NOVEL WEB Chapter 8: Between Mercy and Wrath”
A faint sound of crying echoed through the closed passageway… like the echo of a lost soul, searching for a familiar embrace amidst the rubble of death.
They all froze — Roziela, Elanor, Arian, and Aziel. Their eyes searched the shadows, but… nothing.
Elanor clung to Roziela's arm and whispered nervously,
"Did… did you hear that?"
Roziela nodded silently and continued walking, calm and quiet. But then… the crying returned. Louder this time. Closer.
Suddenly, Elanor felt a tiny hand wrap around her wrist. She gasped, stepped back quickly, and turned — only to find a small boy. His eyes were brimming with tears and fear. His face pale, his clothes dusty and torn.
"I… I lost my mother…" the boy said, his voice trembling.
Roziela quickly knelt beside him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"Sweetheart… how did you get here? The Passage isn't a place for children…"
"I was with my mom," he replied, voice cracking. "But I ran ahead of her… and then I couldn't find her anymore…"
The three exchanged quick glances. Roziela furrowed her brows, speaking lowly as she stared into the direction the boy had come from:
"The Passage is one way… it's almost impossible to get separated."
"Did you run far ahead of her?" she asked gently.
But the child broke down again, crying louder,
"I want my mom! Please!"
Roziela patted his head, whispering,
"We'll find her… don't worry."
Aziel stepped closer, his face hard, voice colder than stone:
"Find her? Roziela, are you out of your mind? This is not the time for pity. We're trying to survive — not rescue someone else's child."
Roziela kept her voice calm, but leaned in to whisper where the child couldn't hear:
"Most likely… his mother is dead. Maybe she let him run ahead to give him a chance, while she stayed behind to face those who wanted to kill them."
Aziel paused, then looked at the boy again.
"Then… he's a burden. Don't do this."
"I won't leave a child here to die alone!" she snapped in a hushed tone. Her gaze was firm, though her hands trembled.
"Roz… if his mother wasn't human… maybe that's why they executed her. Maybe this child isn't even human either."
She shook her head stubbornly.
"Even if he's not… I won't become like them. I won't abandon him."
Aziel exhaled sharply, fists clenched at his sides.
"You're a fool. You don't understand! This path is dangerous! We're nearing the heart of the Passage — the 'Executors' could show up any moment! And a crying child makes it easier for them! You… you're just a weak little girl who's only good at crying!"
Roziela froze. His words stabbed deep — sharp and cruel. Her voice shook, but she shouted,
"I never asked you to come with us! Go back, Aziel! We can manage just fine without you!"
She pulled Arian from his arms, grabbed the boy's hand firmly, and began walking.
"Elanor, come!" she called, never looking back.
Aziel stood frozen, eyes locked on her fading silhouette as she disappeared deeper into the dark corridor.
Why? Why did I argue with her?
Why do I even care? She's just some village girl…
"Saraphian…" he muttered to himself.
"You're an angel… stop thinking like a human. Stop feeling like one."
But he remained rooted in place. His mind told him to leave. His heart disobeyed.
What if… she gets executed too? What if she dies alone?
He lowered his head, clutching at his chest — then looked up again.
"Damn it… what a fool I am."
He ran after them.
⸻
A 14-year-old boy walked alongside his grandmother on the outskirts of a small village. His eyes glimmered with dreams, his face serene despite everything people said about him.
"I'll become a knight, Grandma!" he said with unwavering confidence. "I'll make the world a better place. No more injustice. No more bloodshed."
The old woman smiled gently, stroking his hair. She had heard that dream many, many times.
As they walked further, they passed a group of village children — who, the moment they saw him, screamed and scattered in fear,
"It's him! The cursed boy! The ghost boy!!"
They fled like his very presence was a bad omen.
The boy didn't move. He showed no anger, no sadness… just a quiet, unreadable expression.
Then, calmly, he turned to his grandmother,
"I'll make dinner tonight."
He said it simply — as if nothing had happened.
At dinner, his grandmother sat at the small wooden table, looking at the meal.
"Your cooking is as wonderful as always, my dear."
He smiled, then gently placed his spoon down.
"Grandma… I want to leave the village."
Her hands trembled. She looked at him in fear.
"Leave? No… why? You're all I have left!"
"This village… it's not for me. I don't feel like I belong here."
Tears welled in her eyes.
"You'll leave me…? I'll be alone…again … I'll die alone …"
He gently took her hand, meeting her eyes.
"I promise… you won't be alone. I'll come back. I'll take you somewhere better. Just one month. I'll send you letters through the raven every single day… I promise."
She stared at him for a long moment… then nodded slowly, tears rolling down her cheeks.
"Don't be late coming back…"
He smiled, and kissed her forehead.
"I promise."
⸻
Tairn sat in silence on a simple grave he had carved with his own hands. His mother's name was etched into the stone.
The scent of soil and burnt homes surrounded him. The memories of his people — their wings, their laughter — now only dust.
The girl beside him approached quietly, her steps light, her eyes brimming.
"I believe they're in a better place now… far from this hell."
Tairn rose suddenly, fists clenched, his eyes blazing with a fire no tears could extinguish.
"No. It's the humans who deserve to be in hell."
He stepped back, raising his gaze to the gray skies.
"I'll turn their world to ashes… I'll make them feel the same loss that burns inside me."
Then, in a voice cold and steady:
"If our souls are as light as butterfly wings…
Then let me be the flame that burns them as they chase the light."
The girl stood there — unsure if she was afraid of him now…
Or deeply drawn to the darkness he had embraced.