The village judgment

Later that evening, Agata went into town.

She didn't need much just a few things from the market.

She liked walking through the town at this hour, when the sun was low and the air smelled of salt and warm bread.

But she also knew what waited for her there.

It wasn't new.

It wasn't unexpected.

But it was always there.

The whispers.

The glances.

The way people lowered their voices when she passed.

She stood near the produce stall, choosing some fresh fruit, when she heard it.

"...That's her. The mother of that strange boy."

"The one who can't use jōki? The quiet one?"

"That's the one. He's... unnatural, isn't he?"

Agata's grip on the fruit tightened slightly.

She exhaled slowly.

She had heard it all before.

It used to hurt.

But she had long since learned to bear it.

"...I heard he doesn't react to anything."

"It's like he's empty. Like something's missing."

"Maybe he's cursed."

That one made her fingers twitch.

But still, she didn't turn.

She had learned not to give them the satisfaction.

Instead, she stepped forward, setting her items on the counter, calm and composed.

The vendor shifted uncomfortably as he rang up her things.

Even though he didn't say anything, she could feel the weight of his thoughts.

But it didn't matter.

Because when she looked at Luka... she didn't see a curse.

She saw her son.

And she would love him, no matter what they said.

Agata carried the bag in one hand, her heart heavy, but steady.

She had always known that Luka's differences would make life harder for him.

People feared what they didn't understand.

And Luka was something they would never understand.

But he was hers.

And she would protect him.

Always.

When she returned, Luka was at the table, quietly flipping through a book.

She paused for a moment, just watching him.

So small. So quiet.

So unaware of how much she loved him.

She walked over, setting the bag down, and gently brushed his hair from his forehead.

Luka blinked up at her.

She smiled. "Did you behave while I was gone?"

Luka nodded.

She leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his head.

"I love you, Luka."

He didn't react at first.

But then—

Slowly, carefully—

He nodded again.

...

The house was warm and full of life, the scent of cooked fish and spiced potatoes filling the air as the family sat around the dining table.

Demid had just returned from work, his face lined with exhaustion, but his presence alone made the house feel whole.

Agata served the food, moving quietly, her hands steady—but there was something off.

Something Luka noticed.

Mama was thinking about something.

Something she wasn't saying.

Demid stretched, rolling his shoulders as he dug into his meal. "Tomorrow's a big day," he said, his voice carrying through the room.

Sasha looked up from her plate. "Why? Is it some holiday?"

Demid chuckled. "Not quite. Tomorrow is the day the traders come to take the noor."

Luka blinked.

Noor.

He had heard the word before. People in the village spoke of it often—but never explained.

So he tilted his head slightly, his voice calm. "What is noor?"

Sasha snorted. "Oh, great. Here we go. Mini Papa is asking questions again."

Luka ignored her.

Demid grinned, spearing a piece of fish with his fork. "Curious, huh? Alright, listen up, kid. Noor is the reason our town even exists."

Agata sighed. "Maybe don't make it sound so dramatic."

Demid smirked. "What? It's true."

He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping into the tone he always used when telling a story.

"Noor is a rare mineral. Looks like a regular stone on the outside, but on the inside? It holds electric energy. Stronger than anything we've ever been able to create. It's used to power military weapons, robots, even city grids. Without it, places like Kislevia wouldn't be half as advanced as they are."

Luka listened carefully, his mind turning over the information.

Something small and ordinary, holding something powerful inside.

That sounded...

Familiar.

He looked down at his hands for a moment, flexing his fingers slightly.

His wounds had disappeared today.

Like they were never there.

He was small. Ordinary. But something was inside him too.

Sasha propped her elbow on the table. "So, basically, we dig up magic rocks and sell them?"

Demid snorted. "It's not magic, Sasha. It's science."

Sasha rolled her eyes. "That's what someone who doesn't have jōki would say."

Demid raised an eyebrow. "You don't have jōki either."

Sasha's fork stopped mid-air.

The room went quiet.

A slight tension rippled through the space, so brief, so subtle, that most wouldn't notice.

But Luka did.

Sasha forced a laugh, shoving a bite of food into her mouth. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Maybe next week."

Demid's gaze lingered on her for a moment before he nodded, continuing.

"Anyway, tomorrow's important because the Kislevian traders will be here to take the shipments. Big payday for the company."

Then, he turned to Luka, a glint of excitement in his eye. "And since it's Saturday, you're coming with me."

Luka blinked. "To the mines?"

Demid grinned. "Yep. You'll see where I work. Maybe you'll even get to hold some noor yourself."

Sasha waved a hand dismissively. "Booooring. Why would anyone want to go look at a bunch of rocks?"

Luka didn't think it sounded boring at all.

.....

Later, That night, the house was still.

Demid sat on the edge of the bed, unlacing his boots, while Agata folded a blanket in her lap, her fingers moving slowly.

Too slowly.

Demid noticed.

He glanced at her. "Alright. Spill it."

Agata sighed. "Spill what?"

"Agata." His voice was soft but firm. "You've been off since you came back from the market."

She set the blanket aside, rubbing her temples.

"It's nothing new, Demid."

He waited.

She sighed again. "They talk about Luka. The way they always do. The way they always have."

Demid's expression darkened slightly. "...What did they say?"

Agata looked away, her voice quieter now. "That he's unnatural. That something's missing in him. That he's... cursed."

Demid clenched his jaw. "Bastards."

Agata shook her head, running a hand through her hair. "I'm used to it, Demid. It doesn't hurt me anymore."

But Demid wasn't convinced.

He reached over, taking her hand in his.

"It's not fair. It's not right." His voice was low, steady, but full of something heavy. "They act like he's broken. He's not."

Agata's fingers curled around his. "I know."

She exhaled slowly, leaning her head against his shoulder. "Do you ever wonder, Demid? If maybe, deep down, he wishes he was normal?"

Demid was quiet for a long time.

Then, softly—

"No. I don't think he thinks that way."

Agata closed her eyes, letting herself believe him.

For tonight, at least.