**Few years had passed since the attack on the family**

The room was large, adorned with lavish furniture, Behind a grand desk, a small man sat on his chair, encircled by a gathering of standing men and women. Among them, a man's voice rose above the others, filled with frustration, anger, and a glimmer of hope, directed at the village chief.
"Monsters have been assaulting our village with increasing frequency ever since the child was born. Our brethren can feel the sinister energy growing stronger within our midst! Instead of facing punishment, they are choosing to flee, leaving behind the houses that you’re have paying for!"

The village chief let out a heavy sigh, the weight of frustration and years of struggle evident in his tired voice. "Enough of your incessant babbling! We have given them what they wanted, and now they are packing up and leaving. There is nothing more I can do."

Amidst the tension, a cry for vengeance filled the room. "It's not enough! The boy must die! We should banish the family to the outlands!"

“The village chief's patience waned as he responded, "You keep coming here, repeating your nonsense. Do you think our small village stands a chance against a noble military clan like the Blackmane? Even the king would hesitate to intervene! A matter of fact even your LEADERS chose to stay their hands"

The mention of Valentina's name loomed over the room, for everyone knew she possessed more power and political influence than anyone in the village.

The priest of Valgus was well aware of the situation, as they had received instructions from their headquarters to remain low and await an opportunity. Engaging in an all-out war with the Blackmanes was not a desirable outcome. They clenched their fists, feeling the weight of their losses over the years, with no one standing up for them.

"Now leave, I have done all I can for Valgus," the village chief stated, his voice filled with resignation. In the past years, the villagers had frequently approached him, demanding the family's demise, punishment, or any resolution to quell their anger. However, he understood that as long as Valentina stood behind the family, they were not to be underestimated.

-Why has such a being come to our humble village? She was meant to be a blessing, not a curse,- the village chief thought with frustration. He gazed out the window, contemplating how everything had come to this point. The village, once a peaceful community, was now divided by feuding families, tearing apart the harmony they once cherished.

Friends and families had gathered behind Zac and Bella, leaving together with them. The departure of a significant portion of their population was the result of these misguided individuals who believed an innocent child was the spawn of some sort of evil.

Breathing out heavily, the village chief realized that they had already found and purchased new homes in the larger city, where they would be closer to one another. Mixed emotions overwhelmed him as he grappled with the aftermath of their departure.

-Should I pack my belongings and leave with the sensible people?- he wondered, his tired eyes reflecting the sleepless nights spent persuading good and hardworking individuals to leave. Numerous challenges loomed ahead, as he contemplated how to gather new resources without the skilled woodworking men who were leaving with Zac and Bella. Despite his efforts to convince a few to stay, they remained united in their decision.

- I wish I could go back in time and read more into this before I made a choice-

It was too late, and he knew it. He thought he could speak with Zac and have only one or two families follow them, not these many.

With the frustration building up, he slammed his hand against the desk, a big thud could be heard from the outside of the room.

“Quick come!”

A few seconds passed, and a tall women in her 30’s appeared, with long brown hair, dressed in basic common clothes.

“You called for me sir” she replied

“How much coin do we have left after buying back all the houses from the families? “ he said.

“around 10 gold coins sir” in a monotone voice she replied.

With a fragile, tone, he tried to see a path for this village.
“So our coffers are almost empty, so much for expanding and building a prosperous city. “ he sunked into his chair almost in defeat.

with uncertainty she replied.
“Sir we could still sell the houses we bought from those who left”  she replied, trying to lift his spirit.

“And who’s going to buy those? You think 30 vacant houses is something that will be filled within a year? We’re a small village with most of our woodworkers leaving, with 2 of our mages! We’re a dying village”. He replied fervently

“Sir there’s always going to be war or refugees, it might not be a year or two, but eventually we will fill them” she said

Sighing he knew it would take years, maybe more people would leave.  

“Did we do the right thing? “ he asked

“Sir, it was Valgus or the family, and we have more people of Valgus than the family. We please one person, who might bring doom on us, or an angry mob. We’re lucky that Valentina and the Blackmane clan are a such strong deterrent for violence, else we would had a people fighting each other on the streets” she tried to make sense of the situation they had argued about over the past years.

