Does it hurt?

Cassian didn't know why he had done it. He couldn't explain it, but the moment he saw Ethan's smug face, something inside him snapped. He had never felt this before—the raw, undeniable urge to see someone suffer, to make them feel powerless.

Instructor Leticia and Elias were already tending to Ethan, who lay on the ground, his face a mess of tears and mucus. Without hesitation, Leticia grabbed Ethan's hands and rushed off at an astonishing speed, leaving Cassian, Elias, and the other cadets in stunned silence.

"Why did you do it!?" Elias's voice rang out, breaking the hush.

Cassian didn't answer.

Fury twisted Elias's features. Without warning, he swung a fist at Cassian's face.

Cassian dodged instinctively, stepping back just in time. His lack of reaction only seemed to enrage Elias further, but after a tense moment, Elias exhaled sharply, his hands clenching at his sides. There was no point in fighting a seven-year-old. With a glare, he turned and stormed off.

Cassian remained still, his golden eyes scanning the cadets who stood watching. Fear lingered in their gazes. He could feel it—how they recoiled, how they whispered. He said nothing, only walking toward the nearest tree and sitting beneath it.

An hour passed before Elias returned. This time, his face was calmer, but his voice remained firm.

"Kid, we found someone willing to take you in. Follow me."

Cassian stood without question, his sharp eyes studying his surroundings, memorizing the path as they walked. The journey was short, leading them to a modest stone house with a wooden roof, no different from the ones in his village.

Perched on a large boulder nearby, a young woman gazed at the sky, lost in thought. Her long black hair cascaded down her back, framing soft features—big round eyes, a small nose, and smooth gray skin untouched by scars. She wore a simple brown dress, adorned with small embroidered flowers.

As they approached, she noticed them and lifted a hand in greeting.

"Hi, Instructor Elias. What brings you here?"

Elias gave her a small, tired smile. "Hi, Ailyn. Is your mother here?"

"No, she went to visit Dad. He hasn't come back in four days." Ailyn stretched her slender arms, her tone light, as if this were normal.

"I see. Then she'll find out soon enough." Elias sighed, rubbing his temple before gesturing at Cassian. "Here, take the kid. Wait for them."

Without another word, he turned and walked away.

Ailyn watched him go, sensing his frustration but choosing not to ask. Instead, she turned her gaze to Cassian and smiled warmly.

"Come here, keep me company."

Cassian obeyed, sitting beside her on the boulder. He waited for her to speak again, but she remained silent, staring at the empty horizon.

"What are you looking at?" he finally asked.

"Trees," she replied simply. "Just watching the branches move with the wind."

Cassian followed her gaze, watching as the twisted limbs of the trees swayed gently. He didn't understand what was so interesting about it, but the peace on Ailyn's face made him hesitate to question it further.

Instead, he studied her.

Something about her presence was… strange. Comforting, yet unfamiliar. When she turned to meet his stare, she smiled again.

"What's your name?"

"Cassian."

Ailyn tilted her head, amusement flickering in her eyes. "You're cute, Cassian. With that long hair, you almost look like a girl."

Heat rose to his cheeks.

Ailyn chuckled. "First time I've seen someone turn red." Then, her gaze dropped to his hands, her expression shifting. "Is it because you have red blood?"

Cassian glanced down. His hands were still covered in dried blood from when the wooden sword had exploded in his grip. His ability must have been too much for it.

"What's so special about watching tree branches move?" he asked, steering the conversation away.

Ailyn put on an exaggerated thinking face, tapping her chin. "Hmm… Nothing, really. But it's better than washing clothes at the creek." She held up her hands, showing them off—scraped and raw.

Cassian frowned. "Does it hurt?"

"Yes, it does."

"Then why do you do it?"

Ailyn didn't answer right away. Her gaze drifted back to the horizon. Then, in a soft voice, she said, "Because I'm a woman."

Her smile wavered. Slowly, she curled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. Tears welled in her eyes, and though she tried to hold them back, they spilled onto her cheeks.

Ailyn, who had been gazing at the horizon, turned to look at Cassian.

Surprised.

Cassian, too, felt tears fall down his cheeks. He didn't know why she was crying, but seeing her like that—her beautiful face filled with pain—made him feel sad, too.

He was in a place he didn't know, with people he didn't know or care about.

Though they were crying for different reasons, they both couldn't help but feel attached to each other.

***

After a few minutes, Ailyn was the first to speak.

"Sorry for crying when we just met," she said with a small chuckle.

Cassian, who still had tears running down his face, looked at her.

Ailyn gave him a small smile and, with her scraped hands, gently wiped his face.

"Don't cry, Cassian, or I'll cry again. Don't cry, okay?"

Cassian nodded and wiped his nose with the collar of his shirt.

"Eww, don't do that." Ailyn grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the water stack. "Come on, let's clean you up."

She carefully washed him, making sure to be gentle around the wounds on his palms.

"The clothes you were wearing are dirty. Let me wash them."

Before she could start, Cassian tugged at her dress, looking worried.

"Don't worry, Cassian. I'll do it carefully," she reassured him.

After a few minutes, she finished and hung his clothes to dry.

"Now, let's wait for them to dry. But we can't have you running around naked. Follow me."

Cassian followed her inside the house.

"It's not that big," Ailyn said, gesturing around. "That's the kitchen and the table where we eat. There are two rooms—one for me and one for my parents."

She opened a wooden chest in the corner.

"I can't give you my old clothes—most of them are dresses. Though, I do have a few shirts that might fit you. They have flowers on them, though. If my dad sees you wearing them, he might kill me for making you dress like a girl."

She rummaged through the chest until she found a large shirt.

"This one's too big for you, but it's better than nothing. At least your parts won't be showing," she said with a smirk.

Cassian took the shirt and put it on. It fit like a dress.

"Let me dry your hair." She used another shirt to gently rub it dry.

"You have beautiful hair, Cassian. It's so smooth! I might steal it."

Cassian shot her a funny look.

Ailyn chuckled. "I'm just kidding. Now stop moving!"

Once she finished, she sighed.

"Well, time to prepare food. You can come sit at the table."

Cassian nodded.

"You know, Cassian, I like you. You're quiet. I feel like I could tell you anything."

With that, she turned toward the kitchen.

Cassian sat in one of the chairs, watching her cook, feeling—if only for a moment—like he wasn't completely alone.