7. Aftermath from the incident

Haugstad, Kingdom of Divinium, Eastern region of Rohana Federation, 2044 S.C., 25th day

The council chamber in Haugstad's administrative barracks had changed little since Haran's first meeting with the elders years ago. The same worn wooden table, now bearing additional scars from use. The same oil lamps cast their light across familiar faces, young and old. Three former members of the council have passed away, including Adel and Melinda.

Malcolm sat at the head of the table where Adel once presided. Council has gathered on Haran’s behest.

Haran stood before them again. Scenes of events that transpired here still echoed in his mind. He wasn't here to plead for his son's life or his own. He was here in an official capacity, carrying documents bearing the Church of Harmony's seal.

"The Church has assigned me oversight of this region," Haran said, unfolding the parchment across the table. "From the barrier's edge south to the Mirith tributary, west to the Jamtara road. All abnormal creature activity falls under my jurisdiction for investigation and reporting."

Malcolm studied the document. "So they're making the serpent attack official business."

"Among other incidents." Haran kept his voice neutral and professional. "There have been three reported encounters with creatures exhibiting similar characteristics within the past two star-cycles. Unnatural aggression. Venom that shouldn't exist in native species. The church is now weary and wants to get to the bottom of things. My job is to observe and report everything that seems out of the ordinary."

"And what does this mean for us?" This came from Emilia, who sat to Malcolm's right. "More city folk tramping through our territory? More questions about how we handle our own problems?"

"No," Haran said. "I file reports directly to Jamtara. Unless there's a need for serious intervention," he paused, trying to calm the response, "the church has no interest in village affairs."

The silence that followed carried weight. Everyone in the room knew he meant "heretical activity".

"What about the serpent parts you’ve taken?" Henrik asked the older warrior who'd been in the fields during the attack. "Did your city doctors learn anything useful from it?"

Haran's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "The examination is ongoing."

It wasn't a lie, exactly. The church forensics came and documented the runes carved into the creature's flesh. There was no word on Remmus’s involvement. The official version was that Haran was summoned to help a merchant from another city who happened to be attacked while trying to reach Jamtara. Haran called Remmus in an unofficial capacity. The merchant, who had met Haran before, asked for his assistance, and Haran knew Remmus from another quest.

"I see." Malcolm's tone suggested he understood the evasion for what it was. "And your visits? I assume they'll be more frequent now?"

"Monthly patrols at minimum. More often if needed. I’ll additionally try to help around the village." Haran said.

"Outsiders are not needed," Henrik said sharply.

"True," Haran agreed. "But resources are tight everywhere, and you're down a worker." He didn't elaborate. Everyone knew Agnus's condition.

Malcolm exchanged glances with the other council members. Some unspoken communication passed between them before he nodded slowly.

"We accept the church's oversight because we have no choice in the matter. We accept your help because we're practical people."

"The council meeting is adjourned," Malcolm said, standing. The others rose as well, filing out with nods to Haran that ranged from curt to merely cold.

Only Malcolm remained behind. He rolled up Haran's documents and handed them back.

“Are you going to go and visit them?”

"Do you think they’ll mind?"

"Don’t be silly, Haran. You have saved the man’s life. They are grateful, even though life is harder on them now. Not only has their income decreased due to Agnus’s injury, but they are also being shunned for accepting the city's technology to save his life."

Haran's hands tightened on the parchment. "How bad is it?"

"Nothing existential," Malcolm said carefully. "People don't linger when Martina goes to the well. Conversations end when Agnus approaches. They're still part of the village, but the community keeps its distance. Fear tends to do that."

"Fear of what? The technology saved him."

"That's exactly what frightens them." Malcolm moved to the window, looking out at the village paths below. "If crystal magic can save, it can also destroy. You know this better than anyone, Haran. The villagers have spent generations shunning the very things the cities embrace, and now one of their own has been touched by it. They don't know what it means. Whether it's changed him somehow."

"That's superstition."

"Is it?" Malcolm turned back. "You carry crystals in your body. You lost control once, nearly killing the entire council. Can you promise me, with certainty, that Agnus won't be affected by what was done to him?"

Haran opened his mouth, then closed it. He couldn't promise that. It shouldn’t, but he is not a citizen. They are constantly exposed to the crystals.

"Exactly," Malcolm said quietly. "So people are cautious. They're not cruel, but they're careful. And Martina and Agnus bear that weight."

"Then maybe I shouldn't visit. My presence will only make it worse for them."

"Or," Malcolm said, "your presence reminds everyone that you're the one who brought this choice to their door. That you take responsibility for it. That matters, Haran. More than you might think."

Before Haran could respond, Malcolm added, "Besides, your son is there. I think you should see him."

Haran's breath caught. "Has he... said anything?"

"He has been more open to finding out about you ever since you saved his father’s life. And I don’t mean to discredit you, but Heron still finds it hard to acknowledge you as his biological father."

"I understand," Haran said quietly. "I don't expect him to see me that way. Agnus is his father. I'm just..." He trailed off, not sure how to finish.

"You're the man who saved his father's life," Malcolm said. "That means something. Maybe not what you hoped for, but it's a foundation. What you build on it is up to you."Haran nodded slowly.

"Then I should go see them."

"You should." Malcolm moved toward the door, then paused. "One more thing, Haran. Whatever you're filing in your reports, make sure the village stays out of it. We can't afford the church's scrutiny."

The evening air carried the scent of cooking fires and early summer flowers as Haran made his way through the village paths. Children's voices drifted from nearby houses, families settling in for the night. A few villagers nodded to him as he passed, their greetings polite but brief.

