**Age 10 — Three Days After Return**
The council chamber is colder than I remember.
We stand before them—Kaela, Lysara, and I—mud from the road still on our boots, exhaustion marking our faces. We've been awake for nearly thirty hours. The expedition was supposed to be a simple research mission. Instead, we returned with evidence that void corruption is following patterns, which means something is directing it deliberately.
Elder Stoneheart sits to the right. He nods slightly; approval or encouragement, I can't tell.
Elder Ironwood sits to the left. His expression is carefully neutral, but I can see the tension in his jaw.
Captain Felric stands at attention. Master Dren sits in the back, his arm in a sling from an injury he won't fully explain. His scarred face is unreadable, but I notice his left hand clenches and unclenches repeatedly.
"Your findings are... concerning," Elder Ironwood begins, his voice measured. "But your methods are what I wish to discuss."
Lysara steps forward. "With respect, Elder, the data we gathered—"
"Will be discussed in a moment," Ironwood interrupts smoothly. "First, I want to address the elephant in the chamber. You sent three children into active void corruption zones. Deliberately. Intentionally putting them in mortal danger."
Kaela stiffens. "We were—"
"We volunteered," I finish quietly.
"Of course you volunteered," Elder Moonstone interjects. She's new to the council; I don't know her well. "Children volunteer for all sorts of things that aren't wise. That's precisely why they shouldn't be allowed to lead dangerous expeditions."
"They were supervised," Felric says firmly. "And they completed the mission successfully."
"Did they?" Ironwood leans back in his chair. "Or did they encounter a problem they created through their own inexperience?"
The accusation hangs in the air. He's implying we caused the void corruption we witnessed.
"The corruption predates our arrival," Lysara states, her voice cutting. "The settlement patterns suggest the void phenomena have been progressing for weeks. Our timeline can be verified through—"
"I'm not questioning your observations, scholar," Ironwood says carefully. "I'm questioning the wisdom of sending a ten-year-old child with integrated curse magic into an active void zone."
He says "integrated curse magic" like it's a disease. Like the curse is separate from me, not part of me.
My hands clench into fists. Shadow energy flickers around my knuckles before I can control it. Kaela grabs my hand; steady and warm and reminding me to breathe.
"With respect," Master Dren's voice cuts through the tension like a blade, "these three performed at levels that would challenge most experienced scouts. Their tactical thinking, their magical coordination, their restraint in dangerous situations—all exceeded expectations."
"Of course you'd defend them," Elder Ironwood says. "You're the one training them to be soldiers instead of letting them be children."
Master Dren's scarred face doesn't change, but I see the tension in his shoulders. "I'm training them to survive. Because they will face threats whether we pretend otherwise or not."
"And that's precisely the problem," Elder Ironwood responds. "You're accelerating them toward adulthood. Toward conflict. Toward becoming weapons instead of people."
Silence.
The words land with weight. I realize this isn't really about the mission or our safety. This is about something deeper. This is about what I am. What I'm becoming.
"With respect," I hear myself say, "I volunteer for these missions. No one forces me."
Ironwood's eyes fix on me. They're not unkind, but they're assessing. Like he's weighing whether I'm a resource or a threat.
"Yes. You do volunteer. Because you've been shaped to believe that service is your duty. That fighting is your purpose." He pauses. "Tell me, Ren Amaki—if I told you tomorrow that I forbid further missions, that you should go home and study like a normal child, what would you do?"
I don't answer immediately. Because the honest answer is: I would be devastated. This mission is part of who I am. The curse has woven itself so thoroughly into my identity that separating it feels like self-amputation.
"That's what I thought," Ironwood says quietly.
**Later — The Halls**
Kaela intercepts me as I'm leaving the council chamber. Her amber eyes are blazing.
"He's wrong," she says immediately. "Everything he said is wrong. We *are* adults. We *are* ready."
"Are we?" I ask.
She looks shocked. "What?"
"He asked me what I'd do if they forbade me from fighting. And Kaela, I realized... I don't know if I'd accept that choice. I don't know if I'd be capable of choosing anything else. And he's asking if that's actually my choice or if it was made for me."
Kaela's anger shifts into something more uncertain. "You don't regret the mission?"
"No. But I'm not sure that means his concerns aren't valid."
"Since when do you listen to council elders who are afraid of you?"
"Since I realized maybe they have a point to be afraid of." I meet her eyes. "We saw something on that expedition, Kaela. Something that made me question whether I'm actually in control or if the curse is just really good at making me think I am."
Before Kaela can respond, Lysara appears from the shadows of the corridor.
"You're both catastrophizing," she announces. "Ironwood's argument is emotionally compelling but logically inconsistent. He can't simultaneously claim we're too dangerous to be in missions while claiming we're being manipulated. If we're in missions and we're dangerous, then the logical conclusion is we should continue because we're being productive with our danger."