“Your maybe right Jean… we did what we could, hopefully this won’t come back and bite us.”
“I don’t think so sir, the families have been very understanding, we even gave them a better price for their homes than market price.”

“Jean, money has no value to some people, if you force them to leave they will have a grudge.” He stated.

“If you say so sir.” She replied

“You’re dismissed go back home for today.”

He went to a cabin and brought out a glass and a flask of liquor.
In the past he had wondered if the kid really was demonic or whatever they called it, why else would they be so varmint about the kid.

----------------------------------------------------------------

Late into the night, the room fell into darkness, with the curtains drawn and only a faint glow emanating from a few scattered books on the floor. In the center of the room sat a motionless boy, no older than five years, surrounded by a soft blue light that illuminated the space.

"Father, Grandfathers, anyone, can you hear me?" he called out in a whisper, but his words echoed unanswered. For weeks he had attempted to establish a connection, yet the outcome remained the same.

How had the bond with his ancestors been severed? He sat there, deep in thought. -I must return to the vault and speak with them directly,- he resolved.

"Sev," he whispered.

As if a vile concoction of tar and smoke, it surged forth from the walls, devouring any trace of light. The room's walls transformed into a gateway to an abyss, an endless void. A grotesque figure materialized before the boy, a writhing mass of thousands of eyes, arms, and legs. It contorted itself, pressing against the ground with a sickening force.

Speaking in a voice that stifled all sound, it whispered, an unsettling silence enveloping the room.

“Weeee….. sssseerveeeeee….. and obeeey..” the figure murmured in its silent voice, the words writhing with darkness.

Without displaying any emotion, the boy responded, "Have you fulfilled your task?"

It's voice was deep and raspy, every word it pronounce made the room a little bit darker and colder.

“Yesssss… Massster…….”

“Good. Were you observed by anyone? the boy inquired.

“Nooo, masssster….. “

“Is there anything else to report?” he pressed further.

“Yesss… Masssssterr.. thee.. villageeee leadeeeer, isssss cominnggg.. soooon. Theeeeey areeee pusssheed, byyy yourrrr enemiessssss, ttoooo maaakeeeee yoooouuuu leaveeeeee”

“"That's of no concern. We were already planning our departure. Also Additionally, it appears Zac has acquired a new residence in the bustling city, effectively removing our presence from these individuals. However, should they persist in pursuing us, we shall show them no mercy," the boy declared with determination.

“Maaasteer  Theesseee veermin, haaaveeee bbbeeeen tttoooo looonnnng disssreeesssspeeeeectful  ” the figure uttered.

"I have already given my command. I will not repeat myself. We already attract excessive attention. We don't require an entire village losing countless lives," he declared sternly.

“Maaasssterrrrr…. weeeee seeeerve.. aaaannnd ooobeeeey…...” the figure acknowledged.

“Any news of your siblings? “

“nooo, maaaasteeeer, I caaaaan feeeeel theeeeem, aaaaliiveeee. “

“Very well, return to my mother's side and protect her from any harm.”

“Yoooourrr wissssh…. Issss.. oooourrr…. Commaaaannnd…….”

With a flick of his hand, the books gracefully levitated back to the shelf, returning to their rightful places.

In this small village, there was a minuscule library that he had previously visited with his mother, borrowing a couple of books. However, the sight of a young toddler energetically exploring the books could be a bit strange, and thus he patiently awaited the right time.

The door to his room swung open.

Swiftly, he settled himself on the floor, assuming the guise of slumber.
"Darian, I know you're awake. I could feel you playin' with magic. Quit lyin' on the floor and go back to your bed. It's late at night," his mother's voice called out. Since the incident, his mother seemed to have developed some sort of sense when he was castin' magic nearby.

He felt a pang of shame.
-Why do I conceal my wakefulness?-
Regaining his composure, he sat upright, meeting his mother's gaze.
“Forgive me, Mother. I endeavored to spare you unnecessary concern," he confessed.

