"Boys," Rasir said quietly, his voice steady but his eyes anything but, "this is my daughter. Mina."
For a moment, no one spoke.
Mina's gaze had been fixed on Arin from the instant the door opened, sharp, tired, unreadable. Not curious. Not hostile. Just… observant, as if she were measuring him against something only she could see.
Then she looked away.
Her eyes moved to Raul. To Victor. Lingering on each of them for a second longer than comfort allowed. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft, detached, carrying no warmth and no malice.
"Hello," she said. "I'm Mina."
There was no smile. No nervousness. Just a statement of existence.
Raul straightened instinctively, combat sense prickling despite the calm setting. Victor felt it too, the faint, oppressive presence clinging to her like cold air around a grave, but neither of them reached for a weapon. Not yet.
"Ah—hello," Victor replied first, scratching the back of his head. "I'm Victor. This is Raul. And that's Arin."
Raul nodded. "Nice to meet you."
Arin inclined his head slightly. "It's a pleasure."
Mina acknowledged them with a small nod of her own, then stepped aside to let them enter. The hut's interior was simple but clean. A single lamp burned low on a wooden table, casting long shadows against the walls. The air smelled faintly of herbs and old paper, not decay, another small contradiction.
They talked.
Nothing important. Nothing dangerous.
The weather. The heat. The fact that travelers were rare. Mina answered when spoken to, her responses short but polite. Rasir tried to fill the silences, his voice a little too eager, as though afraid that if he stopped talking, the room might collapse into something heavier.
Arin watched quietly.
Mina didn't fidget. Didn't look at the ground. Didn't show discomfort at the presence of strangers. But she also didn't relax. It was the posture of someone used to being observed, judged, and kept at a distance.
After a while, the conversation thinned naturally, like a fire burning down to embers.
Rasir cleared his throat. "It's getting late," he said gently. "You should rest, Mina."
She nodded once. "Goodnight, father."
Her eyes flicked briefly toward Arin again, just a fraction of a second, before she stepped back into the hut and closed the door.
The sound was soft.
But final.
Outside, the night air felt heavier.
They walked in silence for a while, the glow of the village lanterns coming into sight. The wind carried sand across the ground in soft, whispering trails.
Victor was the first to break the silence.
"Sir," he said carefully, "your daughter… why is she—"
Rasir sighed.
It wasn't loud. It wasn't dramatic. Just the sound of a man who had carried the same weight for years and had learned there was no setting it down gently.
"Well," he said, rubbing his hands together, eyes fixed ahead, "where should I start…"
He walked a few more steps before continuing.
"You probably felt it. The aura around her." He gave a bitter smile. "We don't know exactly what her Core Talent is. Only that it's… tied to death. Closely."
Raul's jaw tightened slightly.
"She only ever told her mother about it," Rasir continued. "But she fell ill not long after that. And she…" His voice faltered, just for a moment. "She died not long after Mina awakened."
Silence swallowed the path.
"Even before she passed," Rasir said, quieter now, "my wife never told me what Mina's talent was. Maybe she wanted to protect her. Maybe she was afraid. I don't know."
He exhaled slowly.
"The villagers noticed changes. Animals avoiding her. Crops near the hut wilting faster. People feeling… uneasy when she passed by." His hands clenched. "They called her cursed. Said death followed her."
Victor muttered under his breath, "That's stupid..."
Rasir didn't correct him.
"They protested," he went on. "Demanded she be sent away. Exiled. Some even suggested worse."
Arin felt something cold settle in his chest.
"I argued," Rasir said. "I begged. I threatened. But I am the village head, and I have a duty to protect everyone. In the end…" He stopped walking. "This was the only compromise I could reach."
He turned back toward the eastern edge of the village.
"She lives apart. Close enough that I can watch over her. Far enough that the villagers feel safe." His voice cracked. "A coward's solution, perhaps. But it was that, or lose her entirely."
No one spoke.
They didn't need to.
They resumed walking.
After a long stretch of silence, Arin finally spoke.
"Sir Rasir," he said calmly, "if you don't mind… may I visit her sometimes?"
Rasir stopped so abruptly that the others nearly walked into him.
He turned, eyes wide, then brightened with something dangerously close to hope.
"You would?" he asked. "Really?"
Arin nodded. "If she allows it."
Rasir laughed, a short, surprised sound. "She doesn't get many visitors. Of course, you may." Then he paused, expression shifting. "…but not after sunset."
Arin blinked. "Sir?"
Rasir looked at him flatly.
Arin reacted instantly. "No—no, sir, that's not what I meant. I swear."
Rasir raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Then how did you know exactly what I was thinking, brat?"
Raul snorted.
Victor lost it.
The laughter came suddenly, sharp and uncontrollable, breaking the tension like glass. Raul bent over, clutching his stomach. Victor wiped tears from his eyes.
Rasir shook his head, exasperated. "You brats find this funny?"
"Yes, sir," Victor said between laughs.
"Want an ass-whooping?" Rasir growled. "Go. All of you. Back to your hut."
The response was instant.
"Yes, sir!"
They turned and ran, boots kicking sand, laughter trailing behind them as they disappeared into the dim paths of the village.
Rasir watched them go.
Then he looked back toward the eastern edge of the village, where a single light still burned.
For the first time in a long while, the weight on his chest felt… slightly lighter.