The chapel doors burst open with a resounding thud, jerking Dylan from his spiraling thoughts.

  "You thief! Give it back!"

  "No way! It's mine!"

  It was Matthew and Luke, storming into the chapel like a miniature hurricane. Matthew clutched a shiny stone close to his chest while Luke waved a copper coin in the air.

  "Guys..." Dylan muttered, rubbing his temples.

  "You're lying!" Luke yelled, pointing dramatically. "I paid for that shiny rock with my copper coin fair and square! Hand it over!"

  "Paid for it?!" Matthew shot back, clutching the stone tighter. "You threw the coin at me and yelled, 'Take it or I'll scream!' How is that paying?!"

  "Details!" Luke scoffed, crossing his arms. "Are you saying my money's not good enough for your stupid shiny rock?"

  "STUPID? How dare you?! Emma gave this to me!" Matthew yelled, and the two lunged at each other.

  "Oi, you two."

  Both boys froze mid-wrestle as Marcus entered, his voice carrying the same authority as Madam Agnes.

  Comically, Marcus also donned Agnes' familiar pink apron cutely embroidered with her name. But that didn't stop him from planting his fists on his hips like a parent scolding their kids.

  "Are you two fighting again?"

  Luke pointed at Marcus. "Pfft! Look at 'Little Granny Agnes' coming to save the day."

  Matthew gasped dramatically, throwing his arms around Marcus. "Mommy! You're back! Luke's bullying me again!"

  "Pffttt! Mommy." Luke giggled uncontrollably at Matthew's antics. "Good one, Matthew."

  "Sigh. You two-!" Marcus groaned, peeling Matthew off like he was some clingy cat.

  Dylan couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped his lips, even though he tried to stifle it.

  "Stop laughing!" Matthew wailed exaggerately, pointing an accusatory finger at Dylan. "You will make Mommy mad!"

  Luke immediately doubled over, laughing so hard he nearly fell to the floor.

  "'Mommy!'" he wheezed. "Oh, that's too good!"

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  "You two," Marcus grumbled, his patience wearing thin. Without a word, he raised both hands and karate-chopped the tops of their heads.

  "Ow!" Matthew and Luke exclaimed in unison, rubbing their heads.

  "We'll tell Daddy!" Luke yelled indignantly.

  "Daddy?" Marcus repeated, raising a brow. "Do you guys even listen to yourselves?"

  Seriously... I can't understand these children's humor.

  Luke was too busy cackling at his own joke to answer.

  Marcus sighed, his gaze falling on Dylan. "Letsl's get out of here, Dylan. Wanna hold hands?" he added with a teasing grin.

  Dylan nodded, smiling faintly as Marcus grabbed his hand and led the group toward the plaza.

  The four boys walked hand in hand, their footsteps echoing softly in the quiet village.

  Matthew and Luke had moved on from fighting to bantering.

  "Hey, you ever notice Marcus is too good at cooking?" Matthew said, grinning.

  "What can I say? It's a gift," Marcus said smugly, shrugging confidently, his nose high up.

  "I know, right?" Luke agreed, nodding. "It's baffling isn't it? I mean how did he even do that? He made meat taste like vegetables. It's magic!"

  "No, its alchemy. I think Theo said it's called transmutation." Matthew added.

  "Huh? I'm not sure if you're praising me or insulting me." Marcus replied.

  "Well, according to Luke's vocabulary, the words vegetable and disgusting are synonymous, so probably the latter." Dylan clarifies.

  "I knew it! You two, no dinner for you tonight!" Marcus yelled, but the grin on his face betrays his supposed anger.

  Dylan smiled faintly at their antics, but his mind felt heavy. Despite the cheerful banter, he couldn't shake the weight of his thoughts.

  Suddenly, Madam Agnes ran past them, her apron billowing behind her like some kind of battle flag.

  "I'm here!" she called, skidding to a halt. "What's going on?!"

  "Send help!" one of the guards shouted, his voice laced with urgency.

  "Escort them in!" another yelled.

  The growing commotion drew the attention of the villagers, who began to gather near the gates.

  "What's happened to him?"

  "Is that Father Lucian?"

  "Where's Sir Paladin?"

  The murmurs grew louder, and Dylan felt his chest tighten.

  "Father?" he whispered, his heart thudding in his ears.

  "Dylan, wait!" Marcus called as Dylan pushed his way through the crowd.

  "Father!" Dylan cried, his voice cracking as he broke through the wall of people.

  And then he saw it.

  A figure stumbled toward the gates, framed by the blood-red sky.

  His white robes were streaked with crimson, the once-pure fabric clinging to his body in heavy, uneven folds.

  "Father Lucian!" one of the guards called, rushing toward him.

  But Lucian's steps were slow and faltering, each movement heavier than the last. His head hung low, and his shoulders sagged under an invisible weight.

  Dylan's legs felt like lead as he took a shaky step forward.

  Please... no...

  Lucian stumbled again, falling to his knees just beyond the gates. The guards reached him quickly, their voices frantic as they tried to support him.

  "Someone fetch Madam Agnes!"

  "Get a healer!"

  "Hurry!"

  The crowd surged forward, their voices a chaotic blend of panic and confusion.

  Dylan couldn't move.

  All he could see was the red—so much red.

  I've been good, he thought desperately, tears welling in his eyes.

  So why? Why is this happening again?

  His knees buckled, and he sank to the ground, his small hands clutching the cold dirt beneath him.

  Marcus reached him first, kneeling beside him and shaking his shoulder gently. "Dylan! Hey, it's okay! He's fine, I'm sure of it!"

  But Dylan didn't respond.

  The world around him felt distant, the voices of the villagers muffled and distorted.

  Lucian's hunched figure blurred before his tear-filled eyes, merging with memories he had tried so hard to bury.

  The blood, the screams, the loss—it all came rushing back.

  Nearby, Luke and Matthew watched the scene unfold, their earlier banter replaced by unease.

  "Hey," Matthew whispered. "Is it just me, or is this way worse than that time we spilled Madam Agnes' stew?"

  "Matthew," Luke hissed, elbowing him. "This is serious! Stop comparing it to food disasters!"

  "I'm just saying!" Matthew protested. "That was terrifying, too!"

  Marcus shot them both a look. "Shut up, both of you."

  "Right, sorry," Matthew mumbled, though he still couldn't help glancing nervously at the gates.

  Dylan's tears fell silently, his small frame shaking as he whispered under his breath.

  Be good...

  His mother's words echoed in his mind, but they felt hollow now, like a promise he could no longer keep.

  Be good...

  But what was the point?

  No matter how good he was, no matter how hard he prayed, the bad things always came back.

  And now, Father Lucian...

  "Dylan..." Marcus' voice broke through the haze, soft and hesitant.

  But Dylan couldn't answer.

  He clutched the dirt tighter, his head bowed as he tried to stifle the sobs threatening to escape.

  Be good...

  The mantra played over and over in his mind, but it did nothing to ease the ache in his chest.

  And as the sun dipped lower, bathing the scene in deep crimson light, Dylan couldn't shake the feeling that something precious was slipping through his fingers once again.