From the top of the hill, I could see them. Father and daughter. One standing still, the other dancing with his sword as if life were burning through his veins.
Emilia had grown up. She was no longer the curious little girl who asked me if she could fly if she ran fast enough. Now she was a whirlwind of strength and precision, her bare feet sunk into the earth like roots and her arms spinning with such fury that the wind seemed to obey her.
Fortz watched in silence. As he always did. But that afternoon something in him trembled. His lips moved without speaking, his hands opened and closed, as if he were debating whether to shout or collapse.
When she threw the spear with such force that it split a dry oak tree into thirty pieces, he stepped forward.
"Emilia!" he roared.
She stopped spinning, panting. She wiped the sweat from her forehead with her forearm without taking her eyes off him. It was the gaze of a warrior. She no longer looked up at him.
"What?"
"No more. Not today. Not like this."
"In what way?"
"As if you were one of those... soulless soldiers! As if the only thing that mattered was fighting!"
She approached him, the spear still in her hand.
"And isn't it? That's what you taught me! Not to cry! To resist! To fight for what I love!" She pointed at him.
"But now that I'm good at it... are you scared?"
"Because you don't know what comes with that strength! You don't know what it takes! Every cut you make... you'll carry with you until the day you die!"
There was a moment of silence. A whisper of wind, barely audible.
"And you'd rather I stay weak? That I hide?"
"I'd rather you live."
She lowered the spear. Her voice was a whisper of fire.
"I don't just want to live, Dad. I want to change the world you accepted. The one that killed Grandpa. I'll protect Mom, Luahn, everyone."
Fortz took a step toward her, but Emilia backed away.
"I've already chosen. You gave me a nest. But the wings... are mine."
He stopped. Something in his eyes broke. I approached cautiously. I felt that if I didn't, something was going to happen.
Suddenly a shadow came between them. It was Leyla.
"Fortz," she said, looking at him seriously.
"You won't be able to protect her forever. Believe me, I know exactly how you feel. She's my daughter, Fortz. I'd like nothing more than to stop her, but you know how she is. She's just as stubborn as you are. All we can do is support her, always be there for her."
He looked at her. And for the first time since I'd known him, I saw fear in his eyes.
Not for her.
For himself.
Because he couldn't stop her.
That night, Emilia slept at my house. She didn't eat. She didn't speak. And then, when Luahn fell asleep hugging her arm, I heard her cry for the first time in years.
*
Grisel returned one evening with mud up to her knees and a different look in her eyes. Something that had nothing to do with temples or duty. It was something else.
"My mother wants to meet you," she said suddenly.
"Your mother?"
"Melhe," she added, as if that explained everything.
And it did.
Melhe, the high priestess. Her name was spoken with care, as if invoking her were dangerous. Grisel brought her to my door one foggy morning, as if the will of the gods needed no announcement.
Melhe did not dress like the others. She wore a black tunic with sharp edges and carried a staff made of burnt glass. Her eyes, lighter than ash, pierced me as if searching for cracks.
"Is this the boy?" she said, without asking my permission.
Luahn peeked out from behind me. He did not run. He did not hide. He just looked at her.
She looked at him too. Longly.
"He doesn't shine as he should," she said quietly.
"But there is a silence in him... that disturbs me."
Grisel became nervous.
"Mother! He's just..."
"A mistake on the edge of the world," Melhe interrupted.
"What if mistakes are keys?" she murmured.
Luahn didn't understand. But he took Grisel's hand. And the young priestess smiled, a fragile smile, as if her soul had found a hiding place there.
Melhe spoke to me privately that night.
"The boy... is not lost. He's just off the map. Like an island no one has ever set foot on."
"Do you want to take him?"
"No. Not yet. I want to watch him. The Tree does not resonate with him... but something else could be awakening."
And in his tone... there was no threat. There was fear disguised as curiosity.
*
It was the most eagerly awaited day for the children of the clan. First Contact. The day when they would lay their hands on the Living Bark of the Tree and, if they were worthy, be able to manifest control over the elements.
Luahn walked alongside Emilia. She had already been marked since she was a child. She was only there to accompany him. Grisel was also there, trembling with excitement, as if it were her ceremony and not his.
One by one, the children approached. The vast majority of them shouted with joy when they felt the warm rush of energy. Others cried. The Tree responded.
When it was Luahn's turn, there was silence.
He placed his hands on the bark.
Nothing.
No glow.
No heat.
Not even rejection. Just... emptiness.
The murmurs began.
"Doesn't he feel anything?"
"Is he sick?"
"Is it because he's human?"
Grisel took a step forward, but Melhe stopped her with a slight gesture.
Luahn took a step back. He looked at me. And in his eyes there was no sadness. There was confusion.
"Did I do something wrong?"
I ran to him and hugged him.
"You didn't do anything wrong, son."
The other children laughed quietly. A woman muttered, "The bastard can't receive energy. He's not one of us."
That night, Luahn didn't speak. He only asked me:
"If the Tree doesn't choose me... will it never do so?"
"I've already chosen you. And others will too."
"What if it never shines?"
"Don't worry, it's only a matter of time."
And I rocked him. Clenching my teeth so he wouldn't see me cry.