Tamura was different that day.
The other children noticed it almost immediately.
He still moved the same. Still worked when told. Still spoke only when necessary.
But something was… off.
The emptiness that usually filled his eyes was gone.
In its place—
Something heavier.
Quieter.
Unsettling.
Even the children who normally ignored him kept their distance.
"…What's wrong with him?" one whispered.
"I don't know," another muttered. "But don't get near him."
Tamura heard them.
He heard everything.
But none of it mattered.
His thoughts felt distant.
His body felt tight.
Like something inside him was pressing outward, waiting for a moment to break free.
It happened sooner than anyone expected.
A hand grabbed him from behind.
Rough.
Violent.
Tamura's body tensed instantly.
"Where is he?"
The voice was sharp. Familiar.
The wolf beastkin.
"Where's Tasheen?" he demanded, tightening his grip. "You were there yesterday. What did you do to him?!"
Tamura didn't answer.
He didn't move.
The boy's grip tightened further, frustration bleeding into anger.
"I'm talking to you!"
He reached forward—
And grabbed the pendant.
The chain snapped.
A small, sharp sound.
But to Tamura—
It was deafening.
For a split second, everything stopped.
Then—
Tamura moved.
His hand shot upward, faster than anyone could react.
He grabbed the boy by the throat.
Lifted him.
Effortlessly.
The wolf beastkin's eyes widened in shock as his feet left the ground. His hands clawed at Tamura's wrist, struggling to breathe.
Tamura said nothing.
His crimson eyes locked onto the boy.
Unmoving.
Unforgiving.
Slowly—
He raised him higher.
Preparing to throw him.
The room froze.
No one moved.
No one spoke.
Then—
"HEY!"
The doors slammed open.
Guards rushed in.
Two of them grabbed Tamura immediately, wrenching his arms back and forcing him down. The wolf beastkin dropped to the ground, gasping for air before quickly scrambling back.
Then—
He started crying.
Loud.
Desperate.
"He—he tried to kill me!" he shouted, pointing at Tamura. "He just attacked me out of nowhere!"
The other children watched.
They knew the truth.
Every single one of them.
But none of them spoke.
Not for the guards.
Not for Tamura.
Fear kept their mouths shut.
Mistress Vayra was not present that day.
So the guards made the decision themselves.
Tamura was dragged down into the lower levels of the estate.
Chained.
Beaten.
Three guards took turns.
Blows landed across his body again and again. His ribs, his back, his shoulders—each strike heavier than the last.
This wasn't like before.
It hurt.
It hurt more than anything he had felt in years.
But Tamura didn't scream.
Didn't beg.
Didn't break.
He endured.
Until—
One of the guards lifted his foot.
Aiming for his head.
And brought it down.
Tamura's hand shot up.
He caught the man's ankle mid-strike.
There was a sharp crack.
The guard screamed.
Bone snapped instantly under Tamura's grip.
Then—
The heat came.
It surged through Tamura's hand, burning through the man's pants and searing into his skin.
The smell hit immediately.
Burnt flesh.
The other guards froze for half a second—
Then lunged.
"Hold him!"
They grabbed him, forcing his arms down, trying to pin him again.
Tamura's head snapped up.
His eyes burned.
And he shouted.
A raw, violent sound tore from his throat.
The chains around his wrists glowed—
Then melted.
Metal dripped to the floor.
The guards staggered back in shock.
For a moment—
No one moved.
Then chaos erupted.
They rushed him again.
And this time—
Tamura fought back.
It lasted all night.
The guards came in waves.
Trying to subdue him.
Trying to contain him.
But Tamura moved like something else entirely.
Wild.
Relentless.
Uncontrolled.
Every time they forced him down, he rose again.
Every time they struck him, the heat flared stronger.
The room itself began to change.
Stone blackened.
Metal warped.
The air thickened with heat and smoke.
By the time the night began to fade—
Tamura's body finally gave out.
His movements slowed.
His strength faded.
And at last—
They forced him back into chains.
This time thicker.
Heavier.
Unyielding.
The guards stood around him, breathing hard, battered and shaken.
None of them spoke at first.
They just stared.
Because what they had just fought—
Was not a child.
Then, finally—
They heard him.
A voice.
