A new day had begun. Yesterday, Zirael had left, and now I was the only one left here.
"Well, let's do this!" I murmured to myself as I splashed my face with some cold water.
While walking toward the center of the house, I overheard my parents talking. The worry in their voices was palpable.
"If this issue can't be resolved with a conversation, Naci, we'll have to leave the village," my father said gravely.
"But where would we go?" my mother replied, her anguish evident.
"To the city… or maybe to the continent of Draicon," my father answered, his words filled with uncertainty.
"No. This is where I had our son… and, and, and soon we'll have another. What… what will become of us if we leave?" my mother said, raising her voice slightly, clearly distressed by the thought of abandoning the place she considered home.
"I'll speak to the master of Viandas or my father about the issue, but I can't promise it will be solved with words," my father replied, lowering his head with resignation. "If it can't be resolved, I'll ask for more time until your delivery, so you're not at risk."
Unable to hold back, my mother began to cry softly. "Shh… please…"
"Understand! I'm in serious trouble. The counts and the production don't match up as they should," my father exclaimed, pacing back and forth.
"Sh…"
"I feared this would happen. I didn't think it would grow this much. I got overconfident, thinking I could divert and increase production elsewhere, but it didn't work out."
"Zhh…"
My father's face turned serious. "If they were trying to sabotage me, they succeeded," he said, standing still for a moment. With a lower tone, he continued, "When the harvest shipment arrives, and they see the numbers, those errors will become obvious. They might replace me in my position—or fire me," he added, before turning toward the door. "I'm really sorry… Please, Nara, take care of my wife. I'm going out for a while."
Naára, who had been standing by the fireplace, nodded coldly at the situation unfolding before her.
After Elmer left, I approached my mother. She was sitting in a chair while Naára tried to console her.
Seeing me, my mother tried to smile, putting on a calm face to appear normal.
I stayed by her side for a while until she fell asleep. At that point, I decided to try and get more information about what was happening.
"Naára, tell me the truth… What's going on? What's the problem?" I asked in a low voice.
"My lord, this is an issue for your parents. It's not something you should worry about," she replied kindly.
"I understand, but isn't there some way or something I could know?" I whispered.
She only ignored me, turning her gaze away.
Although I didn't speak much with Naára, as she was always somewhat evasive toward me—probably because I was just a child—I already understood a bit of the context.
Months ago, after the incident with the unidentified body that was found, problems began for Elmer. The crops no longer yielded as they once did. There were withered plants and barren fields, despite the rains never failing. This issue seemed to follow my father like a shadow.
He had tried everything to solve it, but nothing worked.
My thoughts constantly revolved around the circumstances affecting my family. The problem was serious, and the idea of leaving this place no longer seemed like a simple solution… But why did it have to be that way?
Then, another idea crossed my mind.
No, no, I don't think that's possible… I don't think my father would allow it, I thought.
My ideas weren't fully organized. It was like a mental storm, full of possibilities that wouldn't let me focus. Amid the chaos, one persistent thought stood out—my father might send me to my grandfather. Perhaps everything he mentioned the day before was related to that.
"Ha-ha," I let out a soft laugh, trying to relax.
The outdoor air was very pleasant. I realized I had lost track of time amidst so many useless thoughts. At least the sky was clear; it didn't seem like it would rain today.
"Afs…" I sighed, releasing some of the tension I had built up.
I kept telling myself, just think of good things, good moments. My mind wandered into pleasant memories, both from this life and the one before.
But then, voices began to emerge in my mind, insistent and dark. "Kill him, kill him, kill him now!" Were they dreams? Or memories? The voices seemed to intertwine with others, like distant echoes. "Son, son… son," I heard, sounding familiar—like those of my first parents.
Suddenly, a loud voice broke through the chaos in my mind.
"Son… Son!"
"Ahh!" I opened my eyes abruptly and found my father. He was standing over me, shouting my name to wake me up.
His face showed desperation, but my eyes were drawn to the black smoke rising in the distance.
"What's happening?" I asked.