Chapter 4 Elcarim's father.

Chapter 4 , Elcarim's Father :

Noal's Thoughts

Lying beside Healnor in the dim moon light, Noal’s mind drifted. Even though I am younger, why do I always feel like I’m the elder one here? He watched his brother’s peaceful sleep, the slight furrow in his brow even in slumber.

A strange warmth spread through him at the thought of Healnor looking up to him, relying on him. How would it feel if my big brother called me ‘big brother’? A blush crept up his neck and onto his cheeks. No, what am I even thinking? That’s not how it is. But… I will always protect you, Healnor. Always.

As the first rays of sunlight filtered through the small window, Noal stirred. A peculiar sensation touched his index finger – a soft, wet pressure. He glanced down and his breath hitched. Healnor, still half-asleep, had his lips gently pursed around Noal’s finger, lightly sucking on it.

A wave of shyness washed over Noal, his face flushing crimson. He carefully, slowly, withdrew his finger, his heart pounding in his chest.

Healnor’s eyelids fluttered open. He blinked, his gaze focusing on Noal’s increasingly red face. "Noal? Why is your face so red? Do you have a fever?" Concern etched his features as he reached out a hand and touched Noal’s forehead. It felt normal.

Noal’s blush deepened, spreading down his neck. He stammered, "N-no… I’m fine. Just… warm in here." He pulled the blanket up higher, trying to hide his flushed face.

Later that morning, the twins set off towards their usual secret place. It was a small clearing by a hidden waterfall, a spot they believed was unknown to the rest of the village, a sanctuary where they could truly be themselves.

As they walked along a winding path through the woods, a faint, painful groan drifted through the trees. Healnor stopped abruptly, his eyes wide with a sudden realization. "Was… was that Father?"

Noal’s steps faltered. He knew the stories, the hushed whispers among the caretakers. "It sounded like… it could be. But you know we are not allowed to go near him, Healnor. They said there would be… punishment."

They stood for a moment, listening intently. Another weak, drawn-out moan echoed through the trees, laced with a deep suffering that tugged at something unfamiliar within them.

The sound seemed to emanate from a dilapidated hut, half-hidden by overgrown vines, at the edge of the forbidden part of the woods. This was where the previous Elcarim resided.

Before the birth of the twins, he had been the sole male in Aethel, fulfilling the village’s needs. But now, with the arrival of Noal and Healnor, his purpose was deemed fulfilled. He was old, his body worn out, the life force that had once been so vital to the village now slowly ebbing away.

Confined to the abandoned hut, he lived out his days in isolation, his body often wracked with aches and pains, his voice a mere shadow of its former strength. The groans they heard were the sounds of a life fading, a testament to the cyclical and often cruel nature of Aethel’s traditions.

Fear flickered in Healnor’s eyes. The painful sounds were unsettling, hinting at a reality they had only heard whispered about. Noal, though curious, felt a primal instinct to obey the rules they had been taught. He took Healnor’s arm. "We shouldn't be here. Come on."

Healnor hesitated for another moment, his gaze fixed on the overgrown hut, before allowing Noal to gently pull him away. The painful moans faded behind them as they hurried towards the familiar comfort of their secret waterfall, the unsettling encounter leaving a silent unease in their young hearts.

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