Low.
Hoarse.
Barely above a whisper.
"…Tamura…"
The guards exchanged glances.
Confused.
Uneasy.
The boy's head hung low, his body barely holding itself upright against the chains.
"…Tamura…"
He said it again.
Like he was testing the sound.
Like he was remembering something long forgotten.
For the first time—
He spoke his own name.
Word reached Vayra before she even returned to the estate.
Her carriage moved smoothly through the capital streets as one of the Mourncrest nobles spoke in hushed excitement, recounting the events of the night before—the outburst, the guards, the fire.
Vayra listened in silence.
Then she smiled.
"A child burned through metal?" she repeated softly.
The noble nodded. "Chains. Melted them completely."
Vayra leaned back against the velvet seat, her red eyes gleaming with quiet satisfaction.
"So… the boy does possess Verdance after all."
Her fingers tapped lightly against her armrest.
Fire property.
And strong enough to manifest under pressure.
How interesting.
How valuable.
A faint laugh escaped her lips.
"This is excellent."
At last—
She could begin.
Tamura was moved that same day.
No warning.
No explanation.
Chains still wrapped around his wrists, he was dragged from the lower levels and brought above ground. His head remained low, his body still aching from the night before.
The doors opened.
And for the first time—
He saw them.
The children.
His siblings.
All one hundred and seventy-two of them.
Watching.
But not the same way as before.
No anger.
No teasing.
No hatred.
Only fear.
They stepped back as he passed.
Some lowered their heads.
Others refused to meet his eyes.
Tamura slowed for just a moment.
This was the only place he had ever known.
The only place he had been told was his home.
And now—
They looked at him like he didn't belong there anymore.
Like he was something else.
Something wrong.
Tamura clenched his jaw.
He didn't like it.
He didn't like being a freak.
Being an outcast was one thing.
But this—
This felt worse.
He said nothing as they led him away.
Vayra's private manor stood apart from the rest of the estate.
Quieter.
Cleaner.
Far more controlled.
Tamura was taken inside and placed into a room without ceremony. The door shut behind him with a heavy click.
For a moment, he didn't move.
Then slowly, his eyes lifted.
The room was… nice.
Too nice.
Clean floors.
Soft lighting.
And a bed—large, layered with silky velvet sheets.
Tamura stepped closer, running his fingers lightly across the fabric.
It felt familiar.
The only time he had ever felt something like this… was when he had been made to sleep beside the Mistress.
But then—
He paused.
There were two beds.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
Strange.
He stepped back, scanning the room more carefully now.
That's when he noticed them.
Seals.
Faint markings etched along the walls.
The iron bars lining the windows.
Subtle.
But intentional.
This wasn't a room.
It was a cage.
"Yo."
The voice came from behind him.
Tamura jumped, spinning around instantly.
A boy stood near the entrance, leaning casually against the wall as if he had been there the entire time.
He looked older.
Maybe two years.
His skin was pale, almost sickly, and his red eyes carried a lazy, unfocused look—as if he hadn't slept in days. Long black hair fell around his face, streaked with strands of white.
But what stood out the most—
Were his arms.
Lean.
Defined.
Wrong.
Too strong for someone his size.
Tamura's eyes narrowed slightly.
Is he… a goliath?
The boy chuckled.
"Relax," he said, grinning. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
He pushed himself off the wall, stepping closer.
"Didn't think they'd throw someone like you in here."
Tamura didn't respond.
Didn't move.
The boy laughed again.
Actually laughed.
Right in his face.
It wasn't cruel.
It wasn't hateful.
But something about it—
Set Tamura off.
He had been beaten.
Mocked.
Spit on.
Broken.
None of that had ever felt like this.
But this?
This irritation—
This sudden heat rising in his chest—
It was different.
Tamura didn't understand it.
Didn't care to.
His body shifted slightly.
A half-formed stance.
Unrefined.
But ready.
The boy's grin widened.
"Oh?"
He rolled his shoulders, clearly amused.
"Alright then."
His voice dropped just slightly.
"Let's do it."
He took a step forward, cracking his neck.
"Make it worth my time."
His grin sharpened.
"We're missing dinner for this."
Tamura didn't hesitate.
He moved.
Fast.
Straight toward him.