He noticed what Malcolm had described then. The way people's eyes followed him, calculating. When he passed the well, two women who'd been drawing water suddenly remembered tasks elsewhere, leaving their buckets half-filled. An older man, whom he recognized from previous visits, crossed to the other side of the path rather than pass too close.

Not hostile. Just careful.

And then he saw Martina, walking from the direction of the well with her water bucket. The path ahead of her cleared subtly. People were finding reasons to turn down side streets, to duck into doorways. She kept her head high, her steps steady, but Haran could see the cost in the set of her shoulders.

"Let me help," he said, stepping forward.

She looked at him, surprise flickering across her face. "You don't need to—"

"I know." He took the bucket anyway. "But I'm headed your way anyway."

They walked in silence for a moment. Then Martina said quietly, "Malcolm told you."

"Yes."

"It's not so bad," she said, though her voice lacked conviction.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." She glanced at him, and there was steel resolve in her eyes. "I'd make the same choice again. Agnus is alive. That's worth more than a few cold shoulders."

They reached the small house. The door stood open to catch the evening breeze, lamplight spilling across the threshold. Inside, Haran could see Agnus seated at the table, his cane leaning against the chair. And there, setting wooden bowls beside him, was Heron.

Heron had grown. His black hair fell past his ears now, and when he turned to say something to Agnus, Haran caught a glimpse of his profile. He looked like Loretta. He already had her eyes and jawline, but now he also had her wavy hair.

Martina touched Haran's arm gently. "Please come inside."

He followed her inside, setting the water bucket down near the hearth. Agnus looked up, and his weathered face broke into a genuine grin.

"Haran! I told Martina you'd stop by. Malcolm's meetings never take as long as he thinks they will." He gestured with his cane toward a chair. "Come and sit. Been wondering how things have been with you since the incident."

Heron stood silent, a bowl in his hands, with his dark eyes fixed on Haran.

"Heron," Agnus said gently. "You remember Haran."

"Yes." The boy set the bowl down carefully. His voice was level, neither warm nor cold. "Thank you for coming to help us when we needed it."

"Of course I would come," Haran said.

Heron studied him for a long moment, as if weighing something. Then he picked up another bowl. "Mama made stew. Please have some too."

It was an invitation, and that was more than Haran had expected.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

They ate as evening deepened outside. The conversation was careful at first. There was talk about the weather, the fields, and minor repairs needed around the village. But gradually it loosened. Agnus complained about his inability to help out. Martina asked about Haran's assignment and if there were any other villages in his circuit. And Heron, after long silence, began asking questions.

"Is Jamtara very different from here?" the boy asked, pushing pieces of potato around his bowl.

"Very," Haran said. "Larger. More people. Buildings made of brick and stone instead of wood."

"And they all use crystal technology?"

"Most of it. For lighting, heating, sewage, and machinery." Haran replied.

"And there is peace in the city, even with all that technology?"

It’s a weird question. Haran thought that after the serpent incident, Heron probably overheard the other villagers gossiping about Adel.

"No, no one is afraid of the crystal technology. Everyone understands that there can be risks, but also no technology is released to the public without rigorous testing and approval from the church."

"I overheard others talking about it being evil."

"Heron—" Agnus was going to say something, but he got interrupted by Haran.

"Heron, crystal technology will frighten those who have never used it. Anyone who hasn’t seen it firsthand will be afraid when they see an aura around the person who is interacting with the crystals. That is why there were many efforts made by citizens to have villagers at least grasp some understanding, with the hope one day it would be accepted throughout the federation."

"But Grampa Adel said it was dangerous," Heron said, his voice quieter now. "He told me stories about his father, who used crystals and lost himself."

The room went still. Agnus's hand tightened on his cane, and Martina paused at the hearth.

Haran chose his words carefully. "Adel wasn't wrong. Crystal use is dangerous, especially soul crystals or even the pure ones. However, there's a notable difference between the tainted crystals used in our cities' tools and what Adel witnessed."

"But his father died," Heron said.

"He did because he didn't understand what he was handling. Because there was no one to teach him the proper protocols." Haran met the boy's gaze directly. "That's why the cities have laws, testing, and the church's oversight. It's not perfect, but it's meant to prevent tragedies like what happened to Adel's family."

"And what about you?" Heron's voice was steady, but there was something sharp beneath it. "You have crystals in your body. Are you safe?"

Agnus shifted uncomfortably. "Heron, I think you asked enough."

"No, it's all right," Haran said. He set down his spoon, giving the question the weight it deserved. "The honest answer? I don't know. I try to be. I follow every protocol I know. But Adel was right to send me away when he did. I wasn't in control then."

"And now?"

"I am cured of the main illness." Haran's jaw tightened slightly. "But to get better, I had to pay. That is why I couldn't stay, Heron. Why I still can't. But one day will come and I’ll be freed from my service."

Heron absorbed this in silence, his expression unreadable. Then he returned to his stew, the conversation apparently finished for now.

But later, as Haran prepared to leave, the boy walked him to the door.

"Thank you," Heron said quietly. "For not lying to me. About the crystals. About why you left."

"You deserve the truth," Haran replied.

"Will you be around more now? Papa said you will visit us more often."

"Yes," Haran said. "If you want me to."

Heron nodded slowly. "I do. Papa could use the help. And I..." He trailed off, then finished, "I'd like to learn more. About where I came from. About you."

As Haran walked back toward the village gate, he found something had shifted in his chest. Not absolution, as he didn't deserve that. But the first step toward something that might, one day, resemble peace.