Haugstad, Kingdom of Divinium, Eastern region of Rohana Federation, 13th day 2044 S.C.
"You have some nerve coming back. You could have at least some decency in writing back if you couldn't have come."
Agnus hissed at Haran as they sat at the same table at the tavern where they spoke last.
"I'm sincerely sorry, Agnus. I was not in town, so I couldn't receive any mail. Once I saw all the letters, I jumped onto the snowcycle and drove here as fast as I could."
"Well, it's not me you have explaining to do. Heron heard all about you. It was a rough time explaining it all to the boy. And then you disappeared and made everything worse."
"What was his reaction?"
"At first, he didn't believe it, obviously. He doesn't remember you since you left him as a baby. He does remember you coming over and helping out the village. But, even with that, he is angry that you neglected him all these cycles. And I don't blame him. I honored Adel's request and didn't hide the truth from the boy, but I'm not going to be the one to defend you. If the boy says after hearing you out that he doesn't want to do anything with you, I want you to respect that. Understood?"
"Yes, thank you. I expect nothing from either you or Martina. You've done enough. This is all my fault. I'm trying to latch on to a life I can't have. It was a mistake telling Heron anything."
Agnus scratched his head, still annoyed at Haran. He then took a sip of hot mead.
"So, care to share where you went off to?"
"I think for your safety, it is best that you don't know," Haran replied coldly.
"Well, if that is how you are going to go about it, I wouldn't even talk to the boy if I were you. He'll get over it in time." Agnus said snarkily.
"Agnus, I am going to be upfront with you. I want to speak to Heron to say goodbye. Things I'm involved in are getting dangerous, and I fear that my presence may put everyone in danger."
"So I am just supposed to accept this and let you talk to him?"
"Agnus, please," Haran pleaded. "I don't wish to argue with you. You have the right to hate me afterwards. Please consider this my final request. To straighten things out with my son."
Agnus slowly set down his mug. For a long moment, he said nothing, his teeth grinding. Finally, he exhaled.
"Fine. But Haran, understand this - if you hurt that boy worse than you already have, Adel's memory won't protect you. Not from me."
"I understand."
They left the tavern in silence. The village paths were quiet in the late afternoon as most families were already indoors preparing evening meals.
Agnus and Martina's cabin sat near the village center. Smoke curled from the chimney, and through the small window, he could see lamplight warming the interior. Agnus paused at the door.
"Remember, he is disappointed, and that he is also eight, Haran. Don't take it to heart if he doesn't understand what you are trying to explain."
Before Haran could respond, Agnus opened the door.
The interior was warm as fire crackled in the hearth. Wooden toys sat in a corner beside a small training sword. And at the table sat Martina, her dark skin catching the firelight, her expression unreadable as she looked up at Haran. Beside her, gripping the edge of his chair, was Heron.
"Heron," Martina said softly, "your father is here."
The boy said nothing.
Haran remained by the door, suddenly aware of how large he was in this space, how out of place. "May I sit?"
Martina gestured to the chair across from Heron. Haran sat slowly, and Agnus moved to stand beside Martina.
"Hello, Heron," Haran began, sounding rougher than he intended. "I... Thank you for agreeing to see me."
Finally, Heron looked up. His black eyes met Haran's with an intensity that lit up tension in the room.
"Mama said you're my real father. That you left me when I was a baby."
The directness of it stole Haran's breath. "Yes. Both of those things are true."
"Why?"
Such a simple question. Haran started to grapple with the guilt.
"Because I had to. Situation was dangerous, and I couldn't…" Haran stopped seeing Heron's looks unmoved. "Heron, I left because I love you. I know that doesn't make sense…"
"It doesn't." Heron's voice was small but steady. "If you loved me, you'd stay. My father Agnus loves me, and he stays. Mama Martina loves me, and she stays. Grampa Adel loved me, and he stayed until... until he couldn't anymore."
Haran's throat tightened.
"If I could have stayed, I would have. Heron, I was ill and the only hope for me was to be cured by the doctors in the city. If I stayed here, then my illness would hurt everyone you love. And for the cure, I had to pay a price. I was willing to pay it, as that was the only way I was going to get to see you again."
Heron's brow furrowed, trying to make sense of it. "But you're better now. The doctors fixed you. So why can't you stay?"
The question was so innocent, so logical from a child's perspective, that Haran felt something crack inside him.
"The price I paid," Haran said slowly, choosing each word with care, "was that I have to work for the church. For a long time. Maybe forever. And that work takes me far from here. To dangerous places."
"Then don't go to dangerous places," Heron said, as if it were that simple.
"I wish I could choose," Haran said quietly. "But I can't."
Heron looked down at the table. "Mama said you wanted to say goodbye. That you're leaving and not coming back."
"Yes," Haran said, the word like swallowing broken glass.
"Then, you should just go. Thank you for helping out the village. I saw you a few times bringing supplies and talking to grandpa and Malcolm."
Heron wasn't angry; he was done. To him, Haran was a benefactor to the village, not a father.
Haran opened his mouth, then closed it. What could he say? Was there any point in saying anything else? There was nothing he thought at the moment that would turn Heron's feelings around.
"Heron," Martina said softly, her voice thick with emotion she was barely containing. "Your father came a long way…"
"It's all right," Haran interrupted, rising from his chair. His legs felt unsteady. "He's right. I should go."
He looked at Martina and Agnus. "Thank you. For everything you've done for him. For giving him what I couldn't."
Martina nodded, not trusting her voice. Agnus's jaw was tight with an unreadable expression.
Haran turned back to Heron one last time. The boy was still staring at the table, small hands gripping its edge. He wanted to reach out, to touch his son's shoulder, to say something that would matter. But he'd already said everything he could.
"Goodbye, Heron," Haran said quietly.
Agnus followed Haran to the door, closing it softly behind them. They stood outside in the cooling evening air, the crosses above beginning their faint twilight pulse.
"That went as well as could be expected," Agnus said, though there was no satisfaction in his voice.
"Did it?" Haran asked hollowly.
"You told him the truth. What he does with it is up to him now." Agnus paused. "You really not coming back?"
Haran looked toward the darkening sky. "I want to believe staying away is right. That it'll keep him safe."
"And if you're wrong?"
"Then I'll have failed him twice." Haran started walking toward the village gates. "I may send supplies by the couriers from time to time. As for myself, I think it is for the best that I am away for a while… a long while."
"Safe travels, Haran." It was all Agnus could muster.
Haran sat on his snowmobile and rode off to Jamtara, once again leaving his son behind.