I left with the child, but he regretted it afterwards

When Zelda walked into the den, I almost didn’t recognize her.

Just five days ago she had been as radiant as a wildflower in bloom. Now her cheeks were swollen, the corners of her mouth cracked, and dark bruises wrapped around her wrists so savagely they were painful to look at.

“Yvonne!” She fell to her knees the moment she saw me, bone striking stone with a sharp thud. “Please let me go. I can’t take it anymore.”

Instinctively, I stepped back. “What are you talking about?”

“They make us train from sunrise to moonrise. No rest. Barely any food.” She lifted her skirt of torn hide, revealing lash marks on her waist. “I fainted from exhaustion. They whipped me awake with a leather strap.”

“That’s impossible,” I blurted. Before sending her to the trainee barracks, I had investigated the clan thoroughly. They had no record of mistreating novices.

Zelda’s tears splashed onto the dirt floor. “It’s true. Please don’t send me back. I can’t be a trainee anymore.”

A chill crawled up my spine. “What do you mean I’m sending you? You told me it was your dream. You begged me to help you join.”

“I never had a dream,” she whispered. “I only wanted to stay by Kurt’s side.”

Then she turned to Kurt with trembling lips. “Kurt… the training is too hard. I can’t endure it. May I stay with you instead? I promise I’ll be good.”

Kurt reached out, gently patting her head, helping her rise.

When he turned toward me, his gaze was colder than an ice-edged blade. “Why did you force her?”

“I didn’t,” I protested, my voice shaking. “She begged me to go. I vetted the training clan. They don’t treat initiates this way. There must be some mistake—”

“Look at her injuries,” Kurt snapped. His brow furrowed. “What misunderstanding could explain this?”

He took a step closer. “Since you won’t admit it, then you will feel the suffering Zelda endured. Think of it as penance.”

Before I could speak, he seized my wrist. His grip tightened so fast a bruise bloomed immediately.

He dragged me toward the storage cavern.

He called to Zelda. “Bring Ethan.”

Kurt had always been gentle with our son. So when Ethan saw him, the little one giggled, reaching for him, nestling into his father’s shoulder for comfort.

But Kurt didn’t respond.

With a cold expression, he peeled our child off his neck and shoved him into my arms.

“Zelda was beaten. I won’t lay a hand on you. But your son will suffer with you.”

“Kurt,” I cried, grabbing his arm. “I swear I didn’t do anything. We can ask the elders to check the vision stones—call the guard, check the records.”

“So now you claim Zelda is lying?” Kurt’s voice dropped low. “Why would she harm herself just to frame you?”

“I raised her for six years,” he said, voice filled with conviction. “She is gentle, kind, pure.”

His eyes darkened as he looked at me. I never felt more like a stranger. “When did you become so cruel, Yvonne? You would even harm a child?”

My soul felt as if it were being dragged into a frozen abyss.

We had known each other sixteen years. Shared a den for six.

Yet Zelda’s tears erased everything.

The storage cavern door slammed shut behind us, plunging us into darkness. Ethan’s cries filled the air—loud, frantic, terrified.

The hot, dusty air choked us.

My baby, still fragile from fever, thrashed weakly in my arms. His cries faded into broken sobs, each one weaker than the last.

“Kurt. Open the door.” I pounded until my palms numbed. “He’s burning up again. He was just released from the healer’s hut. His wounds aren’t healed. He could die in here.”

“Kurt, punish me. Strike me if you want. But save Ethan.”

“He’s your son too. I’m begging you.”

Silence.

Only silence.

My legs buckled. I slid down the wall, trembling as though my heart had been cut out while I was still breathing.

Ethan’s cries grew softer. His breath shallow.

“Ethan. Don’t fall asleep.” I patted his cheek gently. “Baby, look at Mama.”

His lips parted with the faintest whimper, but his eyes did not open.

“Ethan.”