Chapter 3 - The Child and the Huntress

Liora walked through the Volx settlement, her grip firm around the infant wrapped in her arms. The murmurs followed her like an unwelcome breeze, hushed voices whispering doubts and suspicions. Some of the villagers kept their distance, their expressions wary, while others openly frowned, their distrust clear in their eyes.

“Why would she take in that child?”

“Does she not know what he is?”

“A huntress raising a cursed child? This is madness.”

She ignored them. She had made her choice, and no amount of gossip would change that.

The settlement of the Volx was unlike the towering stone cities of Rainin. Here, their homes blended into the jungleâ€" wooden structures woven between ancient trees, hanging bridges swaying gently with the wind, and earthen huts built into the roots of massive oaks. Fires burned in small pits, sending the scent of roasted meat and herbs into the air, mingling with the ever-present dampness of the jungle.

As she walked past a group of hunters sharpening their weapons, one of them scoffed.

“You should’ve left him where you found him, Liora,” said a broad-shouldered man with deep scars along his arms. His name was Taron, a seasoned warrior who had always been quick to speak his mind. “That boy carries Rainin’s blood. He is not one of us.”

Liora stopped but did not turn. “Neither are you,” she said. “Yet here you stand.”

A few of the hunters chuckled under their breath, but Taron’s expression darkened. “I earned my place here,” he said. “That child will bring nothing but trouble.”

“He’s just a baby,” she replied, her voice even.

“He’s an Omen-born,” Taron snapped. “You think Rainin abandoned him out of mercy? He was left to die because even they feared him. And now you’ve brought him into our home.”

Liora’s grip on the baby tightened. “If the gods had willed him dead, he would not be breathing in my arms right now.”

Taron’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he did not argue further. Liora took that as her cue to leave, striding toward her hut without looking back.

When she reached her home, she found Mirka waiting at the entrance. The older woman, draped in a cloak of woven reeds, watched her with knowing eyes.

“You’re causing quite the stir,” Mirka said, stepping aside to let Liora in.

Liora sighed as she entered, setting the child down on a small fur-lined cot. “I knew they’d talk,” she admitted. “I don’t care.”

Mirka hummed, kneeling beside the cot to examine the infant. The babyâ€" Kairos, as she had decided to call himâ€" stared up at her with wide, unblinking eyes. Those golden flecks in his irises seemed to shimmer in the dim light of the hut’s fire.

“You named him?” Mirka asked.

“Kairos,” Liora said, sitting across from her.

Mirka raised an eyebrow. “One who defies fate.”

Liora nodded. “If the gods have marked him, then let him choose what that means.”

Mirka considered this for a moment before giving a small nod of approval. “A strong name,” she said. She reached for a clay bowl filled with warm milk and crushed nuts. “He’ll need to eat. Here.”

Liora took the bowl and dipped a soft cloth into the mixture. Gently, she pressed it to Kairos’s lips. He latched onto it instantly, drinking with a hunger that surprised her.

“You’ve taken on a difficult path,” Mirka said, watching as Kairos fed. “The people will not accept him so easily. Some will hate him. Some will fear him. And many will wait for the day he proves them right.”

Liora’s jaw clenched. “Let them wait,” she said. “I didn’t take him in for their approval.”

Mirka smiled slightly. “No, I don’t believe you did.” She leaned back, her sharp eyes flickering between Liora and the child. “But are you ready for this, Liora? Raising a child is no small task. Raising him… that will be even harder.”

Liora didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she looked down at Kairos. He had finished drinking, his small fingers curling around her thumb. Something was unsettling about his eyesâ€" not in a bad way, but in how deeply he seemed to see.

She exhaled. “I don’t know if I’m ready,” she admitted. “But I know I won’t let him die like some discarded thing. He deserves more than that.”

Mirka watched her for a long moment before nodding. “Then you have my help,” she said simply.

Liora looked up. “Thank you.”

Mirka stood, brushing the dust off her robes. “You should rest,” she said. “It will be a long road ahead.”

Liora glanced down at Kairos, who was already dozing off, his small chest rising and falling in steady breaths. She reached down, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead.

Defy fate, she thought.

Kairos was no longer the abandoned heir of Rainin.

He was no longer a child marked for death.

He was now Volx. And no oneâ€" not the people of Rainin, not the gods, not even fate itselfâ€" would decide his path for him.

She would see to that.