Lucian stood at the village gates, exhaustion weighing heavily on him as he surveyed the crowd.

  The villagers' murmurs grew louder, fueled by fear and confusion. Every eye was fixed on him, their priest, battered and bloodied yet somehow standing before them.

  Agnes stepped forward, her expression etched with worry. "Father Lucian," she said urgently, "what in the heavens happened? Where's Theo?"

  Lucian's lips parted, but for a moment, no words came. He glanced down at his bloodied robes, his hand trembling slightly as he gripped his staff.

  "Send people to the field," he said urgently, his voice cutting through the noise.

  His eyes fixed on Agnes, the only one in the village whose calm demeanor he could count on.

  "They're still out there. Theo…"

  Agnes's hand flew to her chest, her eyes widening. "Theo? Oh, no… Is he—"

  "Alive," Lucian interjected, though his voice was strained. "But injured. Please, we need to get to him."

  Before Agnes could respond, Gregory, her husband, stepped forward. His eyes narrowed at Lucian. "You said they're still out there. Who else is with Theo?"

  Lucian hesitated, his mind racing. Should he be honest? Or conceal the truth until the village was calmer? But the urgency of the situation hung heavy on him. He took a deep breath.

  "There's a boy," Lucian began, his voice low but steady. "Red hair, fur-covered limbs, claws, fangs… he's—"

  "A beastman!" Gregory interrupted, his tone sharp.

  The air shifted instantly, whispers growing louder until they became angry murmurs.

  Racist remarks began flying through the air.

  "A beastman?!" someone exclaimed.

  "Those monsters," another spat.

  "That thing dared to attack Father Lucian and Theo?" an old woman screeched, her knobby fingers trembling as she pointed toward the gate.

  Lucian's stomach churned. He could feel the weight of their hatred, their fear.

  "It's one of those animals," a villager spat.

  "We must capture it and turn it over to the Temple!" Gregory declared.

  "Or perhaps the Baron," another villager chimed in. "He's always complaining about the taxes. A beastman slave would fetch a good price."

  If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

  "You fools!" an elderly man shouted. "Why waste time with that? Kill it! That thing laid hands on our holy men—it doesn't deserve to live!"

  The mob's frenzy was escalating, and Lucian could see the situation spiraling out of control.

  Lucian swallowed hard, his fingers tightening around his staff.

  So this is what Theo warned me about.

  How repulsive.

  This ugly hatred festering beneath the surface. If I don't stop this now, they'll execute that boy without hesitation.

  That's troublesome.

  He inhaled sharply, his mind racing.

  Killing a child… no, I won't allow it.

  But more than that, Theo won't stand for this. He clearly abhor this kind of blind hatred. If this situation spirals further, I'll lose him. And I can't afford that.

  He glanced at Agnes, who seemed as unsettled as he was. But Gregory's words had lit a fire in the crowd, and they were moments away from spiraling into a mob.

  Lucian inhaled deeply, steadying his nerves. This was a crisis—one he had to control.

  Lucian's eyes scanned the restless crowd. He needed to act fast.

  Stepping forward, he raised his hand and called out, "People of Ciara!"

  The crowd's murmurs quieted slightly as their attention turned toward him.

  "I have bled for this community today," Lucian began, his voice steady despite the exhaustion in his body.

  "Just as I did in the past, and just as I will in the future. As the victim of the attack, don't you think it's only right that my voice be heard regarding this matter?"

  The murmuring ceased. The villagers exchanged glances, nodding hesitantly.

  Good.

  Lucian drew a breath. Now, he needed to guide them carefully. And acknowledging their feelings was key to make them more susceptible to suggestions.

  "Your anger is righteous," he said, his voice carrying an air of authority and empathy. "In this community, we love each other like family, and we hate it more than anything, when family is hurt."

  "Your thirst for justice is not misplaced. I understand—believe me, I do. I, myself, am a victim of this attack. I, too, want retribution. But let us direct our emotions wisely."

  Most villagers nodded, their eyes softening slightly as they absorbed his words. But some still burn with fury.

  Good. Now to shift their remaining rage… They need a common enemy—something vague yet convincing.

  Lucian's gaze swept over the crowd, his voice lowering as he said, "Good people of Ciara! We are under attack—not by this boy, but by a greater force. Someone seeks to divide us, to weaken our community."

  "Who?" someone called out.

  "Who would dare?"

  Lucian raised his staff, his voice ringing with conviction. "Whoever sent this boy wants to tear us apart. They want us to turn on one another, to destroy the bonds that make us strong. Will we allow it? Will we fall into their trap and act like mindless puppets while the true mastermind watches in glee, laughing on us as his plan succeeds?"

  "Never!" someone shouted, and others quickly echoed the sentiment.

  Lucian allowed himself a small smile.

  Now that they're distracted, time to undermine their immediate bloodlust.

  "Sir Theo," he said, his voice growing solemn, "has shielded this village countless times with his strength and his faith. But someone out there wants him gone. Someone out there wants us gone."

  The crowd stiffened, the weight of his words sinking in.

  "And as of this moment," Lucian continued, his voice shaking slightly for effect, "Theo is still out there."

  Unconscious.

  Vulnerable.

  "His loss would leave us utterly defenseless. Remember the monsters! The bandits! The pain we've endured, the tears we've shed for the family we've lost. Can we afford to lose one of our few protectors?"

  "No!" the villagers roared, their voices united in defiance.

  Excellent. Now to shift their focus entirely and buy time for the boy.

  Lucian stepped forward, raising his staff high. "We will not act in haste. We will not allow our righteous anger to lead us astray. Instead, we will seek justice—not through blind violence, but through divine order!"

  The villagers murmured, intrigued but hesitant.

  "I will lead a trial," Lucian declared, his voice firm.

  "A trial where all voices will be heard. With YOUR cooperation, we will uncover the truth behind this incident. With your help, WE will root out the true MASTERMIND behind this attack! And we wil crush them thoroughly, so they'll never think about crossing our family again!"

  The murmurs grew louder, but this time they carried a tone of agreement.

  Lucian seized the moment to rally them.

  "Let no blood be shed tonight!" he cried.

  The crowd stirred, their fear and rage transforming into resolve.

  "Tonight, WE will save our protector!" Lucian shouted, his voice ringing with passion.

  "And tomorrow, WE will bring the hammer of justice upon the perpetrators!"

  "To justice!"

  "To the fields!" someone shouted.

  "Save Theo!" another echoed.

  The crowd erupted into action, their energy redirected as they marched toward the fields to retrieve their fallen protector.

  Lucian stood still for a moment, watching them go. He exhaled slowly, the weight of the situation pressing down on him.

  Agnes stepped beside him, her eyes filled with a mix of relief and concern. "That was… incredible," she said softly. "But… what about the boy?"

  Lucian glanced back at the distant horizon. "One thing at a time, Agnes," he murmured. "For now, we save Theo. The boy's fate will come later."

  That buys me time. he thought, his gaze shifting toward the distant horizon.

  But what comes next… I'll need to be ready for anything.