At nearly fourteen, Kenji was built like a young stag, lean but corded with the muscle of a life of labor. His shoulders had begun to broaden, his jawline sharpening from boyhood softness. He had his father's intense, dark eyes and thick, unruly black hair, but his mother had given him a softer mouth and a surprising pair of dimples that appeared only on the rare occasions he forgot to frown.
Right now, he wasn't frowning. He was staring, utterly bewildered.
The Kharman village was not what he had imagined. Treehouses of silvery wood and living vine spiraled up into the canopy, connected by graceful rope bridges. Glowing mushrooms lined crystal-clear streams, and the air smelled of honey, herbs, and rich earth. And everywhere, there were women.
Dozens of them. All sharing an otherworldly, effortless beauty. As Merinet led Kenji and Rina down the central path, every activity ceased. Dozens of pairs of eyes fixed on them.
A young witch carrying a basket of luminous blue fruit froze, her mouth agape. The basket tilted, and fruit tumbled to the mossy ground with soft, musical plinks.
"A… a man?" someone whispered.
"He has Elara's nose…"
Rina, walking stiffly beside Kenji, felt a strange, new sensation, a hot, prickly inadequacy. Her own wiry, compact frame felt… boyish. She unconsciously pulled her worn travel cloak tighter.
Merinet led them to the largest treehouse. Inside, she laid out the bargain with cool precision. "I can teach you to leash the shadow, Kenji. It will still burn your years, but you can learn to make a single candle's worth of light last a night. The decay will slow. It will not stop."
"And the truth?" Kenji asked.
Merinet's ancient eyes softened. "Truth is a blade, grandson. Master the ember in your chest first. Then I will give you the weapon of your past."
Trapped, Kenji nodded. Rina simply crossed her arms.
"Good," Merinet said. "Your tutor will be here shortly."
As if summoned, the front vines parted with a cheerful rustle.
"Auntie Meri! I felt the wards sneeze! Did we get a OH!"
The girl who bounded in was a burst of chaotic energy. Maybe fourteen, with a wild mane of fiery red curls and a galaxy of freckles. She skidded to a halt, her gaze locking onto Kenji. She beamed.
"You're the shadow-boy! You're much prettier than the story-spirits said!" Before Kenji could process, she'd thrown her arms around him.
Kenji went utterly rigid.
Over the girl's shoulder, he saw Rina's face. Her eye developed a faint, persistent twitch.
The girl Eris, released him and spun to Rina. "And you! The last sun-spark! Your hair is so shiny!" She reached out, and Rina took a deliberate step back.
Eris just laughed. "I'm Eris! I'm in charge of your boring foundational stuff. Meditation, aura sensing. Don't worry, I'll make it fun!"
Merinet sighed. "Try to leave the village standing, Eris." She glided out.
What followed was a disaster.
Eris tried to guide them to feel their "inner wellspring."
Kenji found only the cold, gnawing hollow and the memory of the shadow-beast.
Rina found a guarded, simmering core of light that refused to be inspected.
Eris, sitting between them, glowed with a palpable, joyful energy. "Just breathe into it!"
Kenji breathed. A wisp of shadow-smoke escaped his lips. The cushion under him frosted over.
Rina breathed. The air around her grew uncomfortably warm and dry.
Eris breathed. A dozen tiny, glowing butterflies made of light manifested and fluttered around her head.
"Hmm," Eris said, opening one eye. "Okay! Different wells! That's fine!"
The comedy of errors continued. Eris was tactile, constantly adjusting Kenji's stance. "Your energy's all knotted here," she'd say, her touch warm against the perpetual chill in his muscles.
Rina, watching, would then practice the stance alone later with fierce, meticulous precision.
Sometimes, their training was interrupted.
A silent, elder witch would appear. "The Matriarch summons the Sun-Spark," she'd intone.
Rina would leave, returning an hour later with a deeper frown and a faint scent of ozone and dried violets clinging to her clothes. She never said what happened.
Another time"The Matriarch will see the Shadow-Son."
Kenji would follow to Merinet's sanctum, a room walled with living crystal. She'd watch him for long moments. Then offer a single, cryptic correction, or ask a strange question about the quality of the cold in his bones. Once, she had him hold a smooth, dark river stone until it grew warm, then cold, then hummed in his palm. She took it without a word. The lessons felt less like instruction and more like appraisal. He'd return feeling off-balance.
They never discussed these sessions. It became an unspoken pact, a part of their life that belonged solely to the Witch Queen.
Days turned into weeks. Kenji applied himself with solemn focus. The witches softened, treating him like a rare, slightly clumsy creature. He was tasked with gathering "moon-touched" dew and managed to drench himself. He tried to weave a blessing into a vine fence and created a knot that took three witches to undo, laughing all the while.
He heard stories. His mother, Elara, had been beloved. She could make the stubborn earth bloom. For the first time, she was not a ghost, but a person. A person he had cost everything.
One evening, an elder witch pressed a honey cake into his hand. "You have her kindness in your quiet. Welcome home, child."
That night, sitting on the porch of the small loft he and Rina shared, he smiled. A real, unguarded smile.
Rina saw it from where she was sharpening her blade. She paused, then looked away.
Below, the village celebrated a minor festival. Lanterns floated, music wove through the trees.
Eris found Kenji, grabbed his hands, and pulled him into the clearing. "You have to dance! It's for energy flow! Really!"
He was awkward, all stiff limbs, but he tried. The witches laughed with encouragement. He found himself laughing too, a rusty, unfamiliar sound.
Rina watched from the shadows. The smile returned to her face, small and private. For a fleeting moment, it felt like peace. Like a home.
Then her gaze found Merinet.
The Witch Queen was not dancing. She stood apart, watching Kenji's laughter, Eris's joy. Her expression was one of deep, complex calculation, the look of a gardener who has grafted a dangerous thorn onto a healthy rose, waiting to see if it will take, or poison the whole garden.
The fun was real. The warmth was genuine.
But the cage, however gilded, was still a cage.