The village gates loomed ahead—painted with old sigils, rusted with mistrust.
Yui had insisted on returning.
"They need to see you're not dangerous," she said.
Ryu walked beside her, cloak pulled tight. The stares came faster this time. No whispers—only silence sharpened by fear.
The village elder stood waiting, arms folded. Others gathered behind him, forming a wall of judgment.
"We warned you," the elder said to Yui. "The boy carries the cursed sigil. That thing brings ruin."
"It hasn't harmed anyone," she said calmly.
"Yet." His eyes flicked to Ryu. "It's a matter of time."
"I can control it," Ryu said, stepping forward. "Let me prove it."
"You've already proven it," the elder snapped. "You drew mana from a leyline without rites. You melted stone in front of our children. You're unnatural."
The crowd began to murmur, louder now.
"Monster."
"Demon."
"Get him out!"
Ryu's hand clenched. The mark on his chest burned.
"Yui," he said quietly, "say something."
She looked at him.
Eyes soft. Voice lower than a whisper.
"…I'm sorry."
That was all.
She turned away.
The crowd moved in. Ryu's vision blurred with heat—rage, shame, confusion. The sigil pulsed bright, forcing people to stagger back.
He didn't fight.
He fled.
Through the trees, past the wind, into silence.
Betrayal didn't come with blades. It came with silence from someone you trusted.
And in that silence, the voice returned—calm, cold, welcoming.
"They don't deserve you. But I… I can teach you."