The Weight of Truth

At thirteen, Liam trained each morning with Tomlin behind the house, wooden swords clacking in the crisp dawn air. Despite being younger and smaller, Liam moved with uncanny speed. Tomlin swung hard, but Liam was always a step ahead to parry or dodge, as if he knew where each strike would come. Finally Tomlin lowered his sword, panting. "How do you always know where I'm aiming?" he blurted, half frustrated and half impressed.

Liam shrugged, unsure how to explain. Sometimes his Abyss-touched eye sensed a hint of movement or intent before an attack came. "Lucky, I guess," he mumbled, offering a faint apologetic smile.

Tomlin rolled his eyes, then laughed. "Your luck's getting real annoying," he joked, clapping Liam's shoulder. The two friends flopped down under an old oak to catch their breath, sharing a waterskin between them.

As they rested, voices from the nearby path caught Liam's ear. He stiffened when he heard his own name. Hidden behind the fence, he and Tomlin listened. Elder Marta and Edvin the miller passed by, speaking in low, serious tones.

"Perhaps it's best for Liam to go stay in the city for a time," Marta was saying. "The mages there understand powers like his. It might be safer... for everyone."

Liam felt as if the ground had dropped away beneath him. Edvin murmured in agreement, "An S-class essence in a boy could attract trouble. The guild in Redhaven could train him properly, keep the village safe."

Tomlin's face flushed red. Liam could see his friend's hands ball into fists. He felt his own throat tighten, heart thudding painfully. They want me gone, he thought, stomach twisting.

When the footsteps faded, Tomlin burst out, "They can't be serious! This is your home."

Liam tried to swallow the lump in his throat. "Maybe… maybe they're right," he said quietly, though the words tasted bitter. "What if I do bring danger? I don't want anyone to get hurt because of me."

Tomlin grabbed Liam by the arm, eyes fierce. "No. They're wrong. You haven't hurt anyone." He looked Liam in the eye. "I won't let them send you away. We'll make them see that."

That evening, a village meeting convened in the longhouse. Word had spread about the topic, and nearly everyone came, faces drawn with worry. Liam sat in the back beside his mother and father. Tomlin stood just behind them, a protective shadow. The air was thick with tension as Elder Marta addressed the crowd.

She cleared her throat. "No one here doubts that Liam is a fine boy," she began gently. "But considering the unusual power he was gifted, some of us think it might be wiser for him to receive guidance elsewhere. Perhaps in the city, with experts who can help him and ensure the village's safety as well."

A low murmur swept through the gathering. Liam felt his cheeks burn as dozens of eyes flickered his way. He stared down at his boots, heart aching. So it was true—they all thought he was a walking danger.

Before despair could swallow him, a firm voice broke through the murmurs. "In this village, we take care of our own. No exceptions." It was Liam's father.

All heads turned as Liam's father stood, resolve in every line of his face. "Liam is my son. He was born here and belongs here, as much as any of your children. We don't send our kin away out of fear."

The quiet that fell over the hall was absolute. Some villagers looked down, shamefaced. Edvin cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "The boy's done nothing wrong," he said gruffly. "Perhaps we were too hasty. I'm sorry, lad."

Elder Marta nodded slowly, regret on her face. "We were wrong. Forgive us, Liam," she said softly.

Liam realized he had been holding his breath. He exhaled in a rush as relief flooded him. His mother squeezed his hand, tears of gratitude in her eyes. Tomlin flashed Liam a broad grin and gave him a thumbs-up from the shadows.

The meeting soon adjourned. As people filed out past Liam and his family, many stopped to murmur apologies or offer a supportive pat on the arm. Liam responded quietly, voice still shaky from emotion, but he managed to smile. The knot of fear in his chest was loosening at last.

Later that night, under the stars outside their cottage, Liam stood beside his father. The cool night air felt soothing on his face after the stuffy tension of the hall. Crickets chirped in the grass.

Liam searched for the right words. "Dad… thank you," he finally said softly. "For standing up for me."

His father looked down at him with a small, proud smile. He placed a strong hand on Liam's shoulder. "Always," he replied. "In this family, we face everything together. Remember that."

Liam nodded, his eyes misting. He would remember. As he headed to bed, exhaustion and relief washing over him, one thought stayed clear in his mind: he wasn't alone. Whatever the truth of his powers and the weight they carried, he had people who believed in him. And that made all the difference.