'That child is dead!'
The cruel truth of the words had resounded in the study, abruptly shattering the golden tranquility of the hour of dusk. The words had been thrown out with such force, that even the dust motes peacefully suspended within shafts of sunlight had seemed to swirl and dance away in a fright.
Seren had bitten her lip, looking in silence at her husband as he had continued screaming.
'Dead! And only so because of our inaction!' Mikah had continued, his tone harsh and accusing as she'd never heard before in the over five decades of having known the man. He had always been the perfect picture of patience and tenderness.
She hadn't known what to say to comfort him, and so, she'd chosen to say nothing at all. She'd merely remained standing by the desk, and by the younger man sitting lifelessly slumped by it.
The poor thing…
Then, Mikah had turned around, his long, braided beard swinging as he'd sped over to the desk, and slammed his hand upon its surface with a loud – THUD!
'Now that it has come to this, we must – we must! – seek help!'
'No!'
For the first time, the defeated-looking man sitting at the desk had spoken up. His voice was gruff and hard, and the way he'd spoken that single word had carried with it a hint of authority.
And finally, Grif had looked up to lock his tired, yet determined-looking eyes onto Mikah.
'We shall be doing no such thing,' he had said hoarsely.
'But – but!' Mikah had run a hand down his own, timeworn face before continuing, 'We must! We simply must! That child – Lana – is already dead! Dead! Do you understand me?! And for letting it happen while doing nothing at all, we are no better than murderers!'
'Enough, Mikah!' Seren had exclaimed, shaking her head at her husband. 'We cannot be blamed! Young Elara has survived being asleep for over a year! How could we have known that Lana's situation would be different? How could we have known that she would d-die!? How could you say it like that? We didn't know!'
'We didn't know?' the old man had laughed, hands worriedly wringing the length of his beard. 'We didn't know? We didn't… But we did all see, quite clearly, how young Lana's health deteriorated in a mere few days, to a point that Elara's hasn't yet! We could tell it was different! And with Elara's talent being what it is, you cannot tell me you didn't, at the very least, have a guess!?'
'A guess!?' Grif had exploded again, glaring up at his head caretaker. 'You'd have had me call someone to kill – kill – my daughter? My darling Elara, the little girl who has only ever given you love, and affection? You'd have her die, for a mere guess!?'
'For a death, Grif! And how could you say that, when I was here for the child's birth! I have only ever loved her in return. But now, another child. Is. Dead. And it shall happen, again and again, over and over, because as we all know, a distortion is – '
'Distortion?' Grif had stood up then, his chair crashing to the ground.
Overgrown beard trembling with rage, the headman had yelled, 'Distortion? How dare you!? My Elara has – has been affected by a curse, of some kind. Or a distorted phenomenon – something wrong with the water, or the trees! Her environment! Not her talent!'
'Are you hearing yourself speak, Grif?' Mikah's voice had cracked in despair, and Seren, who had been observing the back-and-forth from her corner, had felt her heart hurt at the sight.
'Knowing what Elara's talent is – knowing how she must be asleep for her dreamweaving to work, and knowing how – how lost, and empty, that poor child has been, so unlike herself these past few years – '
'Because she lost her mother, Mikah! She lost Elina! I. Lost. Elina! Death has torn her away from our arms in the most untimely, cruel fashion, and I…' Grif had paused to sigh, slowly and deeply. 'I'll be damned if I lose Elara too.'
Voice lowering until it was almost frighteningly calm, he'd continued, 'I truly would rather see this whole, hellish world come shattering down first.'
Seren had watched her husband's thin chest heave as he'd looked upon Grif, the jolly and playful boy they'd both seen grow into the man he'd become. A look of hurt and disbelief had played upon the man's aged face.
'What happened to lady Elina was a tragedy, Grif,' he'd said in a low voice. It was as though he'd suddenly lost all his strength and anger. 'But so is what happened to little Lana. Please, you must understand.'
Finally, the old man had turned to look at her. 'Seren, my dear, please… Surely you do. Surely, you understand why we must put an end to this matter, before more people are lost, before more people die…'
And Seren had looked upon the pleading eyes of her husband; at the familiar, aged face of the man she'd spent most of her life loving. From their youth – when he'd first admired her paintings and first given her flowers that she still kept, pressed in a book – until now.
Their skins were lined, and hairs were gray, and their passions had settled into a calm sort of love, where simply existing and working near one-another brought them comfort.
They were old now. They had grown old together.
