Evening came, and Aeron walked home slowly. He was dragging his feet as if the ground were heavier than usual. His head was full, no, it was overflowing, with everything Nyella had said.
He entered their hut and closed the wooden door behind him. The place was quiet. He sat down on a small stool and rested his arms on his knees, then stared at the floor as he was lost in thought.
If I use Draco, people will see him. They'll fear me. They'll talk. They might even come after us.
But then again...
If I don't… if we lose this war… if the invaders push past the soldiers and reach the village… they'll find Draco anyway. And they won't hesitate to kill him. Or worse, use him.
His thoughts fought each other. Every reason not to act was met with a stronger reason why he had to.
That night, sleep didn't come. Not even for a minute. Aeron just lay on the floor, staring at the wooden ceiling of their home. His eyes were wide open in the dark.