"I told you to call me 'Mom'!" she exclaimed. As she gazed into her son's eyes, so large and yet filled with profound depths, she continued, "If you persist in this behavior, I may have you sleep between your father and me, alright?"

Trying to envision such an arrangement, he felt a sense of injustice. After all, he was an adult older than the combined age of all the villagers.

“Yes, Mother. I shall endeavor not to stay up late again “ He replied.
“Good. Now, off to bed with you. You've got a big day ahead, accompanying your father to the forest tomorrow. “she added, her tone filled with motherly concern.
"Yes, Mother. I shall faithfully accompany Father," he affirmed

                                              -----------------------------------

With the morning dew glistening and the forest shrouded in a thin mist, the sunlight pierced through the chilly morning. Winter had passed, and summer was making its way.

“You brought your little squirt with you today!” a tall jovial man remarked with a hint of laughter in his voice. "They ought to learn the value of hard work from a young age, or else they'll turn out spoiled," another burly man chimed in with his opinion.
One of the woodworkers knelt down and addressed Darian
"Well, hello there, little soldier! How old might you be?" his voice taking on a playful tone.

"Greetings. It's my pleasure to meet all of you and have the opportunity to witness your craftsmanship. I am grateful. I turned five years old this year," Darian replied with gratitude, offering a bow.

"Well, I'll be damned. Call me crazy, but is he truly just five? Zac, what have you been teaching your kid?" a man with a large scar on his back exclaimed.

"Is it true that your son is a mage?" another inquisitive voice chimed in.

Zac, looked down at his son. Few people had seen his son, less his magic. They had tried to lay low after the incident, but these things were impossible in a small village.

"Yes, he awakened his abilities two years ago. Valentina believes it may be linked to Bella," Zac explained.

"Could he perhaps show us some magic?" one of the woodworkers asked, a genuine curiosity shining in their eyes.

Zac and Bella didn't want their son to become a mere spectacle, but these were his closest friends, and their request came from a place of sincerity. Nevertheless, he wouldn't force his son to do anything he didn't want to.

"Son, would you mind showing them a little magic?" Zac requested, looking down at Darian.

Darian met his father's gaze. He seldom asked for favours, especially for himself. With a composed expression and his responses often brief, he replied, "Yes, Father. It would be an honour."

In an instant, a small cyclone began to hover over Darian's hand. He allowed it to spin for a few seconds before tossing it into the air, where it twirled and swirled for a brief but captivating moment.

“Could you like, cut down a tree?” someone asked.

With the will of his mind, the wind obeyed. An invisible arc shot forth, slicing through a large tree positioned just a few steps away. The clean cut from the base caused the tree to fall at a safe distance. As it made contact with the ground, the earth beneath it seemed to ripple and bubble, as if a wave of water passed beneath the surface. The fallen tree was then carefully placed among the other logs, and all its branches were neatly severed.
 
A whistle of astonishment echoed through the air. "That's mighty useful, Zac! You ought to bring your son along more often. He could probably handle the work for all of us!" someone jestingly remarked, prompting laughter among the woodworkers.

"Is every mage this strong?" another person pondered aloud, their voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and admiration

While the comment was made in jest, a few others agreed, acknowledging the well-known versatility and strength of mages. The notion of encountering a five-year-old mage was unprecedented in their lives. Yet, their understanding of mages remained limited.

Uncertain of his place within his father's workplace, Darian stood silently, observing the reactions around him.

“Thank you Darian” He smiled at his son proudly.

Darian nodded at his father’s reply.
“It was my pleasure, father”

“"Alright, lads, enough of the teasing. Back to work, we've got plenty of felling to finish before we call it a day”, The boss urged.

***

"There have been more snags lately, boss. I think we shouldn't venture this far into the forest," one of the woodworkers expressed his concern.

"Yeah, the vegetation here is too dense. The sun hardly reaches these parts, and the beasts prowl more frequently in these areas," another man added.

