Chapter 43: Pain

Michael was cowering behind his father. He knew that the slave rune had to go, but he knew that it would be painful. He looked at his mother, but Brunhilde's face was carved in stone.

"Michael? Give me your hand," Brandon said, red mana around his fingers.

"No!" The five-year-old screamed. He tried to run away, only to be snatched by Arnold. A single tear fell down Arnold's cheek.

He had wanted for Michael to be put to sleep first, but Brandon had told him that it might damage him in the long term.

Michael was simply too young for such potions.

"Mama!" Michael yelled, struggling in his father's grip.

"Michael," Pan's voice was like a rope thrown at the boy. Michael turned towards him, only to see that he was smiling.

Blood dripping down his arm.

"Come to me," Pan said.

"Pan!" Brandon yelled. He had been ready to take the boy's pain in himself. Had been ready for the days of torture he was going to experience.