Eternal Malediction

The barnyard faded behind them like a nightmare dissolving at dawn. The bonfire crackled weakly, its flames bending away from the two silhouettes as if even fire understood that it had witnessed something it shouldn’t have. The girl’s crying drifted through the air — soft, broken, trembling — the kind of crying that didn’t beg for help but simply acknowledged that something inside her had finally snapped free.

She cried because it was over. She cried because she could breathe again. She cried because fear had finally loosened its grip.

Roy didn’t turn around. Kieran didn’t turn around.

They walked through the outskirts, the cold air brushing against their faces, the grass whispering against their boots. The adrenaline drained from Kieran’s body like water slipping off stone. His shoulders loosened. His jaw unclenched. His eyes softened.

And then, unexpectedly, he laughed.

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t sharp. It wasn’t manic.

It was warm, a tired, nostalgic laugh that sounded like it had been buried for years.

Roy glanced at him. “What’s funny?”

Kieran shook his head, still smiling. “Do you remember that time in the junior school? When you tried to fight that older kid because he stole your bread?”

Roy snorted. “Why did you just remember that?”

“And you still got folded.”

Roy rolled his eyes. “Folded? He pushed me once, and I tripped over a bucket.”

“You cried.”

“I did not cry.”

“You cried.”

Roy sighed, but the smile tugging at his mouth betrayed him. "No, it was a tear from a yawn.”

They kept walking, the sky slowly shifting from black to a deep, bruised blue. The horizon glowed faintly, a thin line of gold stretching across the edge of the world. The trees swayed gently, their leaves catching the first hints of morning light.

Kieran breathed in deeply. "It feels like forever since we walked like this.”

Roy nodded. "It feels like forever since you laughed like that.”

Kieran didn’t deny it.

They reached the cabin.

And there, sitting on the wooden steps with his knees pulled to his chest, was Rin.

Barefoot. Hair messy. Eyes wide and tired but still holding that strange maturity he carried. He looked up at them with a sleepy seriousness that didn’t belong to most kids his age.

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Roy frowned gently. “Rin… why aren’t you asleep?”

Rin rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. “I tried… but I couldn’t fall back asleep.”

Kieran sat beside him. “It happens sometimes.”

Roy sat on Rin’s other side. “Yeah. Happens to us too.”

Rin nodded, accepting that answer with a maturity that didn’t fit his tiny frame. The three of them sat quietly, looking out at the outskirts of London. The grass shimmered with morning dew, each droplet catching the rising sunlight like tiny crystals. The trees swayed softly, their branches stretching as if waking from sleep. The sun’s rays peeked through the leaves, painting the world in gentle gold.

Rin hugged his knees tighter. “Did you… do it?”

Kieran didn’t hesitate. “Yes. It’s over.”

Rin stared at the grass for a long moment. His voice was small but steady. “When… when we talked to that man… I hid behind Lys.”

Roy looked at him softly. “That’s okay.”

Rin shook his head. “No. It’s not.”

Kieran turned toward him, the morning light catching the edge of his hood.

Rin’s voice trembled. “How am I supposed to protect my sister… if I hide behind someone else? I always hide. I hid behind my parents too. And then they… then they…”

He swallowed hard, his small hands tightening around his knees.

“They died. Right in front of me. And I didn’t do anything. I just stood there. I just watched.”

His voice cracked, but he didn’t cry. He didn’t break. He didn’t collapse.

He just spoke — honestly, painfully, bravely.

“I don’t want to stay weak. I don’t want to hide behind people anymore. I don’t want to be scared all the time.”

Roy exhaled slowly, the breath fogging slightly in the cool morning air. “Rin…”

Kieran leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Listen to me.”

Rin looked up.

Kieran’s voice was calm, steady and older than his years. “There’s one thing we want from you. Just one.”

Roy nodded. “One thing.”

Rin blinked. “What is it?”

Roy answered first. “Enjoy your childhood.”

Rin frowned. “But—”

“No,” Roy said gently. “Listen.”

Kieran continued. “We didn’t get one.”

Roy looked at the horizon, the sun rising slowly behind the trees. “I don’t remember my family. Not really. I remember switching orphanages. I remember sleeping in rooms that weren’t mine. I remember learning not to get attached because I’d be moved again anyway.”

Kieran’s voice lowered, the weight of old memories settling into his tone. “And I remember my father. I remember what he did. I remember what he was. I remember wishing every day that I could be somewhere else.”

Rin listened quietly, eyes wide, the morning light reflecting in them like tiny stars.

Roy placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’re eight. You’re supposed to be scared sometimes. You’re supposed to hide sometimes. You’re supposed to cry sometimes.”

Kieran nodded. “Strength comes later. It comes when you grow. When you learn. When you survive.”

Roy looked at him. “And you will. You already have.”

Rin’s eyes softened, his shoulders relaxing just a little.

Kieran continued. “But right now? You don’t need to be strong. You don’t need to fight. You don’t need to protect anyone.”

Roy smiled. “That’s our job.”

Kieran smirked as he hit his chest with a fist. “And we’re pretty good at it.”

Rin let out a tiny laugh, the kind that sounded like a child remembering he was allowed to be one.

Roy ruffled his hair. “See? That’s what you should be doing.”

Rin looked down at his hands. “But… if you’re not strong in this world… you get left behind.”

Kieran nodded slowly. “That’s true.”

Roy added, “But that’s a truth for adults. Not for you.”

Kieran leaned back, looking at the rising sun. “Your time will come. You’ll grow. You’ll learn. You’ll get stronger. And when you do, you won’t be hiding behind anyone, and you will probably end up stronger than me and Roy combined.”

Roy smiled. “But until then… let us be the ones who stand in front.”

Rin breathed out, long and slow.

The morning light washed over them — three silhouettes sitting on a cabin step, the world quiet, the dew shimmering, the sun rising over the outskirts of London.

Rin finally spoke, voice soft but sure.

“Okay.”

Kieran smiled. Roy smiled.

They knew one thing, both Roy and Kieran: they were jealous of Rin, as he wasn’t forced to grow just yet like they had too.

Like they had too… To grow up.