Chapter 8 – Ash and Blood, Roots and Fire

Over the next few months, Lucian's visits to Selia became routine—something between a duty and a secret joy. What began as occasional lessons turned into an almost daily ritual. Though Selia never smiled much or coddled them, she allowed Lucian space to explore skills most boys his age never touched: how to track a hare from the smallest scuff in the mud, how to dress a wound without magic, how to move without being heard.

But Selia wasn't a charity. Even with her growing fondness for the twins, she expected work. She and Elina reached an arrangement: Lucian and Laila would clean Selia's house every day and do her laundry every other day. In return, Selia paid them five copper coins per day—far more than most children could hope to earn. It was backbreaking, but the twins never complained. They needed the money for future lessons in magic—and, more quietly, to support their sick sister Tista, when Nana's treatments strained the family budget.

Selia's house, despite its wild look from the outside, required constant upkeep. Dust layered over animal bones and old maps; mud and dried blood stained the floors; piles of gear needed to be sorted and cleaned. Laundry was worst of all—thick leathers and hunting clothes soaked in sweat and grime, needing to be beaten clean against stone. Laila, despite being smaller than her brother, was always faster and more precise with cleaning. Lucian had the strength to carry heavy bundles. Together, they made an efficient team.

That day started like any other. Sunlight filtered through the trees as Lucian and Laila carried buckets of water from the stream beside the cabin. The house smelled faintly of wood smoke and resin, and Selia had left a small note pinned to the door: Gone till dusk. Watch the snares. Five copper on table.

They worked in practiced silence. Lucian scrubbed down the front steps while Laila rinsed bloodstained clothes in a wooden basin. Birds chirped nearby. The world felt calm. Too calm.

When the attack came, it was sudden and overwhelming.

Six figures emerged from the trees, moving like shadows. Lucian didn't recognize all of them at first—but when one stepped forward and grabbed Laila by the hair, his breath caught. Hades.

His older brother stood tall, eyes cold, face twisted in something worse than cruelty—detachment. He didn't say a word. He didn't need to. The message was in the fists of the three older boys who surged forward and punched Lucian to the ground. The three girls tore Laila away from the basin and began beating her.

"Stop—!" Lucian gasped, but his cry was smothered by a boot to his stomach. He coughed blood, barely able to move. He could hear Laila crying out, not screaming, just short, pained sounds. She was trying to stay quiet. Brave. Strong.

Hades said nothing. He stood there, arms folded, watching them get thrashed like insects.

"Why?!" Lucian croaked, blood in his mouth. "Why are you doing this?"

One of the girls laughed. "Your brother said you two were getting full of yourselves. Time for a reality check."

Lucian was beaten down again, vision swimming. Laila struggled nearby, hands covering her head. Time blurred. Pain and humiliation fused into something deep, old. Something hot.

His body began to burn.

Not just from bruises—but from the inside. He could feel something igniting. Deep in his belly. His bones. His soul.

And then he heard Laila—not her voice, but her pain. It rippled through him like lightning.

A thread of something unspoken linked them, glowing between their hearts.

A scream tore from Lucian's mouth—not one of fear, but release.

Light burst around them, blinding and wild. The attackers reeled back. One girl cried out, holding her eyes. The earth shook slightly beneath Lucian's palms.

Fusion.

Lucian understood the concept before the words formed. Will. Intent. Element.

He gritted his teeth and willed the earth into his skin. His body hardened, skin like stone, bruises fading into solid pressure. Laila, her eyes wide and glowing pale blue, gasped as water magic surged through her, bones bending like willow branches. Her movements became graceful, fluid—untouchable.

Lucian roared and stood, fist slamming into one of the older boys, sending him crashing back against a tree. Laila ducked a punch and twisted, bones arching in a way that should've snapped her spine—except they didn't. She moved like a dancer made of flowing streams.

They didn't win the fight, not entirely. But they didn't lose either.

They survived.

When the attackers finally retreated, dragging away the groaning bodies of their wounded, Lucian and Laila collapsed beside the stream, bruised and exhausted—but alive.

The sun was dipping low when Elina arrived.

She was frantic, hair wild, breath ragged. "LUCIAN?! LAILA?!"

She found them sprawled against a tree, torn and beaten, limbs shaking but not broken. Her scream echoed through the forest.

"What happened to you?!"

Lucian opened his mouth, but Laila spoke first.

"Hades," she rasped. "He ordered it."

There was silence.

Then a fury, cold and sharp, washed over Elina's face. She didn't cry. She didn't scream again. She simply stood, hands clenched so tightly her knuckles went white.

That night, everything changed.

Apollo didn't want to believe it. He yelled. Accused Lucian of lying. Called it a misunderstanding. But when Elina brought back Selia as a witness—who had returned home moments after the attack and found blood and prints and a broken basin—the truth became undeniable.

The confrontation with Hades was swift. He denied nothing. Didn't even flinch when Elina slapped him hard enough to leave a red mark.

"You're not my son," she told him, her voice like iron.

"You're dead to this family," Apollo said next, though his eyes burned with regret.

Hades said nothing. He just turned and walked out of the house.

He never came back.

That night, Lucian and Laila sat together outside, bandaged and weary. Their bodies ached, but something inside them felt… different. Stronger. Not just the magic. The bond.

"We did it," Laila whispered.

Lucian nodded. "Fusion. You felt it too, right?"

"It wasn't just magic," she said. "It was you. I felt you—your fear, your strength. Everything."

Lucian looked at his hands. They didn't glow anymore. But the memory of that power still hummed inside his veins.

He didn't want it for revenge.

He wanted it to protect.

"I won't ever let them hurt you again," he said.

"I won't let them hurt you either," she replied.

They watched the stars above, the cold wind brushing their faces, and felt something new awaken within them.

Not just magic.

Purpose.