Daren stood in the doorway, his shoulders slumped yet tense, like a man carrying something heavy and dangerous. Mira, who was folding clothes in the corner, looked up, surprised.
"Papa?" she blinked. "You're home early. Did something happen?"
Zen, seated quietly near the fireplace, turned his gaze to the door. Even he could sense it something was wrong.
Daren walked in and shut the door behind him with a soft thud. His eyes flicked from Mira to Zen. "We need to talk."
He sat down, rubbing his weathered hands together.
"It's about Lord Kather," he began, voice low. "He came to the shop today."
Mira's expression darkened. Zen leaned forward slightly, listening.
"Who is he?" Zen asked quietly.
Daren sighed. "A powerful noble. One of the lords who oversee this region under the king's name. But people fear him more than they respect him. He's… dangerous."
He looked at Mira. "Years ago, when we lost your mother and I had nowhere to go, he gave me a loan forced one, really. Said he was being 'generous.' But I had no choice. He owns half of Mistgale in secret, using threats and fear to control merchants like me."
Mira's voice trembled. "What does he want now?"
Daren's jaw tightened. "He said my debt's due. He wants me to take a shipment through Black Hollow Woods. Rare herbs. But I know it's not just herbs it's a test, or a trap. He said if I refuse, he'll take the shop… and he hinted he might come for you next."
Zen's eyes widened, his breath caught. A chill ran through the room.
"He smiled when he said it," Daren added bitterly. "Like he was enjoying it. He's not just cruel he's calculated."
A heavy silence followed.
"I'll go," Daren said at last. "I don't want trouble to come to you both."
"No!" Mira stood up. "It's suicide! There are bandits in that path, and monsters… you could die!"
Daren didn't answer. Zen stared down at his hands. Useless. Small. Weak.
He remembered the fire. The destruction of Eldoria. His parents' blood. The look in Mira's eyes when she cried with him.
"If I had magic… if I had power… maybe I could've protected them."
He clenched his fists.
That night, as silence filled the small house, Zen lay on his makeshift bed and whispered into the darkness:
"I don't want to be weak anymore."