Roselle’s eyes widened.
She drove a knee toward him.
Tyron twisted aside and threw her onto the ground.
Her shoulder struck a root.
Pain shot through her arm.
He grabbed the front of her tunic.
Fabric tore.
Roselle clawed at his wrist.
Something small landed on the back of Tyron’s hand.
He stopped.
A black insect crawled across his skin.
Tyron slapped it away.
Another landed on his shoulder.
Then another.
One crawled into his hair.
He crushed it between two fingers.
A strange sound came from the canopy.
Dry.
Rapid.
Thousands of tiny pieces of chitin striking leaves.
Roselle looked up.
The spaces between the branches had turned black.
Zamuraki.
Tyron slowly raised his head.
“No.” The swarm descended.
The first insects struck him like rain.
Then hundreds followed.
Tyron released Roselle and staggered backward, slapping at his neck and face.
“GET THEM OFF!” The Zamuraki bit.
Small jaws tore exposed skin.
Others crawled beneath his clothes.
Tyron ripped at his tunic.
“GET THEM OFF ME!” Nobody moved.
The insects gathered around his left eye.
Tyron covered it with one hand.
Zamuraki crawled between his fingers.
“NO!” He fell to his knees.
One insect disappeared beneath his eyelid.
Tyron screamed.
He clawed at his face hard enough to tear his own skin.
The swarm moved lower.
Roselle pulled the torn remains of her tunic around herself and crawled backward.
She watched the insects force themselves beneath Tyron’s clothing, searching for soft tissue with an efficiency that seemed deliberate.
Tyron’s scream changed when they reached his groin.
He collapsed completely.
“STOP!
STOP!
PLEASE!” His hands flew downward.
He crushed dozens.
Hundreds replaced them.
“GET THEM OFF!” No elf stepped forward.
The Zamuraki tore into the most vulnerable flesh between his legs.
Tyron rolled across the ground, kicking, striking himself, screaming until the words became incoherent.
“I’LL KILL—” His voice broke into another scream.
Then he saw the child.
Kyren stood beside Roselle.
The child’s green eyes were fixed on him.
Unblinking.
One Zamuraki crawled across Tyron’s cheek.
Kyren’s gaze shifted.
The insect shifted with it.
Roselle noticed.
So did Zino.
So did the elders.
The entire swarm was moving according to the child’s attention.
Someone dropped to their knees.
Another followed.
Then another.
Within moments elves across the clearing were bowing, foreheads touching the soil.
Roselle remained where she was.
Kyren did not look at them.
He looked only at Tyron.
A burning sensation spread across the ruined socket of Tyron’s eye.
He screamed again and pressed his palm against it.
Red light escaped between his fingers.
When he lowered his hand, a mark had appeared where the eye had been.
X.
Exile.
No trial was required.
No vote.
No elder could overturn it.
Delasai had judged him directly.
The Zamuraki stopped.
Thousands of insects lifted from Tyron’s body at once and returned to the canopy.
The sudden silence was almost as terrible as the screaming had been.
Tyron lay curled in the dirt.
For several seconds he only breathed.
Adrenaline had not yet released him.
Then it did.
The full pain arrived.
His body folded tighter.
A scream escaped him that no longer contained anger, dignity or language.
“Help me.” Nobody moved.
“Please.” Roselle watched him.
She felt no satisfaction.
That surprised her.
She had imagined hurting Tyron more times than she could remember.
The reality was only ugly.
“Help me!” The forest responded enough to prevent death.
Green light moved through some of his wounds.
Blood flow slowed.
Tissue sealed where damage would otherwise have killed him.
But Delasai did not restore what the Zamuraki had destroyed.
Tyron understood before anyone told him.
He touched himself.
His face emptied.
He would never father a child.
For an elf obsessed with bloodline and status, the punishment was almost more deliberate than death.
Tyron looked toward Kyren.
Hatred returned slowly.
It gave him enough strength to raise his head.
“I’ll kill you.” Kyren tilted his head.
No fear appeared in his face.
Tyron dragged himself toward the edge of the settlement.
Nobody stopped him.
Nobody helped him.
Delasai had spoken.
The following day, the elders attempted to choose parents for the child.
Three pairs were brought forward.
Each had been unable to produce children of their own.
The first female elf took Kyren from Roselle’s arms.
He stared at her.
Then immediately reached back toward Roselle.
“Give him time,” an elder said.
The elf tried to walk away.
Kyren began struggling.
Not crying.
Fighting.
His small hands seized her clothing, then pushed away with surprising strength.
When she returned him to Roselle, he became still.
The second attempt ended the same way.
The third lasted even less.
Kyren wrapped both arms around Roselle’s neck and refused to release her.
One elder sighed.
“Apparently the forest’s miracle has an opinion.” Roselle looked down at him.
“You have terrible judgment.” Kyren touched her cheek.
Something in Roselle’s expression broke.
She held him closer.
“Fine.” The elders exchanged looks.
“Roselle cannot raise him alone.” “I can.” “That was not a question.” Roselle’s eyes narrowed.
The elder continued.
“A boy requires a male guardian.” “Why?” “You know why.” “I know the answer you’re going to give.
I want to hear how stupid it sounds aloud.” The elder ignored the insult.
“A boy raised only by female elves may preserve excessive softness and innocence.
Beyond Delasai those qualities kill.” Roselle laughed bitterly.
“Yes.
The greatest threat to our kind.
Kindness.” “Tradition exists for a reason.” “So does disease.” Zino intervened before the argument could grow.
“Enough.” Roselle looked at him.
“Who?” “Riss.” That silenced her.
Riss had known Roselle since childhood.
He was one of the few elves who had remained beside her as her reputation collapsed.
He was not gentle.
Few hunters who survived the borders for decades remained gentle.
But Roselle trusted him more than most.
Riss accepted.
And so Kyren received something resembling a family.
Roselle became his mother.
Riss his father.
Whether either title would mean what the elders expected remained to be seen.