A Price Paid in Blood (Part - 2)

Finn lunged, his dagger a silver blur aimed straight at Pyrrhus's head. Panic surged through Pyrrhus, and he tried to conjure the wind but his frantic mind failed to control the spell. It dissipated before it had even formed.

In that split second, a primal instinct flared to life within him and he reached for the element he loathed the most.

Fire.

It came to him as easy as breathing. A torrent of searing heat erupted from his outstretched palm, engulfing the clearing in an inferno that roared against his attackers.

Finn and Erik stumbled back, their faces contorted in shock, their eyes wide with a terror they hadn't known before. "He still has mana?" Finn choked out, his voice a mixture of disbelief and dawning fear.

Pyrrhus seized the moment. His mana was depleted, his body battered, but the flames ignited something within him—a spark of defiance.

He took the precious seconds of reprieve to desperately claw back what little energy he could.

He reached for his Manalock, drawing raw mana into it, the familiar warmth coursing through his veins, numbing the pain. In his haste, he hadn't noticed the flickering flames seeping into him alongside the mana.

"What are you waiting for, you idiots?" Milo's sharp voice sharp, cut through the stunned silence. "Get him!"

Finn and Erik exchanged a look, their fear twisting into a grim determination. Finn charged again, dagger flashing in the sunlight.

But Pyrrhus, fueled by adrenaline and a lifetime's worth of martial arts training, was ready. He ducked under Finn's wild swing, the dagger slicing his cheek, and retaliated with a furious uppercut to Finn's stomach.

He channeled every ounce of mana and rage into the blow. The fire he had unknowingly absorbed within him surged alongside it, igniting the very air around him.

The impact was explosive. Finn was launched backward, a ragdoll flung through the air, crashing into the ground ten meters away with a sickening thud.

All three of them looked stunned by the scene.

Erik hesitated, a flicker of doubt clouding his eyes. But Milo's venomous voice spurred him on. "Don't let him get away!"

Pyrrhus, however, was already moving, snatching up a discarded needle and channeling the dregs of his wind mana into it. With a flick of his wrist, the needle became a razor-sharp projectile, whistling through the air before burying itself deep in Erik's thigh. The boy screamed, clutching his leg as he collapsed.

Milo, his face ashen, finally snapped out of his shock. He conjured flames in his hands, his fingers dancing in a desperate attempt to control the wild magic. But Pyrrhus was already on the move, a tiny blade of wind magic forming in his palm. With a fierce cry, he launched it towards Milo's shoulder, the air buzzing with lethal energy.

For a heartbeat, time seemed to stop. The wind blade hurtled towards its target, Milo's eyes wide with terror as he raised his flaming hands in a desperate attempt to shield himself.

Then, a deafening crack echoed through the clearing, and both spells dissipated in a blinding flash of light. The shockwave sent Pyrrhus sprawling backwards, his body slamming into the hard ground. He lay there, dazed and disoriented, his ears ringing with the sound of the explosion.

A heavy silence descended, broken only by the pained groans of the fallen boys.

Then, Bram emerged from the dissipating smoke, his heavy footsteps echoing through the clearing. He stood over the scene, his face a mask of cold fury.

Milo, scrambling to his feet, stammered, "He... he attacked us first!"

Bram's gaze was like ice, his silence more chilling than any words could have been. Milo shrunk back, his flimsy excuses melting under the weight of the warrior's disapproval.

Pyrrhus lay sprawled on the ground, his small body a patchwork of bruises and cuts.

His vision swam, each ragged breath sending jolts of pain through his bruised ribs. But even through the haze of exhaustion, his eyes remained fixed on the abandoned dagger, now dulled by dirt and blood.

That was close, he thought, a shiver running down his spine. Too close.

The silence stretched taut, a rubber band ready to snap. Then, a single, terrified shriek shattered the stillness.

"My baby!"

It was Anya. Pyrrhus's vision cleared, and he saw her, her face a mask of terror, her eyes wide with a mother's primal fear. She stumbled towards him, her movements frantic, her voice choked with sobs. Behind her, a wave of villagers surged forward, their faces a distorted canvas of anger, fear, and confusion.

The air crackled with tension, the once peaceful clearing now a cauldron of raw emotion.

Anya dropped to her knees, her trembling hands gently cradling his face.

"Who did this?" she whispered, her voice barely audible above the growing din of the crowd.

Finn's mother, a gaunt woman with a face etched in lines of hardship, pushed her way to the front. Her eyes, cold and unforgiving, locked onto Pyrrhus.

"You little demon!" she shrieked, her voice a rasping claw that tore at the edges of sanity. "You've hurt my son! I'll see you burn for this!"

Her words ignited a firestorm of accusations. The villagers, their fears and frustrations boiling over, unleashed a torrent of venom.

"Monster!"

"Freak!"

"Banish him! Banish the cursed child!"

Bram's voice, a deep rumble that echoed through the clearing, cut through the chaos. "Enough!" he roared. "Silence!"

The villagers turned to face him, their anger temporarily redirected. But Bram's gaze was unwavering, his presence a mountain against which their rage crashed and broke.

Erik's father, a burly man with a voice like thunder, stepped forward, his face flushed with fury. "This is your fault, Bram!" he bellowed, jabbing a thick finger in the warrior's direction. "You brought this curse upon us! You coddled this demon child! Born of Fire? He should be burned in that same fire."

Bram's eyes narrowed, the air around him crackling with barely suppressed power. "The boys attacked Pyrrhus," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "They ambushed him. They *drew a knife* on a five-year-old."

A collective gasp rose from the crowd, the shock of the revelation momentarily silencing them.

"Lies!" Finn's mother screeched, her voice cracking with hysteria. "My Finn would never do such a thing! He's a good boy, a sweet boy!"

But Bram held up a hand, the silver glint of the discarded dagger reflecting the dying sunlight. "This is the 'good boy's' weapon," he said, his voice hard. "Perhaps you should teach him how to use it responsibly before you accuse others of wrongdoing."

The crowd recoiled, a wave of shocked murmurs rippling through them. Darius, his face a mask of cold fury, shouldered his way to the front, his eyes fixed on the cowering bullies. "If you so much as breathe in his direction again," he snarled, his voice low and menacing, "I'll break every bone in your worthless bodies."

Anya, her voice trembling with barely restrained rage, demanded that the boys be banished. "They are a danger to the other children," she cried, her words echoing the sentiments of many in the crowd. "They cannot be allowed to remain in this camp!"

Senton stepped forward, his voice a soothing balm in the midst of the storm. "Let us not be hasty," he said, his tone dripping with false concern. "We forgave Pyrrhus when he hurt Finn. Surely we can extend the same compassion to these boys. They are young, and they can learn from their mistakes."

Anya whirled on him, her eyes blazing with fury. "Forgive them?" she spat, her voice filled with disgust. "They attacked my son! They tried to kill him! And you're asking us to forgive them because they're children? They're vicious little monsters, and they deserve to be punished!"

Darius nodded in agreement, his grip tightening on the hilt of his dagger. "Banishment is too good for them," he growled.

A tense silence fell over the clearing. The crowd watched, their eyes darting between the enraged parents, the terrified bullies, and the stoic figure of Bram. The fate of the boys hung in the balance, the decision a powder keg waiting to ignite.

Then, a small voice cut through the tension. "Apology accepted."

Everyone stared at Pyrrhus stunned.

***

A/N:

Thanks for reading the chapter. I hope you enjoyed it.