"That's not reassuring," Kaela mutters.
"It's not meant to be reassuring. It's meant to be accurate." Lysara settles against the wall, and I notice she's tired. Genuinely tired. Not the normal exhaustion of mission, but something deeper. "But Elder Ironwood isn't interested in logic. He's interested in control."
"What do you mean?" I ask.
"He wants power over what happens in this village. He's not afraid of you because of what you might do. He's afraid of you because he can't control you. None of them can control you. Your power comes from the curse, not from the council's authorization. That threatens their authority."
Kaela absorbs this. "So what do we do?"
"We keep proving ourselves valuable," Lysara says. "We complete missions. We show results. We make them realize that forbidding us would create the exact instability they're trying to prevent."
"That's not a long-term solution," I point out.
"No," Lysara agrees. "But it's a solution for now. And now is all we have."
Kaela and Lysara exchange a look—something passes between them that I can't quite read. Understanding. Agreement. Something deeper than just tactical coordination.
"Come on," Kaela says, grabbing my hand again. "Let's get food. I'm exhausted and I need to pretend none of this is happening for a few hours."
**That Evening — The Healing House**
Miren is working late, as usual. Her hands move with practiced precision as she catalogs medicinal supplies. She doesn't look up when I enter, but she acknowledges me.
"You fought with your father again."
"How did you—"
"He came here furious. Told me he forbids me from letting you go on any more expeditions. Then he realized I'm not the one stopping you, and he left even more furious." She finally looks at me. "He's scared, Ren."
"I know."
"Not scared of the void. Scared of losing you." She sets down her supplies. "When you were born, your father had such dreams for you. A normal life. A normal son. Teaching you to farm, or craft, or trade. Something safe. Something that wouldn't change."
"But I was always going to be this," I say quietly. "The curse was always inside me."
"We didn't know that then. We hoped you'd grow out of it. That it was something that would fade." She sits, gesturing for me to do the same. "Then we learned it wasn't. That it would only grow. That you'd become something other than human. And your father has been grieving that ever since."
"So I should just... stop? Stop training, stop fighting, stop using the curse?"
"No." Miren takes my hand. "But I think your father needs you to understand that his grief isn't about anger. It's about loss. He's losing the son he imagined and gaining someone he doesn't fully understand. That's hard. That's worth acknowledging."
I look at our intertwined hands—hers warm and ordinary, mine already showing faint shadows beneath the skin. The curse is visible now. It's becoming harder to hide.
"I don't know how to not be this," I admit.
"I know. That's what makes this hard for all of us."
**Night — The Rooftop**
Kaela finds me on our usual spot, watching the ley lines pulse overhead. She doesn't ask permission; just sits beside me, close enough that our shoulders touch.
"I talked to Lysara," she says after a long moment.
"About what?"
"About Ironwood. About control. About whether we're choosing this or whether we're being pushed." She pauses. "She's scared too. She just hides it better than you."
"I'm not scared."
"Yes, you are. You're terrified. You've just gotten better at living with it." Kaela turns to face me. "Do you know what Lysara said?"
"What?"
"She said that fear is normal. That the question isn't whether we're scared, but whether we're scared for the right reasons. She said we should be scared of losing ourselves. And we're not. We're still us. Still choosing. That matters."
I want to believe her. The problem is, I'm not entirely sure we are still choosing. I'm not entirely sure where my will ends and the curse's hunger begins.
"What if she's wrong?" I ask. "What if we're just really good at lying to ourselves?"
"Then we're lying together. All three of us." Kaela reaches over and takes my hand. "And I'm okay with that. Because together, even if we're wrong, at least we're wrong together."
Lysara appears, climbing onto the roof with the grace she's developed over years of sneaking around. She sits on my other side, close enough that I'm cradled between them.
"I've been analyzing the data from our expedition," she announces, defaulting to her research as comfort. "And I've reached a conclusion."
"What's that?" I ask.
"The void corruption pattern is showing mathematical consistency. Which means it's not random. Which means either it's directed by intelligence, or it's following some kind of natural law we don't understand yet." She pauses. "Either way, continuing to study it is the only way to understand it."
"That's not actually reassuring," Kaela mutters.
"It's not meant to be. It's meant to be true." But then Lysara reaches over and takes my other hand, and her voice softens. "And it means we're necessary. Whatever Elder Ironwood fears, the fact is that we're the only ones positioned to understand this threat. That gives us purpose. That makes our choices real."
The three of us sit together under the stars, hands intertwined, watching ley lines pulse with ancient power.
Below us, the village settles into sleep. The council chambers go dark. The fears and politics fade into night.
And for this moment, at least, we're just three children trying to make sense of a world that's become far too complex.
"Whatever comes next," Kaela says quietly, "we face it together."
"Together," Lysara echoes, and her hand squeezes mine.
I don't speak. But I hold their hands a little tighter, and that feels like enough of an answer.