"We've got a mage kid with us today! We'll be safe!" someone jokingly remarked, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

"I knew you were a coward, hiding behind a kid," another voice chimed in, playfully teasing.

Despite their banter, the group of men seemed to be a cheerful bunch, always sharing laughter.

"I'm just stating the fact! Do you think you could survive one of those wind blasts he conjured?" another woodworker retorte.

As if an omen of foreboding, the forest fell eerily silent. The birds ceased their chirping, and even the wind seemed to hold its breath. Laughter turned to silence, and a solemn hush fell over the group.

"Everyone, grab your nearest log and return. Remember what we've practiced," the boss commanded in a serious, subdued voice.

In swift and coordinated movements, everyone assumed their positions, prepared to make their way back.

"We're heading back for today," the boss announced, the gravity of the situation hanging in the air.

Silence permeated the group as they made their way back to the village. The forest held dangers that surpassed ordinary creatures, with beasts that had grown stronger than their natural counterparts. Some animals had transformed into menacing beasts, even taking on magical qualities.

Their return to the village was uneventful, Gandor, a man bearing a prominent scar on his face, approached Zac.

"Zac, before you leave, we've found a house not too far from everyone. So, we're ready," Gandor informed him.

"Good. I believe that makes everyone then. We'll depart as soon as the weather permits for a smoother journey. Thank you, brother, for joining us," Zac expressed his gratitude.

"I would never stay behind with these folks. I go where my brothers and family go," Gandor affirmed.

"Spread the word that we'll be having a meeting at my house over the weekend," Zac instructed.

With a heartfelt embrace, they bid farewell. Zac had tried to persuade the villagers to remain and spare themselves the hardships of the arduous journey, but they insisted on standing united.

*************

A cry could be heard emanating from inside the building.

"It seems like your little brother is awake. We need to help your mother,"

"Yes, Father," Darian responded

In the cozy living chamber, Bella sat upon a cushioned bench, cradling a newborn babe in her arms. The flickering firelight cast dancing shadows upon the walls as Bella gently rocked the child, murmuring soothing words to ease its distress.

“We’re back, but it seems like you got everything under control, dear. “Zac greeted his wife.

"Welcome back. He just woke up, and I was about to take a bath. Could you look after Delone for a while?" Bella requested

With a few steps closer to his wife, Zac embraced her, planting a tender kiss on her cheek. "Go take your bath. I'll take care of our little devil."

Before heading to the bath, Bella kneeled down and hugged Darian, her eldest son.

"He's so different from you, Darian. I often wondered if other parents were exaggerating when they talked about their children. You seemed like such a special case. We even thought you were mute," Bella playfully teased, her love for her son shining in her eyes.

"I beg your forgiveness, Mother, if my existence has brought upon you any grief or misfortune," Darian expressed with a somber tone. His eyes and hair had transformed over the past two years, bearing witness to the burden his differences had imposed upon his family.
 
She delighted in playfully teasing her eldest son, who, despite being raised in a humble household, always displayed remarkable propriety and responded with impeccable manners. Bella often pondered the origins of this trait, as neither she nor Zac were well-versed in the ways of noble etiquette. Nevertheless, she cherished him dearly, wrapping her arms around him in a tighter embrace. To her, he was her little treasure, the very embodiment of her heart and soul.

"My dear, you are the light of our lives. Your father and I consider ourselves incredibly fortunate to have such an extraordinary son," she expressed with deep affection, her words filled with love and gratitude.

She could perceive a sense of caution in his eyes, as if he navigated the world with trepidation, always on guard as if walking on thin ice. Darian carried himself with a constant air of carefulness, as if he were a guest in his own home, keenly aware of the potential consequences of every word and action. Bella sensed that something troubled her son, but she couldn't quite discern the nature of his inner turmoil or how best to alleviate it.

"Thank you, mother," Darian softly replied, his voice tinged with a hint of melancholy. -If she knew who I truly am, she wouldn't speak those words. I am carnage, death, the reaper of millions. Why couldn’t I be reincarnated like the other times.-

Just then, Zac appeared as an ice breaker, offering a way to divert their thoughts. "Come, my little man, let's sit in the garden. Your little brother could use some fresh air while your mother takes a bath."

