Maria stood frozen in the doorway, staring at Vael.
Her eyes traced over his silver hair, his wolf ears pressed flat against his skull, his tail that had stopped wagging the moment he sensed the tension, his claws still gripping Violet's shoulders.
Behind her, Garrett's presence had changed completely.
The warmth that had filled the cottage moments ago evaporated like morning frost under harsh sun.
His hand rested on his axe—not gripping it, not yet...
The look of a man calculating how quickly he could remove a threat from his home away from his little girl.
A boy. In his cottage. Touching his daughter.
Violet felt the pressure building like storm clouds before lightning.
She stepped between them—small body blocking Garrett's line of sight to Vael.
"Calm down, Papa," she said quietly.
Then she turned to Maria, whose face had gone pale.
"He—he's my friend," Violet said.
Maria's mouth opened.
Closed.
She looked at Vael again—really looked this time. At the way he stood protectively close to Violet.
At the worry clear in his grey eyes. At how young he was despite his height.
"But he's—" Maria started.
"Not from here," Violet finished. "I know."
Silence crashed down like a fallen tree.
Violet took a breath.
Composed herself.
Then looked at Vael.
"Can you wait outside for a moment?" she asked gently. "I need to talk to my parents. I'll call you back in soon."
Vael's ears flattened further. "Did I—did I do something wrong?"
"No." Violet's voice was firm. "You didn't. I did. I kept secrets from my family." She managed a small smile. "It's not your fault. I just need to explain some things first."
Vael hesitated, looking between Violet and her parents.
Reading the same type tension like he'd read in a battlefield.
Then he nodded slowly and backed toward the door. "I'll be right outside. If you need me—"
"I know," Violet said.
The door closed behind him with a soft click.
The three of them stood in the cottage—Violet, Maria, and Garrett. The fire crackled. Somewhere outside, an owl called.
"Sit," Garrett said quietly. Not a suggestion.
They moved to the table. Maria sank into her chair like her legs had given out. Garrett remained standing, arms crossed.
Violet sat across from Maria, hands folded in her lap to hide their trembling.
"I need to tell you something," she began. Her voice was steady. Too steady. "For the past few months, when I was away... I went to the Valley of Winds."
Maria's whole body jerked. "The Valley of—Violet, that's where—"
"Where the war just happened," Violet finished. "Yes."
"You—" Maria's voice climbed higher. "You went to a warzone? A place where battles—where people were dying—"
"I had to." Violet met her mother's eyes. "I had to go there to save my friend. It was important and I couldn't—"
The slap came before she could finish.
Sharp. Sudden. The sound cracked through the cottage like breaking ice.
Violet's head snapped to the side. Her cheek burned. Tears sprang to her eyes—not from pain, but from shock.
In two lifetimes, Maria had never raised a hand to her.
Never.
Not once.
She touched her cheek slowly, staring at Maria with wide, disbelieving eyes.
Maria's hand was still raised.
Trembling.
Her face was red, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"Do you—" Maria's voice shook with rage and fear and something deeper. "Do you have any idea what you've done? Any idea at all?"
Violet opened her mouth. No words came.
"Did you think—" Maria's voice rose higher, cracking. "Did you think for even one second what would happen to us if something happened to you?"
She stood abruptly, chair scraping against the floor.
"We spent weeks not knowing if you were alive! Weeks wondering if you were hurt, or captured, or—" Her voice broke. "Or dead in some ditch where we'd never even find your body!"
Violet glanced at Garrett. He stood silent against the wall, face carved from stone. But his eyes—his eyes held the same pain Maria was screaming.
"Do you know what war is?" Maria demanded. "Do you understand what it means?" She wasn't crying anymore.
Just rage. Pure, crystallized terror transmuted into fury. "Do you know how it feels to spend every single night lying awake wondering if you're safe? If you've eaten? If you're cold or hurt or scared?"
Her hands clenched into fists.
"And you went to a warzone?" The words came out strangled. "Without even telling us? Without giving us a choice to stop you or help you or—"
She turned away, pressing both hands to her face.
When she spoke again, her voice was barely above a whisper.
"What if something had happened to you?" Maria's shoulders shook. "What if you'd been killed? What if we'd lost you and never even known why?"
Her voice cracked completely.
"If something had happened to you..." She turned back, tears streaming freely now. "How would we continue to live?"
The question hung in the air like smoke.
Maria sank back into her chair. When she spoke again, her voice was hollow.
"I wanted to give you freedom. I wanted you to grow strong and independent and brave." She looked at Violet with red, swollen eyes. "But if that freedom comes at the cost of your life—if it means you run toward danger without thought or care—then what kind of mother am I to allow it?"
She covered her face with both hands.
"Do you even consider us your parents—"
"Maria!" Garrett's hand slammed against the table. The wood cracked. "Don't."
"No!" Violet shouted.
She lunged from her chair and threw her arms around Maria, nearly knocking her backward.
"I'm sorry!" The words burst out like a dam breaking. "Mama, I'm sorry! I was selfish! I didn't think—I just—please forgive me!"
Tears poured down her face. Hot and shameful and unstoppable.
"But don't say that," she sobbed into Maria's shoulder. "Don't ever say that. I love you. There's no one in the whole world I love more than you."
She pulled back just enough to look at Maria's face.
"Please understand," Violet begged. "I need to do this. I can't explain everything—not yet—but I need you to trust me. Please. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
Maria's arms came up, wrapping around Violet with desperate strength.
"You idiot," she whispered, voice breaking. "Why can't you just trust us? Why can't you let us help you?"
She pressed her face into Violet's hair.
"Just trust us a little," Maria sobbed. "That's all I'm asking. Don't carry everything alone."
They clung to each other—mother and daughter, both crying, both terrified, both loving each other with a ferocity that transcended words.
Garrett stood against the wall, fists clenched, jaw working silently.
His eyes were wet but he didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Just watched his family break and try to piece itself back together.
***
Outside, Vael sat on the porch steps, looking at the moon.
The silver light painted everything pale and dreamlike. His breath misted in the cold air.
His ears twitched.
Even this far away, he could hear them. The raised voices.
The crying.
The sound of Violet's cries.
His jaw clenched.
He stood and walked further away—past the fence, into the tree line—until the sounds faded to nothing.
Until there was only wind and his own breathing and the quiet crunch of snow under his feet.
He sat against a pine trunk and stared at nothing.
After a long time, he heard Violet's voice calling his name.
He stood and walked back toward the cottage, tail low, ears forward.
Ready to face whatever came next.