CHAPTER 2 — THE DAY EVERYTHING BROKE
---
"What the hell…"
The words slipped from Harold's lips like a breath he didn't mean to release.
The breeze rustled through the newspaper pages.
The tea steam drifted into the air and vanished.
And for that one suspended moment, the whole world fell silent around them.
Rowan leaned closer.
"Papa… what happened?"
But Harold didn't answer.
His eyes were locked on the paper, unmoving, unblinking—like the headline had frozen him from the inside.
"Papa?" Rowan shook his shoulder gently.
The man finally snapped out of it.
He blinked, forced a stiff smile, and whispered, "It's nothing, son… Let's go."
Before Rowan could say anything, Harold grabbed his wrist and began walking—fast, tense, almost dragging him along the dusty road.
The tea seller frowned, calling after them,
"Harold! What happened? Harold!"
But Harold didn't stop.
Didn't turn.
Didn't answer.
Rowan could feel it.
People staring.
Not the usual friendly gazes or curious nods.
This time…
Cold.
Judgmental.
Whispering.
Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
They reached home in a hurry.
Tud. Tud. Tud.
Harold knocked rapidly—three, four times—until Mira opened the door with a relieved smile.
"You two returned so early?" she said lightly.
But Harold didn't reply.
He stepped past her and shut the door hard, locking it.
Mira's smile faded. "Dear… what happened?"
He didn't speak.
He handed her the newspaper, fingers trembling, and pointed to the second page.
Mira's eyes softened at the photograph.
"Oh! Isn't this Arden?"
Her smile widened with motherly pride. "He's in the news—"
"Read," Harold whispered.
She looked at him… then at the article.
Her expression shifted instantly.
Her lips parted.
Her breath caught.
A single drop of sweat slid down her temple.
> "Student turned heretic.
A student of the Grand Aetherion Academy has been declared a heretic and is said to be involved in the assassination of a council member.
Report immediately if sighted.
Bounty: 1,000 gold coins."
Her hands trembled as she lowered the paper.
"Dear… what is this?" her voice cracked.
Rowan stood between them, confused and frightened.
"What's wrong? Why are you two acting like this?"
Harold placed a hand on his son's shoulder and inhaled.
"Rowan… there is something—"
Knock. Knock.
The three of them froze.
Harold slowly approached the door and opened it.
A man from the town council stood outside, stiff-faced and grim.
His voice rang sternly.
"Harold, the panchayat has issued a summon for you."
He extended a sealed parchment.
Harold took it silently. "Understood."
As he stepped forward to go with the man, Mira called after him.
"Wait—dear."
Harold paused.
Mira placed both hands gently on Rowan's shoulders.
"Stay home, Rowan. We will return after the panchayat meeting… alright?"
Rowan nodded, still confused, still scared.
His parents stepped outside.
The door closed.
And Rowan was alone.
---
THE PANCHAYAT
The village center was packed.
People crowded around the circular pavilion, buzzing with whispers and fear.
At the front sat the sarpanch, old and solemn.
Beside him, the panch members formed a curved row, holding the same newspaper.
One of them stood, lifting the page high.
"Harold," he said, voice sharp. "What is this? Your son has been declared a heretic!"
Harold lowered his head.
"I… I know nothing of this. I learned of it today. From the same paper you hold."
The panch members exchanged heavy glances.
Another panch spoke, voice grim.
"You know the law.
When one member of a family becomes a heretic…"
Harold nodded slowly.
"Yes. I know."
Silence.
All eyes turned to the sarpanch.
The old man closed his eyes for a long moment—then opened them with sorrow.
"According to the laws set by the Mage Council… any family with a heretic among them must be banished from our society."
Mira inhaled sharply.
Harold clenched his fists.
The sarpanch met Harold's eyes.
"I'm sorry, Harold… but from this moment—
you and your family are banished from the town."
---
The house felt different now.
Quieter.
Colder.
Rowan sat on a small wooden bench, gripping the newspaper so tightly his knuckles went white.
He reread the headline again.
And again.
And again.
Bhaiya… a murderer?
No… no, that can't be real…
His chest tightened.
Just then—the door creaked open.
His parents entered quietly.
No words.
No explanations.
His mother walked past him, straight into the bedroom, and began packing clothes, blankets—anything she could reach.
Rowan stood.
"What happened?" he whispered.
Harold shut the door behind him.
The latch clicked like a hammer striking.
He walked to Rowan with slow, heavy steps.
Placed both hands on his son's shoulders.
"Rowan…"
His voice tried to be gentle.
Tried to be strong.
But it trembled.
"We're just going on… a small journey. You like travelling, don't you?"
The lie was obvious.
Painfully obvious.
Rowan lifted the newspaper with shaking fingers.
"Papa… please. Tell me the truth."
Harold stared at the page.
Then at Rowan's trembling hands.
His expression broke.
His shoulders fell as if twenty years of weight collapsed on them at once.
"…We've been banished, Rowan."
The words weren't loud.
They didn't need to be.
They shattered the room.
"We must leave the town."
Harold lowered his head, shame burning through his posture.
He expected Rowan to cry.
To scream.
To break.
But when he looked up—
He saw Rowan smiling.
Small.
Shaky.
But trying to comfort him.
Harold felt something inside him crack.
He pulled his son into a tight embrace.
Rowan hugged back fiercely, burying his face against his father's chest—the scent of wood and earth, the smell of home.
Mira approached, wiping tears quietly.
"I've packed everything," she whispered. "Let's go."
---
They stepped out of the house together.
Hand in hand.
Neighbors lined the dusty road.
People Rowan had known his whole life.
Those who once smiled at him.
Shared sweets.
Helped carry logs.
Waved at his parents during festivals.
Now—they pulled their children away.
Turned their backs.
Whispered behind palms.
Rowan looked up at his father.
Harold The lumberjack, the man who always walked proud, always met people's eyes—
Now walked with his head down.
As if the shame itself weighed on his spine.
Rowan's chest tightened painfully.
No…
Not like this.
Never like this.
He just couldn't understand why. Why did this is suddenly happening to them. Just what happened. What went wrong. What happened to his brother for things to suddenly take such an unexpected turn.
He turned back and looked one last time at their house—the only home he'd ever known.
The place where he had made memories with his family, the place where he thought he would spend all his life. Now he was leaving that place.
Rowan looked at the wooden house for a long time.
Then he turned forward.
Gripped his parents' hands tighter.
And together, they crossed the town boundary.
Banished.
Alone.
Walking into a future none of them could see.
But somewhere deep inside Rowan—
a storm had begun to form.
---
CHAPTER END