No one touched the food.
The fish stew sat in the center of the small table, steam slowly fading into the stale air. The bread remained half-torn. The room felt heavier than it had before.
Tansy's father sat stiffly, one hand resting near his ribs where the Carbonyx shard had begun to grow. Her mother stood by the stove, silent, her face pale. Rose stared at the bowl in front of her without blinking.
"The skin disease just started," Tansy said at last, her voice tight. "It won't grow if you stop going to the mines."
"Tansy… stop," her father interrupted gently but firmly. "We've already talked about this."
"No," she insisted, her eyes filling with tears. "You don't have to go. If someone has to mine, I can go. I'm old enough to get married now. There are women in the mines too. I can do it."
Her father's jaw tightened.
"No means no," he said quietly. "This isn't about men or women. Or children. I am your father. I will not send my daughter into those tunnels."
"But—"
