again, you’re trying to manipulate my empathy," Adel said in a cold voice. Then, with a sudden eruption of fury, he roared, "BUT IT WON’T WORK! I WANT THE TRUTH, AND I WANT IT NOW!" His chest heaved as he caught his breath, the strain of his outburst evident. It had been years since Adel had raised his voice like that, and the effort left his throat raw.

"Adel, you probably won’t believe me, but I don’t know what I did to end up tied to this chair. However, I can tell you the cause," Haran said, pausing briefly before uttering the word, "Demons."

Adel’s eyes narrowed, with his voice remaining icy. "What are you talking about, Haran? What demons?"

"Adel," Haran said, his gaze dropping to the floor, his voice quieter but no less intense, "I told you I’ve paid a price. But I wasn’t talking about Loretta’s death. I was talking about myself. After the experiment… when I woke up… I started hearing voices.

"They sound human, but they aren’t. They speak in a language I can’t understand, repeating the same phrases over and over. Sometimes, they scream. And it’s not just the voices, Adel. They carry emotions like pain, hatred, and envy, and they force them onto me.

"And if I don’t find a mindset to reject those emotions, they overwhelm me, and I lose control. And with that, I lose my memory too."

"Haran…" Adel began, but the words seemed to escape him. He struggled to string them together. "When I was a young boy, perhaps no more than seven cycles old, I saw something very similar to what you’re describing. My father, the commander of the guard, was given a soul crystal by a traveling merchant after saving him and his wife from certain death. I remember that crystal. White as snow, with tiny golden flecks floating beneath its surface."

Adel paused, drawing a deep breath before pressing on. "The merchant told my father never to touch the crystal with his bare hands. He gave it to him in a special leather sack and told him to sell it in the city to the church, in exchange for tools and supplies for our village. He knew, as all villagers do, that we wanted nothing to do with crystals. And for a time tucked away it stayed. Until one day, I… I tried to take it from its pouch."

Adel’s eyes filled with tears as he recalled the memory. "I didn’t get to touch the crystal. My father knocked the pouch from my hands, and the crystal fell. Instinctively, my father reached for it, catching it with his bare hand.

"The moment he did, a faint white aura enveloped him. He stood there, frozen, like a statue carved of ice. Minutes passed, but to me, they felt like hours. I pulled at his pant leg, but it was as though I didn’t exist to him. I shouted his name, over and over, until finally, he blinked and returned to himself.

"He looked down at the crystal in his hand as if it were a foreign object, something alien. He didn’t remember how it got there. He placed it back into the pouch, and for a moment, I thought everything was fine. But it wasn’t. The damage…" Adel’s voice trailed off. "The damage was already done."

Haran shifted slightly, as if to interject, but the ropes binding him stopped his movement. He bit back his words, sensing that this was not a story he could interrupt. Adel pressed on.

"A few days passed, but my father still hadn’t gone to the city to sell the crystal. At first, I thought it was because he was busy with village duties. But then, one day, I found him turning the crystal over in his hand. He was talking to someone, or something. But the room was empty. I’ve asked him: Who are you talking to? But he didn’t even register that I was in the room. It was like his mind was somewhere else entirely."

"Then I saw his face, and his eyes were as white as snow. I got scared and I started to pull at his sleeve and shout his name over and over to bring him back. And this time, it wasn’t quick. It took far longer than before. When he finally came to, his face was pale with realization, and he quickly shoved the crystal back into its pouch, stumbling through excuses."

"I was just a boy. I didn’t understand why he felt the need to justify himself. I didn’t have much education, but even then, I knew crystals weren’t something we should meddle with. I asked him: Why are you playing with the crystal if you know it’s bad? The shame on his face was unmistakable."

Adel paused, swallowing hard, before continuing. "A few more days passed. Then, he called me out to the meadow by the old mill. That’s where he showed me the magic of the white crystal. I’ll never forget it. He began to float, rising above the ground as though gravity itself had been unbound. The grass beneath him bent and swayed as gusts of wind pushed him higher.

"And that’s when I saw it. The curse. My father didn’t understand how the crystal worked. He started creating a vacuum around himself. The air vanished. He was suffocating.

"By some miracle, he managed to free himself. The air returned, but an unseen force knocked him to the ground. The impact broke his ribs. We had no way to treat such injuries. For three agonizing days, he lay in our home, unable to breathe properly, and then…" Adel’s voice cracked slightly, but he steadied himself. "Then he succumbed to the injuries."

"After the incident, the village head took the pouch with the crystal and placed it on a small boat. They let it drift downriver, hoping it would carry the curse far from our lives. For my mother and me, life became much harder after that, as my father had been the main provider of stability, food, and money."

Adel’s gaze fixed firmly on Haran, voicing a blend of quiet rage and painful understanding. "So, Haran, I know the symptoms you speak of. Now, tell me, where is your crystal?"

Haran’s gaze locked with Adel’s as both men stood silent, unwavering. Finally, Haran spoke in a low voice, but the sound was still resolute. "I don’t have any crystals. You’ve seen everything I own."

Adel leaned forward, his expression a mix of scrutiny and frustration. "Haran, magic does not manifest without crystals. Unless you’ve been cursed by the Creators themselves, which I doubt, there must be a crystal. You must be in contact with it. Be honest with me. Have you undergone a procedure to fuse a crystal with your body?"

"I told you everything. I have not used crystals on myself,” Haran was adamant.

Adel’s gaze narrowed, the lines on his face deepening as he leaned back slightly. "Haran," he said, his voice now tinged with a stern finality, "you may not recall the events, but during your case presentation, you became aggressive. Your body glowed with a white aura. And yet, there was no crystal visible anywhere. When we rescued you, we stripped you naked, and we found nothing. The only place left unsearched…is inside your body."

Haran’s expression tightened, his worry deepening into something heavier. For a moment, the room fell into a still, oppressive silence. Then, he broke it with a quiet, steady voice.

"I have no reason to doubt what you’re saying," Haran said. "But I am telling the truth. Since you won’t believe me, if my punishment is death, make it swift. I only beg of you, spare my child."

Adel blinked, the words leaving him momentarily stunned. But before he could respond, Haran continued, his voice carrying a weight that seemed to drag the air down with it.