Chapter 54:

  Closing Perspectives (4 of 5)

  As the sun sank low over the freshly cut fields of wheat, Huestes Garner lowered himself onto a worn stool outside the barn. He packed his pipe with dried reeds, struck a light, and drew in slowly until the smoke bit the back of his throat. When he exhaled, it rolled from his lips in a steady stream, curling around him before fading into the evening air.

  Huestes stared out listlessly over the fields, watching the last slivers of light disappear as the sun slipped behind the horizon.

  The harvest had been good this year, so much so that it should’ve brought the farmer peace.

  But peace wasn’t something he’d had much of lately.

  It had been over three span since Samuel had left home, and nothing felt as it should. The house was quieter, the work was harder, and the warmth of their family was all but gone. Merrium hadn’t spoken much to Huestes over the past few weeks, and though Seth still completed his chores around the farm, he spoke as little as possible with his father before running off to spend time with that Johnson girl.

  His pipe crackled softly as he drew in another lungful of smoke, letting the bitter reeds settle in his chest and coat his tongue.

  Until this season, Samuel had been at Huestes’s side through every harvest. He wasn’t simply an extra set of hands. He was the laughter in the mornings, the voice calling from the fields, and no matter how old Sam had gotten, Huestes could still see the boy who beamed with pride as he bundled his first bushel of wheat.

  Of all the bitterness Huestes had carried through the latter half of his life, Samuel had been a sweetness. One that was noticeably absent now, as he sat alone across from the empty stool he’d shared with his son only a few weeks ago.

  As they always did in the quiet, his thoughts began to spiral. The warmth of his memories were pulled apart piece by piece as the bitterness inside him rose up to poison even these treasures he held inside himself.

  Not wishing to face the rising tide of emotion inside himself, Huestes stood abruptly and made his way back through the dark toward the dim light of the house.

  As he passed the kitchen window, he glanced inside and quickly stepped away, as if the sight had burned him.

  Merrium sat alone at the table, shoulders trembling as she worked a needle through one of Samuel’s shirts he’d left behind. The lantern beside her threw a soft glow across her hands, and every time she pulled the thread tight, her sobs came quietly, swallowed down before they could fully escape.

  Huestes stood there for a long moment, just outside the window, clenching his jaw so tight it ached. For weeks now, he’d done his best to avoid Merrium, throwing himself into the harvest as if work alone could outrun what he’d done.

  Now, however, every stalk of wheat had been gathered, and there was nowhere left to hide. He could no longer put off the conversation that had been waiting for him inside that house. He drew a slow breath through his nose before stepping through the back door into the kitchen.

  Merrium didn’t turn to greet him, or even look up when he entered the room as she had always done over their many years together. She simply kept sewing, shoulders trembling as tears slid down her cheeks and fell onto the fabric in her lap.

  Huestes hesitated in the doorway, then took a step closer.

  Merrium’s needle paused. The thread drew tight between her fingers until it trembled.

  “Merr,” Huestes said quietly as he moved another step closer.

  Merrium’s head snapped up.

  “Don’t you Merr me!” she hissed, her voice sharp as steel. She stood so fast her chair scraped against the floor, and the shirt slipped from her lap and fell onto the boards at her feet. “It’s your fault he’s gone, Huestes. Yours. Not Sam’s. Not your brother’s. Yours. And it is taking all I have to even share the same roof with you after how you treated our son! Our son! YOUR SON, Huestes!”

  Huestes didn’t raise a hand or his voice to defend himself. He knew he had made a mess of things, and truthfully… it was almost a relief to hear someone say it out loud.

  He took a step forward and reached out a hand toward the table.

  Merrium flinched.

  It was only the smallest amount, only for a heartbeat, but it hit Huestes harder than any accusation ever could.

  He froze, his hand hovering uselessly in the air as his stomach twisted. He had never once laid a hand on his wife, not even in their worst arguments, but the betrayal of what he’d done to Samuel had wounded her so deeply that even this small movement made her flinch away from him.

  Slowly, like he was approaching a startled horse, Huestes lowered himself and reached for the shirt that had fallen onto the floor instead.

  “This shirt always was too big for him,” he said quietly, lifting it closer to his face as if the scent of it might bring his boy back for just a moment.

  Huestes stared at the shirt, unmoving. He didn’t even realize he was crying until the tears began to patter against the fabric.

  Merrium watched him for a long moment as he held the shirt to his face. The fury in her expression wavered, just for a heartbeat, as the patient love she’d built for him over their past twenty cycles held firm despite the strain.

  She knew the man she had married, flaws and all. She had accepted him, loved him, and bound her life and her Path to his, knowing full well the hurt he carried inside towards his father and his brother.

  However, despite her longing for their family to be whole again, she didn’t allow herself to coddle him.

  Because tears couldn’t change what had been done.

  “If you miss him,” she said quietly, her voice shaking, “then do something about it, Huestes Garner.”

  She stepped closer, not touching him. Not yet. Her eyes flicked to the shirt in his hands.

