Page 65 of A Requiem of Fire and Ice

“Are you going to let me through to save innocent children and women?” Dad questions.

I eye him and then look away. Lowering my blade, I step to the side to let him pass. “If you survive this, I will hunt you down myself,” I say as Dad moves past me.

Dad sighs. “You won’t kill me. You don’t have the heart to do it.”

My grip tightens on the blade, but it trembles. I don’t know why. I killed Typha as easily as breathing. So, why am I so afraid now?

“You should go as well, daughter,” Dad says. “As much as I am disappointed in your actions tonight, you’re still blood. Go with the children and the mothers. The Old Wolf will help keep you safe.”

“Whatever,” I say.

We go different ways out the door. But while he’s likely thinking about protecting innocents, my mind drifts to King Ragan and how much I want to sink my blade into the side of his neck.

I’ll deal with my dad later, provided he makes it out alive.

Chapter 29

The Curator:

At age two, Reen Kyong lived on an island called Eden, filled with dazzling neon lights, picked-clean streets, and welcoming faces adorned with vibrant smiles and cheerful spirits.

He lived on a quiet, homely street with four family businesses entwined with homes featuring flat roofs that clung to each other.

Market stalls propped up early in the morning, while various coloured banners and umbrellas shielded workers from the rippling heat or drizzle of rain.

The city streets smelled of home—a place where a loving parent or grandparent would cook with fresh ingredients, and the overwhelming aroma warmed even the coldest hearts.

Like most protagonists in stories, Reen is “special”.

The chosen one, I suppose, would be a more fitting description.

But for a two-year-old, he acted older—at least four—and stood taller than his peers. His older brother seemed to squirm the more Reen Kyong grew, fearing he would grow taller than him, and he didn’t like it as much, considering most elemny girls swooned over him for being tall.

If Reen kept growing, attention would shift to him, and he didn’t want that to happen. It would separate Reen from his older brothers whenever they played; instead, he would entertain himself when his parents were too busy.

Every morning, Ji-Sun woke her children up with the scent of savoury mushroom pancakes and a warm, thin liquid soup to wash it down before Reen watched his older sister and brothers depart for school.

He stayed home with his father, who often went to his workshop in the shed to build furniture and dream catchers to sell. Reen usually watched from a distance, his eyes glimmering with appreciation and awe as his father danced his hands in the air and entwined roots and wood with his elemental powers.

When his father finished with the dreamcatcher, Reen grew closer in wonder, yearning to touch its beauty. Still, like all good things, the flowers on the dreamcatcher wilted from his rippling heat when he grew near it. The roots coiled in fear as if alive, yearning to free themselves from the power the child never understood.

He often ventured around the street during the day whenever Ji-Sun needed more fruit and vegetables. A few streets down, market stalls flourished, and it was a ritual for them to seek fresh ingredients.

Reen had stared at the fish swimming in their tanks or the lobsters scrambling atop each other. He found life fascinating, and whenever a fight between two elemny broke out in the streets, he watched longer than the others. Whenever someone died and crimson pooled from their mouth, he spoke confidently to Ji-Sun that he didn’t understand the concept of killing and never wanted to.

“Sometimes we do things we regret later,” Ji-Sun told Reen. “One day, you may need to protect your family; the only way to protect them is to harm another.”

Her words filled Reen with confusion, and he went to bed that night, listening to his sister complain about feeding the dog again while his older brothers played video games on the computer. But little did Reen know that the following day would shape him.

For the better? Unlikely.

His father asked Reen to help him place the furniture in their family store beside their home. Reen watched the chair with flowers, his hands clenched together, and he chewed on his bottom lip as the flowers shied away from him.

It was as if he were something they needed to fear.

“What’s the matter?” Ji-Sun asked when she found Reen staring at the chair her husband had made.

“It will die if I touch it,” Reen spoke, his voice small and bitter for a child of his age. “Big brother is a fire elemental and doesn’t hurt anything.”