Then, Seren had turned to look at Grif, who'd also turned to look at her. The man was tall, and larger than most. He had always cut an impressive figure, relied upon and respected by the residents of Silvershade.
Jovial and affable by nature, all those who worked with and for him only ever sang his praises. And when tragedy had struck, people far and wide had admired his grit, and how he'd carried on fulfilling all his duties regardless.
But Seren had seen what the others hadn't. She had seen how broken he'd become. She'd seen the emptiness in his gaze deepen, even as others naively praised his strength.
And at that moment, Seren hadn't seen the headman of Silvershade. When she'd looked at Grif, she'd only been able to see the small, joyful boy he had once been. The boy, who had now lost so much, who was so afraid…
And with dear little Elara having become the way she was…
So, so alone.
Seren had bitten her lip again. It was only when a faint, metallic taste had spread to her tongue that she'd realized she had bitten it to the point of bleeding.
'We cannot…' she'd said in a whisper.
'Yes, yes! We cannot keep this hidden anymore!' her husband had exclaimed. 'Lest more people die to the distor- '
'No, Mikah,' Seren had said, firmer now. 'We cannot allow anyone to find out about this matter.'
The old man before her had blinked at her in shock. 'Why…?'
'Why do you find it so strange?' Grif had laughed from her side, an imperceptible edge to his voice. 'It is simply because madam Seren loves Elara! She loves her, and cares for her, and hurts for her! Unlike you…'
'That is not true! Seren, my dearest, please tell him!' It had started seeming as though Mikah would collapse right there, on the floor before them. 'We love you, Grif, and we love young Elara. We have raised no children of our own. We have served you all our lives, and we see you as our own family! But… little Lana has died, and more people might, if we don't - !'
'I will not hear any more of this, Mikah,' Seren had interrupted. 'The moment the officials hear of this, the moment they hear even a whisper, they shall show here in droves, and drag that poor child from her bed, and kill her!'
'And I would give up my own life if it meant I could take that upon myself. I would gladly die if it meant they'd save Elara!' the old man had exclaimed. 'But I cannot! And if we do nothing, who else will die? How many more people must die because we've been too cowardly – too selfish – to do what's right -?'
CRASH!
The old man had just barely ducked to avoid the inkpot that had gone whizzing past his head. Seren had watched in a stunned silence as it had shattered against the wall behind him, leaving a dark, blooming stain that had spread across the wall and floor.
Like a disease of some kind, slowly but surely swallowing whatever came in its way…
Grif, who'd thrown the object, had said nothing more. His gaze, however, had turned murderous.
And even as Seren had wanted with all her heart to run up to her husband, and defend and comfort him, she had instead chosen to walk up to the village head, and rest a gentle hand upon his shoulder.
'Do not lose yourself, Grif. I shall allow no such thing to happen,' she had said.
'Seren…'
'And you,' she had said, turning to look at Mikah. 'Think, my dear. Why must we cause more pain with our actions?'
'Ha… haha! Seren, do you hear yourself speak?' the old man had exclaimed. 'Our circumstances are the same, and yet, I cannot understand why you wish to put more people in peril. Could it be that you are afraid, not of the loss, but of retribution? Because you know you will be blamed, as will we all, for allowing that child to die! For covering this up! Could that be what you are truly afraid of!?'
Seren had watched him yell at her, heart twisting in pain. She could tell he'd been lashing out, in confusion and anger, and hadn't truly meant what he'd said.
Were his words true? Of course not. Elara, to her, was like the sun. She could never forget what it had felt like, to have seen her smile for the first time. It had been as though her whole world had lit up brighter than she'd ever thought it could.
That child had always been the best gift she could've asked for in her life; a perfect combination of the way Grif had been, and the sweet lady Elina.
Seren, truly, had always loved the girl as she might her own grandchild.
...
But then, had Mikah's words been entirely incorrect?
…they hadn't.
She was afraid. Of course she was. Of loss, and pain, and guilt, but also of ridicule, and anger, and blame. Blame that would, someday, be directed towards not just her, but Mikah, and Grif - the head who should have prioritized his village.
Because, despite everything, Seren still had a clear mind.
And despite what she'd said, and what Grif wanted, she knew they could not escape the ultimate end that would come to this matter.
Someday, Elara would have to die.
...
But then again, didn't everyone?
Didn't everyone have to die someday?
If covering up a death could mean keeping that dear child safe a little longer, and that in turn could mean allowing Grif to hold on to his family a little longer...
Seren had come to realize, at that very moment, that she truly wasn't a good person.