  “Don’t stand here crying over cloth,” she snapped, even as tears threatened at the corners of her eyes. “Write to him. Go to him. Speak to your damned brother if you have to.”

  She took another step closer, her eyes hard as stone even as they shone with fresh tears.

  “But You don’t come home,” she said, her voice low and shaking with the force of it, “not until you set this right. You hear me? I dont care how long it takes, but you straighten this out! For once in your damn life walk a path your proud of.”

  Huestes swallowed, his throat too tight to answer.

  So he nodded.

  For a moment, Merrium just stared at him, as if searching for any sign that this was another lie he’d tell himself. Then, finally, the fight seemed to drain from her shoulders.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him.

  Huestes stood frozen at first, almost like he didn’t remember how to be held. Then his arms came up slowly, folding around her as though he was afraid she might disappear if he held too tightly.

  Huestes had always known Merrium was a woman like no other. Even after all the hurt and damage he had caused, she was still willing to accept him. By that damned Path, she was giving him a chance to make this right.

  Because Merrium had never been blind to the ugliness in him.

  She had always seen it.

  And somehow… she had loved him anyway.

  They stood there in the kitchen holding one another for a long time before they finally separated. When the warmth of his wife’s embrace left him, Huestes began to make preparations to do whatever he needed to do to set this right.

  Huestes would be lying if he said he felt like a new man all of a sudden. The bitterness was still there, his anger bubbling quietly beneath the surface. But for the first time in his life, he found the resolve to confront it… rather than just wallow in it.

  Before he stepped out of the kitchen to begin making his preparations, Merrium handed him a tear-stained letter he hadn’t seen before.

  “It came this morning,” she said softly. “It’s from Sam. Seth has already read it, and I didn’t think you’d care to at the time.”

  She swallowed, then turned away as if she needed to move before she broke again.

  “I’ll pack your things while you read. You can leave first thing in the morning.”

  Huestes took the parchment with careful hands and sat down at the table. His eyes lowered to the page, scanning the unpolished script that could only belong to his son.

  Once he reached the end of the letter, Huestes let out a bitter laugh as his eyes fell on the small address Samuel had written at the bottom.

  That old ass is enjoying his retirement.

  “You’re a damned fool, Huestes Garner,” he said aloud to himself, leaning back in the chair with Sam’s letter still clutched in his hands.

  “Well, at least I didn’t have to say it,” a familiar voice answered from the kitchen doorway.

  Huestes turned to see Seth leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, staring at his father.

  “I’m coming with you,” Seth said. “He’s my brother and…”

  Huestes raised a hand, cutting him off before that quick tongue of his could run away.

  “Seth,” he said firmly, “I need you here with your mother. This was my mistake. And the farm can’t be left unattended while I’m away.”

  Seth boiled over with frustration and shoved himself off the doorframe, stalking toward his father with his fists clenched at his sides.

  “What right do you have to say that to me?” he snapped. “Sam would still be here if it wasn’t for you! You’ve never once bothered explaining why you did what you did, or even anything about Uncle Lucian.”

  Huestes did his best to keep his temper under control in response to his son’s behavior. His first instinct was to raise his voice, maybe even his hands if it came to that, just as his father had always done. Yet he didn’t. Instead choosing to embrace the clarity he’d found moments ago, he did something very unlike himself.

  He chose to sit and explain.

  Huestes lowered himself back into the chair and motioned toward the one across from him.

  “Seth,” he said with a tired sigh, “sit down and let me explain what I can.”

  He held his son’s gaze, steady and firm.

  “Afterward, I’ll need your word that you’ll take care of things here while I’m away. If you want to leave one day, then do it after your Choosing. Even if you’re angry with me now, which you have every right to be… I need you to stay.”

  Seth looked utterly perplexed by his father’s reaction. He’d expected this to escalate. A fight. Shouting. Something he could throw his anger at.

  Instead, Huestes had stolen the wind from him.

  So Seth did as he was told. He sat down across from his father and stared at him, waiting, as Huestes finally began to speak about his history with Lucian.

  Huestes sat in silence for a long moment, gathering his thoughts. He hadn’t allowed himself to look at these memories in years, and now, with Seth sitting across from him, he found it harder than he expected to drag them into the light.

  As he prepared to speak, he realized he didn’t know how to tell the story without bitterness slipping into every word.

  “I’m not sure where to start,” Huestes said as he began to pack his pipe once again. “Seth… what do you know about your grandfather?”

  Seth considered for a moment before responding.

  “Well,” he said slowly, “every story you’ve ever told me about him never sounds like a happy one.”

  Huestes nodded.

  “My mother returned to the Path the day Lucian and I were born. Having twins can be a risky thing. I don’t know the details exactly, but there were complications during the pregnancy, and she returned to the Path shortly after.”

  Huestes’ hands stilled briefly as he worked the reeds into his pipe.

