Amaris stared at the jutting shoulders and sharpened talons of the creature. It had the typical, large eyes of a predator on the front, then three, smaller beady eyes decorating the outside.

Amaris asked, “Can you tell me the story?”

Brel considered it for a moment. He took the quill and wrote his response.

When Corsoran took me from my village to this keep, we saw three vageth in the woods.

Amaris frowned at the brevity of his story. She knew two things to be true. The first was that she had never met a man named Corsoran. The second was that the blood of the vageth contained a poison that made infected wounds impossible to heal, with or without healing tonic.

“Do you know what happened to him?” she asked quietly, not sure she wanted the boy to relive his traumas.

Brel scribbled in the notebook for a moment, then turned the page so Amaris could see.

He beheaded and buried all three vageth but was scratched in the fight. By the time he got us back to Uaimh Reev, the injury was too bad to fix.

A reever could have survived a bite or scratch from a vageth if they’d avoided contact with its blood. As any good reever, he’d undoubtedly separated and buried the severed parts to prevent the demon from reanimation. She wondered if it had been Corsoran’s thoroughness that had gotten him killed.

Her heart held so much heaviness for the boy. “I’m so sorry, Brel.”

I’m not.

At her confused expression, he continued his penmanship in the space below his initial sentence.

He brought me here to be with my real family. I only knew Corsoran for three days. I barely have any memories of my parents or village before he showed up. I’ve known everyone at the reev for nine years. I will forever be grateful to him, but I will never be sorry that I was brought here. I’ll be a reever someday. I’ll have more brothers than anyone in my village might have had.

“And a sister.” She smiled.

He shook his head.

You’ll be my brother too.

Amaris had learned that sometimes when she was at a loss for words, it was best not to speak at all. She hugged him, and he tightened his arms around her in return. He was not yet old enough to feel embarrassed by her displays of familial love, and she hoped he’d always stay that way. She wondered how often the young boy received parental affection in the castle. It wasn’t right for a child to grow up without hugs or gentleness. While everyone in the keep was exceedingly kind to the boy, she hoped he was getting the full and happy life he deserved.

After all, every child deserved unconditional love from their family for exactly who they were, not for who they hoped their child might be.

Part Three