Apology... Accepted?

A stunned silence hung over the crowd, their anger momentarily quelled by Pyrrhus's unexpected words. He reached out his tiny hand, and Anya, her eyes brimming with tears, instinctively lifted him into her arms.

Senton, ever the manipulator, seized the opportunity. "What an understanding child," he purred, his voice dripping with false sincerity. "Truly wise beyond his years."

Pyrrhus, however, merely shrugged, his voice surprisingly calm for a child who had just been through a harrowing ordeal. "It's fine," he said, his gaze sweeping across the crowd. "I'm a child, and children make mistakes. There will be plenty of times when I'll have to apologize, too. I hope you'll be just as understanding when it's your turn."

A ripple of unease passed through the crowd, Senton's smile faltering for a fraction of a second.

Erik's father, unable to contain his rage, lunged forward, his face contorted in a mask of fury. "You evil brat!" he roared, raising a meaty fist.

But before he could reach them, a sharp metallic whistle filled the air. The enchanted needle, still buried in Erik's thigh, shot from like a bullet, grazing the man's neck before Pyrrhus caught it in his tiny fists.

A thin line of blood welled up on the man's skin. "Oops," Pyrrhus mumbled. "Sorry about that."

The man stumbled back, his face pale with shock and fear. The crowd watched in stunned silence as Pyrrhus, cradled in his mother's arms, calmly surveyed the scene.

He turned to his mother, his voice barely a whisper. "Mama, can we go home now?"

Anya, her heart aching for her son, nodded silently and carried him away from the gaping crowd.

Inside the tent, a hushed tension filled the air. The cramped space was packed with concerned faces: Anya, Darius, Cora, Owen, Elara, Jonathan, and Bram. All eyes were fixed on Pyrrhus, his small body curled up in Anya's lap.

Jonathan knelt before him, a gentle glow emanating from his outstretched hand. Pyrrhus felt a soothing warmth wash over him, easing the throbbing pain in his bruised limbs. "I'm not very good at healing wounds," Jonathan admitted, his voice raspy with age. "But this should help."

Anya, her eyes brimming with tears, carefully applied a salve to Pyrrhus's cuts and bruises, her touch feather-light. Darius hovered nearby, his face a mask of worry, his hands clenching and unclenching as he struggled to contain his rage.

Cora, her usually bright eyes dimmed with worry, knelt beside Pyrrhus. "Does it hurt?" she whispered, her voice barely a breath.

Pyrrhus shook his head, offering her a weak smile. "I'm okay," he reassured her.

But Anya wasn't so easily convinced. As she gently cleaned the cut on his cheek, a single tear rolled down her face. "Maybe we should leave," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "Leave this camp, find somewhere safer."

The words hung in the air, a heavy silence settling over the tent.

"Child, what madness are you spewing?" Jonathan exclaimed, his voice sharp with surprise.

"Vestin is out for all of us," Bram added, his tone grave. "We have to stick together."

Pyrrhus frowned, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Vestin?" he asked. "Who's that?"

Darius exchanged a look with Anya, a flicker of doubt clouding his eyes. "Maybe she's right," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "Maybe we should leave, find a place where Pyrrhus can be safe."

Elara, her eyes filled with a wisdom born of years of hardship and loss, knelt beside Anya, her weathered hand reaching out to gently stroke her cheek.

Anya flinched, her gaze dropping to the floor. "I know you blame me," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "For our misfortune."

"That's not true," Darius protested.

But Elara shook her head, a sad smile gracing her lips. "You should," she said, her gaze returning to Anya. "Forgiving Vestin, letting him walk away... it might have been a mistake."

She paused, her eyes searching Anya's face. "But he represented something my son never had," she continued, her voice barely a whisper. "A choice. No matter how heinous, it was his choice."

Her gnarled hand gently cupping Anya's cheek. "My son, on the other hand, was burdened by the family's expectations, by their responsibilities. He never had a choice. I tried to shield him from the harsh realities of the world, but the more I sheltered him, the heavier the burden became."

Elara's voice grew stronger, her eyes shining with a fierce determination. "Every time he went into battle, it was with the weight of my fears on his shoulders. It was my fault, Anya. I tried to protect him from the world, not prepare him for it."

Her gaze shifted to Pyrrhus, her voice filled with a grandmother's love and wisdom. "Don't make the same mistake with Pyrrhus. You cannot run from his power, his brilliance. Even covered in dirt and mud, it will still shine."

She paused, her voice softening. "Watching our children struggle, get hurt... it will always be harder than shielding them from the world. But it's the only way they'll truly grow. Let them struggle, let them get hurt, and watch over them for as long as we can. It's the best we can do for them."

Anya's voice cracked, her composure fracturing like a mirror shattered by a child's fist. "I don't know what to do," she confessed, tears streaming down her face. "I want to protect him, but I don't want to hold him back. I don't want him to hate me for trying to control his gift."

Elara, her weathered face softened by compassion, reached out and gently cupped Anya's cheek. "Foolish child," she murmured, her voice a soothing balm. "You are never alone. We are all here, with you, for you."

Jonathan nodded, his eyes twinkling with a mix of sadness and understanding. "While I cannot give you life lessons, gods know we've made enough mistakes," he said, his voice raspy with age, "I can teach Pyrrhus to control his magic. To harness its power without letting it consume him."

Bram, the stoic warrior, knelt beside Anya, his gaze unwavering as he placed his enchanted blade before her. Its azure glow pulsed with a comforting warmth, a stark contrast to the cold steel of its construction. "I promised your brother," he said, his voice a low rumble, "that I would always protect your family from harm. But it's a promise I cannot keep."

His words hung heavy in the air.

"Pyrrhus will get hurt," Bram continued, his voice laced with a bittersweet honesty. "He will struggle. But if there's one thing I can promise, it's that I will die before I let anyone harm him."

Pyrrhus, his tiny heart overflowing with a cocktail of emotions he couldn't yet fully understand, gazed at the faces that surrounded him. Anya, her eyes brimming with tears, yet her chin held high with an unyielding determination. Darius, his knuckles white as he gripped Bram's sword, a silent vow etched on his face. Elara, her weathered hand a comforting anchor on Anya's shoulder, her presence a beacon of unwavering support. And Bram, the formidable warrior, his eyes softened with a tender promise that transcended words.

Cora and Owen who sat beside him in silent support.

Family.

The word resonated within him, a foreign concept that suddenly held an undeniable weight. In his past life, despite losing his parents at a young age, he had enough wealth to live his life in peace. Yet he'd always felt an emptiness, a void that could never be filled by material possessions.

Now, here he was, surrounded by love and warmth, despite the hardships and dangers they faced together. He wouldn't trade this, he realized, not for all the riches in the world. He would gladly endure the struggles, the conflicts, the pain, just for the chance to be a part of this family.

A lump formed in his throat, a wave of gratitude and determination washing over him. He might be small, he might be young, but he was not powerless. He had magic, he had love, and he had a family to protect.

With a newfound resolve, he looked at his mother, his eyes shining with a fierce determination. "Don't worry, Mama," he said, his voice stronger than ever before. "I won't let anything happen to us."

***

A/N:

I couldn't complete editing it. Will edit it in a while but hope you like the chapter 😄