  “My father said there’d been a healer present, but even so, they couldn’t stabilize her. All I truly remember from that time is my father’s bitterness… and the anger he carried toward Lucian and me.”

  Huestes sighed and lit his pipe.

  “Lucian and I were inseparable all our years together. We were identical twins, and there was never a day we weren’t side by side. We worked together. We endured that old man together. And we even had our Choosing Day on the same day.”

  The memory of that day began to burn within Huestes, and the bitterness rose once again in his chest. Even so, he continued anyway, forcing himself to take the next step.

  “There’s something I never shared with you or Sam,” he said quietly. “Truth is, I never cared much for teaching. I figured you boys would learn what you needed from working beside me, and the rest would come as you walked your Path after your Choosing.”

  Huestes drew from his pipe, eyes distant.

  “For most trades, it’s simple. Work hard, build the right habits, and you’ll earn the kind of Path you want when the day comes.” He shook his head once. “But we fall under Cultivation. And Cultivation doesn’t play by the same rules as those who swing around magic or swords.”

  Seth looked like he might ask a question, but Huestes stilled him with a raised hand.

  “I’m getting to it. Be still, son.” He drew from his pipe and let the smoke out slowly. “Paths in Cultivation deal with investment. The more time you put into it, the stronger it gets, whether it’s skills, abilities, or even the objects of our craft.”

  Huestes’ eyes stayed distant.

  “That’s true for every domain in one way or another. But for Cultivation, it’s generational. It gets passed down from parents to their children, and every generation builds upon what came before.”

  He drew from his pipe, then let the smoke out slow.

  “It’s a very slow process. A work carried out across lifetimes.” His jaw tightened slightly. “And above all else… that’s where our family mantra comes from. Family First.”

  He looked Seth in the eye.

  “It hinges on continuing the legacy of those who came before us.”

  Seth’s brow furrowed deeper. “That’s a lot of pressure to put on someone. If this is what bothered you so much, why didn’t you just tell Sam before his Choosing Day? He might have stayed if he’d known.”

  Huestes went still.

  For a long moment he didn’t answer. He just stared at the ember in his pipe, jaw working as if he were chewing on something too bitter to swallow.

  “Because I couldn’t,” he said finally.

  Seth blinked, thrown off by the honesty.

  Huestes’ eyes stayed distant, voice rough. “Because the moment I started explaining it… I would’ve had to talk about Lucian.”

  The words hung between them like smoke.

  “I didn’t want you boys carrying that,” he admitted. “And I sure as hell didn’t want to look at it myself.”

  He drew from his pipe again, slower this time.

  “So I kept you working. I kept you close. I kept quiet.” His mouth twisted. “And folks in town weren’t about to fill your head with it either. They all knew how I was about your uncle. No one wanted to be the one to stir that pot.”

  Huestes tapped ash out into the tray, expression dark.

  “And as for the Church…” he scoffed softly. “It ain’t what it used to be. They’ll teach you the basics, enough to keep you useful, but if you want anything more than that, you’d better have coin to fill their pockets.”

  His gaze lifted back to Seth.

  “So no. No one was going to sit you and Sam down and explain what your own father refused to.”

  Seth sat in silence for a long time after hearing those words. He didn’t seem to know what else to say, and when he finally spoke again it came out quieter than before.

  “So what happened on your Choosing Day?”

  Heat rose under Huestes’ skin. The old feeling of betrayal washed over him anew, sharp as ever. Yet, to his surprise, he managed to keep himself under control.

  “Your uncle and I talked beforehand about what Paths we might be offered,” he said. “And we came to an agreement. Even if we didn’t want to stay on the farm forever, we didn’t want to be separated.”

  His grip tightened around the pipe.

  “So when I went first… that’s what I chose. Path of the Farmer.”

  “Your uncle,” he continued, his voice roughening, “obviously chose differently. He left me here with a man I loathed, to work these fields alone… to carry everything alone…”

  Huestes’ eyes hardened.

  “And then he went off to become some famous hero of the kingdom.” His voice caught, then roughened. “You boys couldn’t have known any of this. So when Sam followed in the steps of your uncle… I felt that wound tear open all over again.”

  He swallowed, shame flickering across his face.

  “It felt like my own son had chosen my brother over me.” His grip tightened around the pipe. “And I know that wasn’t the truth of it. Sam was just… Sam. He didn’t do it to hurt me, but it still hurt nonetheless.”

  Seth sat quietly as he digested this before another question finally came to mind.

  “So… what Path did Uncle Lucian choose?”

  Huestes didn’t answer right away.

  His mind returned to that day. To the stage. To the moment he watched the light pour from his brother’s body as the Choosing took hold. He remembered the way the air had changed, and how the crowd had fallen quiet.

  Gold smoke had bloomed within the Choosing Stone, thick and radiant.

  Huestes remembered the Head Priest’s voice, calling it out for all to hear.

  Domain: Divine. Path of the Reaper.

  It was the same Domain Samuel had chosen, though the Path was different.

  And it was the same Domain Huestes himself had rejected.