Evelyn pov
Father didn't return until late that evening. By then, the house was quiet—Marcus had gone home, and Lina had been sent off by her own mother. Avery was already asleep in Mother's arms, her tiny breaths steady and peaceful.
When Father finally pushed open the door, he set down his hunting bow by the wall and rubbed his brow. His gaze immediately fell on me.
"Evelyn." His voice was steady, but I caught the weight in it. "Come outside."
I obeyed, following him into the cool night. The moonlight painted silver outlines across the yard. But Father's next words surprised me.
"Bring Marcus and Lina as well. They should hear this too."
A short while later, the three of us stood in the yard, shifting awkwardly under Father's stern gaze.
"I heard what happened today," he began. "You encountered a stage three bandit. Evelyn defeated him, and the three of you carried him back here." His eyes swept across all of us. "That was brave. But also reckless."
Marcus frowned. "Reckless? But Evelyn beat him—she made it look easy."
Father shook his head firmly. "That is exactly the problem. You children see the result, not the danger. The bandit was already wounded, and Evelyn relied on brute force. Against a healthy opponent—or worse, several—things could have ended very differently."
He turned to me then. "Do you know why I say it was reckless?"
I swallowed, then answered, "Because I attacked head-on without thinking of other options."
A small nod. "Good. You're learning." His tone softened. "Evelyn, you are strong, stronger than most your age. But strength without thought leads to ruin. Next time, you must think before you strike. Control the battle, don't just throw yourself at it."
I bowed my head. "I understand, Father."
To my surprise, he smiled faintly. "Good. I do not scold because I'm angry, but because I want you alive. Remember that."
The words warmed me. I wasn't ashamed at all—in fact, I was grateful. My father wasn't tearing me down, he was teaching me how to stand taller.
Marcus clenched his fists at his sides, his usual easy smile nowhere to be seen. "I… I thought we were safe here. That bandits wouldn't dare come so close." He looked at me, determination flashing in his eyes. "If Evelyn wasn't there, I couldn't have stopped him. I need to get stronger. I don't want to just stand by next time."
Lina was quiet for a long moment, hugging her book against her chest. Her voice was soft when she finally spoke. "It scared me. Watching someone swing a weapon at us like that. But… Evelyn's right. If danger can come here, then it can come anywhere. I don't want to be helpless when it does."
Father looked between them, then gave a small approving nod. "Good. You've learned something today. All three of you. Strength is not a shield against danger, but preparation can be."
---
That night, long after Father dismissed us, I lay in bed replaying the fight in my mind. My reckless charge. My fist breaking his wrist. My punch knocking him cold.
What if I had done it differently?
I pictured forming a spear first, sending it flying to distract him. While he focused on that, I could've slipped to his side, struck his kidney, then followed with a punch to his face. Cleaner. Safer. Smarter.
I exhaled slowly, realizing my mistake. I had won—but victory didn't mean perfection.
For the first time, I understood: even a victory could be a lesson.
And I swore to myself—I would learn.