"Yes, father," Darian replied, ever ready to assist. "Do you need me to carry anything?"

Outside the house, a magnificent mamba tree stood tall. Its bark had grown thicker than a few men combined, though it didn't tower above the average human height. The tree grew at an astonishing pace, and its orange fruits adorned with black dots hung from its branches.

Father and son settled beneath the shade of the mamba tree. Zac spoke, his voice filled with a tinge of regret, "It's unfortunate that we have to leave this behind. Your mother has always cherished these fruits. She used to bake Mamba Pies for me when we were younger..."

Darian, burdened by the knowledge that they had to uproot their lives because of him, tried to recall the day he was born into this body and the faces of those who had sought to harm them. Memories danced in his mind, yet they remained blurry, lacking the sharpness needed to exact vengeance upon someone who might be innocent.

"Forgive me, father. It is I, and only I, who is responsible for the predicament we find ourselves in," Darian confessed, weakness had brought him here, and his weakness had brought problem to this new family.

"No no no no, my son, this was never my intention," Zac replied, his gaze filled with anguish as he looked at Darian. "Being born is not a crime, Darian. You are our love, our warmth, our beloved son."

Darian sat there for a while, quietly taking everything in, in time he would protect them. Understand them better than his previous attempt. Guilt still lingered while the clouds kept passing by.

“yes, father” his voice carrying a solemn tone.

****
A few days later.
Deep in the forest a large group of men and women had gathered around a single person, as the moon shone down on them.

"Listen up, ye lily-livered lot! We're about to make a fortune, if ye follow me orders. Every last one of ya! Riches await, but only if ye've got the guts to take 'em!" he man spoke with a commanding voice, his bearded face and dark blue eyes revealing a rugged appearance. His unkempt brown hair bore the signs of neglect, and his breath carried a pungent odour of alcohol and other unpleasant substances.

One of the men, tall and skinny, voiced his concerns. "Boss, what if those bastards don't show up today? We can't stay put forever, we've been waiting here for two weeks without a single sign of 'em.”

Not shifting his gaze from the dancing flames, the captain responded, "Aye, that may be true. But our informant claims they'll be makin' their move by dawn tomorrow, if the tale holds true. So get some rest, tend to the horses, and stow away the grog for now. We'll be needin' clear heads for what's to come."

Raising his eyes from the fire, he surveyed the motley crew, his commanding presence demanding attention.
“WAGATAAA! “

As if in response to a call to arms, the group raised their weapons and shields high in the air.. “WAGATAAA… WAGATAAA… WAGATAAA…”

The boss retired to his tent while his crew continued their revelry, knowing full well they were naught but a pack of scoundrels. "Fools, celebratin' prematurely. The foolish ones will meet their end, but those who heed my orders might just come out on top."
An unexpected presence entered the tent, a woman with a cunning gleam in her eyes. "What's the size of our prize?"
"They be villagers, a whole lot of 'em. Some may put up a fight, but their guards are trained. We'll lose a few of our own, but the spoils will be enough to keep us in luxury for a good while," he replied callously, showing no remorse.

"What about our informant? How will we know if we don't mistakenly put 'em in harm's way?" she inquired.

"I'll reveal the rest come mornin', but our informant will be sportin' a red sash on their right arm. That's all ye need to know," he answered, a hint of mystery in his voice.

"Fair enough. But pray tell, how did ye manage to wring the secrets out of someone with knowledge of their plans and the garrison folk?" she pressed further.
"A few rounds of rum, hefty debts, and folks start spillin' their guts. Who knows, mayhaps someone bought up their debt and twisted their arm," he replied with a wicked grin.

"Cruel, yet I'm drawn to it. Now come closer, I want ye to spill every last detail 'til the mornin'," she demanded, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

Feigning surrender, he took a deep breath and exhaled. He couldn't deny his intrigue by her audacity. "Ye'll be the death of me..."

*****