Chapter 542: The Boy.

It… worked.

That’s what all the members of the Alliance Council thought as they stared at the sight in front of them with surprised—pleasantly surprised—looks on their faces.

Against all their expectations, the Water Point did not explode.

Even when the first Stonefang shoulders appeared at the ropes, when the first Velmourn eyes met the Stonefang’s, or when the first containers were filled and lifted and stored away into Sanctuaries like priceless treasure—it did not explode.

They… they survived—without any collisions whatsoever.

And that felt… unreal.

By the time the sun had climbed somewhere behind the gray clouds, the line had thinned. The steam above the pots still rose, but the crowd was no longer packed tight.

People began to breathe again.

Some even shifted their weight like the stone in their backs had finally loosened.

There were no shouts.

No punches.

No blades unsheathed.

Just the quiet scrape of boots on frozen ground, the clink of flasks, the low calls of the Water Wardens as they measured and sealed.

“Next.”

“One step.”

“Hold your container steady.”

“Move.”

Even the wind seemed calmer, as if it too was waiting to see if this fragile thing would hold.

Morvain stood to the side in a firm posture. Korvath was beside her, even his sharp gaze now seemed to be at… ease. For hours, he had been reading faces—of both sides. He had sensed the tension in the air; he had sensed how thin the threshold of chaos was and because of that—

He could now see that the tension that almost felt like it would choke a person before had eased considerably.

The people, both the Velmourns and Stonefangs, looked calm. Even their wariness toward each other had dropped significantly after standing together for hours.

Even Kayden, who stood near the Velmourn lane, was… less tense. His hand was not on his sword anymore. His eyes still tracked every Stonefang move, but the anger behind them had faded into tired caution.

And as he noticed him changing, Kael—standing closer to the front, near the distribution table, a place that gave him the view of both lanes at once and also helped translate if required—smiled lightly.

It wasn’t a wide, gleeful, satisfied smile. Kael now understood that his presence wasn’t light; it… meant something to both sides.

It had a weight.

The weight of a promise.

His presence alone made the two sides much more… reserved and collision-avoidant.

Lavinia stood half a step behind him. Instead of the crowd, her eyes were on Kael—reading him silently, finding… signs of exhaustion. Exhaustion from the responsibility that had now fallen on his shoulders.

For now, however, Kael was relatively much calmer.

After all, the two sides did not tear each other apart, and to him, that was a win.

The last few containers were filled.

The Wardens sealed them.

And then, finally, the Water Warden at the front raised his voice.

“That’s it. Last batch.”

A wave of… relief moved through the people.

Some Velmourns began to turn away, flasks tucked close to their bodies like shields. Yes, many didn’t store the flasks even now, hugging them like they were the most precious thing in the world.

Just like Velmourns, the Stonefangs shifted back toward their side, already stepping out of the lane, already forming into groups.

The ropes creaked as the guards loosened them, stakes were pulled from the ground.

The pressure of the line… eased as the line began to dissolve.

“It seems like the storm has chosen not to strike.”

Aelindra commented with a light, relieved smile.

And just as she spoke—

It happened.

In a quiet corner of the lane, near the middle, where the crowd was thinner, where people thought the danger had passed—

A small Velmourn boy stood there.

Seven years old.

Thin arms.

Chapped cheeks.

A scarf wrapped around his neck too many times because his mother was afraid of the cold stealing him too.

His name did not matter to the line.

But his eyes did.

Because his eyes did not look like the eyes of an adult.

Adults had learned to swallow things. Adults had learned to hide thoughts behind teeth.

But children did not swallow.

They… held.

And this boy… held a whole year of winter inside his chest.

His father had died last winter. He didn’t die of sickness or of hunger, no… his father died in the war against the Stonefangs.

His father died when the Stonefang raided them.

A kind of death that did not even leave enough of a body for a clean, final goodbye.

The boy had watched his mother cry until her voice broke. He had watched men drag blood-soaked cloth into the fire. He had watched the quarter go quiet in the nights after.

And in his small mind, the story had become simple.

Stonefangs took his father away from him.

That’s what those monsters always do.

Stonefangs… take.

And now, as he stood in the lane with his water flask held tight—because his mother had told him not to drop it, not even for a second—

He looked ahead.

He saw the Stonefangs.

They were leaving too.

And they had… water.

Velmourn water.

In their containers.

It happened again.

The Stonefangs took what was theirs.

The child’s eyes burned as he glared at them.

He saw a Stonefang woman step out of the lane with a horn flask at her hip. She carried a child strapped to her back. The baby was wrapped in fur and cloth, only a round cheek visible in the cold.

The woman turned slightly, speaking in her harsh, monstrous tongue.

The baby made a small sound.

The woman smiled. A tired smile curled across the lips of someone who was simply glad to have survived another day. A Stonefang warrior beside her smiled as well.

The boy saw that smile.

And his small heart twisted.

Because he did not see “tired.”

He did not see “relieved.”

He saw… laughter.

He saw them smiling with his water.

And something inside him rose. His fingers tightened around his flask until his knuckles went white.

And that was when he noticed something.

His mother, standing beside him, had loosened her grip on his hand. After all, just like others, the woman thought it was over. That she no longer needed to be wary.

She turned her head to respond to a Velmourn guard who was speaking to her.

“Is this enough for the week?”

The guard asked, his tone low.

“It should be,”

She replied, adjusting the strap of her flask, checking the seal one last time like every mother did.

And that small moment was all it took.

The boy’s hand was free.

His eyes fell to the ground.

There were stones everywhere in the Heights.

Jagged ones, sharp ones, black ones.

He saw one that fit his palm.

He bent down.

His fingers closed around it, bearing the cold that came with it as he stood again, his small shoulders remained stiff.

He stared at the Stonefang warrior standing near that Stonefang woman, laughing as if he had won. He stared at the water he was holding, at the smile on his face and…

“They take everything.”

He spoke.

It was just a light, soft whisper that was not for anyone else, but for him. For the hole inside his chest.

And then, as his eyes shined with determined anger, he pulled his arm back.

The motion was quick.

A child’s motion.

It wasn’t practiced, nor controlled, but it was full of yearlong pain.

The Velmourn guard talking to the child’s mother saw it. He saw the stone in the boy’s hand and the way the boy’s arm lifted, and his eyes widened in absolute horror.

“No—!”

He moved fast, reaching for the boy.

But the lane was tight. Bodies were still close.

“What—?”

The boy’s mother turned at the same time, hearing the guard’s sharp voice. Her shoulder bumped the guard’s arm. The guard’s elbow hit the boy’s shoulder and the boy’s light body was pushed.

It wasn’t hard.

But it was… enough.

Enough to… twist the boy’s aim.

And just like that—

The stone left the boy’s hand and it did not fly toward the Stonefang warrior the boy had wanted.

It flew low and wide and…

It struck the Stonefang baby the woman was carrying.

And in an instant—

“Uuggwaaayyyyyyyy!!!”

The baby cried.

A frightened, choking cry that was full of agonizing pain the baby had never experienced.

A panicked cry that cut through the cold air like a blade. The kind of sound that made every adult spine tighten.

The Stonefang woman’s face changed instantly. Her eyes went wide, hands flew to the baby as she checked the baby, shaking with sudden fear.

“Rakeer!”

She screamed, her panicked, fearful, and furious voice cut through the crowd and several Stonefang heads snapped around.

They saw the mother.

They saw the baby crying.

They saw the red mark on the baby’s face.

Then—

They turned.

They saw the Velmourn lane.

And then—

They saw the boy.

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