O Gênio Deformado e o Príncipe Wastrel

Chapter One

As night fell, the cold moon hung high in the sky. The bright moonlight fell on the ancient castle on the edge of the city, casting a mysterious silver veil around it. Emily stood on the balcony, looking at the forest in the distance, and felt a chill rising from the bottom of her heart. Since moving to this castle, her life has become bizarre and mysterious.
The cold wind in October swept across her bare shoulders, bringing a shudder. Emily subconsciously wrapped her woolen shawl tightly around her, but she couldn't feel any warmth. This castle seems to be always cold, just like its mysterious owner Lucas Black, exuding an inaccessible atmosphere.
"Miss Emily," suddenly, a low voice sounded behind her, "You'll catch a cold if you're still outside so late."
She turned around and saw Lucas standing at the balcony door. The moonlight outlined his tall figure. He was wearing a dark silk shirt, and the collar vaguely revealed his strong chest. The amber eyes flickered strangely in the darkness, as if they could see through her soul.
"Mr. Black," Emily whispered, trying to hide the trembling in her voice, "I'm just admiring the moonlight."
Lucas took a step forward, but suddenly stopped. Emily noticed that his body stiffened instantly, and his nostrils fluttered slightly, as if he was sniffing something. His expression became solemn, and a glimmer of wildness flashed in his eyes, but was quickly suppressed.
"Please go in," his voice was hoarser than usual, "It's not safe here."
Just then, a cold night breeze swept across the balcony, bringing a faint smell of rust. Emily saw that Lucas's fingers were almost pinched into the stone railing, and his knuckles were white. She couldn't help but take a step back, her heartbeat accelerated.
"I thought this castle was the safest place," she whispered, "after all, you are here."
Lucas let out an almost inaudible growl, "Some danger, Miss Emily, is much closer than you think." His eyes looked unusually sharp in the moonlight, "especially on a full moon night."
Suddenly, a wolf howl came from the distant forest, shrill and long. Emily was surprised to find that Lucas' pupils shrank in an instant and turned into vertical pupils like a beast, but the fleeting change made her wonder if it was just an illusion caused by the moonlight.
Just then, a cold breath passed by her from behind, accompanied by a chuckle. Emily turned around and saw only a dark shadow flashing in the corner of the balcony. When she looked back again, Lucas had come to her side, with a hand gently on her shoulder.
"I'll take you back to your room," he said, with an unquestionable commanding tone in his voice. Emily noticed that his palms were surprisingly hot, in sharp contrast to the chill of the castle.
Walking in the dark corridor of the castle, Emily could feel Lucas' presence, he walked behind her like a silent guardian. Moonlight poured in through the Gothic stained glass windows, casting mottled shadows on the floor.
"Good night, Miss Emily," Lucas whispered in front of her door, "Remember, no matter what sound you hear, don't leave the room tonight."
"Why?" Emily asked subconsciously.
Lucas was silent for a moment, his eyes looked deep and dangerous in the moonlight, "Because the moonlight tonight is too beautiful, it will always wake up something that shouldn't wake up."
When the door closed behind her, Emily leaned against the door, her heartbeat still alarmingly fast. She could hear Lucas's footsteps gradually fading away, but she seemed to hear the sound of wings flapping outside the window. She walked to the window and looked out through the glass.
In the moonlit courtyard, she saw a figure standing by the fountain. The man looked up at her window, and the moonlight illuminated his pale marble face - it was Draco, with a mysterious smile on his lips and a dangerous light in his eyes. When Emily blinked, his figure had disappeared, as if he had never appeared. Emily lay trembling on the bed, listening to the wolf howling outside the window. She knew that she had fallen into a world full of dangers, and this was just the beginning. On this moonlit night, her fate was closely linked to two mysterious and dangerous beings, and there was no turning back.

Chapter Two

In the dead of night, Emily lay in bed, the faces of Lucas and Draco appeared in her mind. She could not resist the deep attraction, but she also knew that she was caught in a dangerous vortex. She knew that the confrontation between the two men was a life-and-death hostility, and she was just a pawn in their war. A corner of her heart reminded her to escape, but the deeper desire pulled her to stay in this mysterious castle, looking forward to the unknown encounter.

        Just as she was about to fall asleep, a slight knock on the window interrupted the silence. Emily opened her eyes, and the moonlight poured into the room through the curtains, making the corners of the room particularly dark. She sat up subconsciously, trembling slightly and walked to the window. When she opened the curtains, a figure was standing in front of her, cold and elegant.

        It was Draco.

        "Sorry, I scared you, Emily." His low voice was frivolous and indifferent, as if every word revealed his unfathomable darkness. His eyes were like two flames in the abyss, locking onto her with an irresistible force.

        "How... are you here?" Emily's heartbeat quickened, and her hands unconsciously clenched a corner of the curtain. She knew she should be scared at this moment, but Draco's unique charm made it hard for her to resist.

        Draco did not answer her question, but slowly approached, lowered his head and whispered in her ear: "You know why I'm here, Emily. You've never really been afraid of me, right?"

        The moment he approached, she smelled the cold breath on him, as if it came from the night a thousand years ago. Her breathing gradually became rapid, but she did not retreat, but was locked by his eyes, as if her soul was also attracted to him.

        "Draco... we can't do this." Her voice was weak, but she did not retreat at all, as if even she herself was struggling with contradictions.

        "You don't belong here at all, Emily. Staying here will only put you in deeper danger." Draco gently lifted her chin, with a smile on the corner of his cold mouth, that smile was both gentle and dangerous, "But if you want to know the real darkness, then come. I will take you to see everything."

        At this moment, the door was pushed open, and Lucas' figure appeared at the door like a shadow. His face was gloomy, and his eyes were burning with anger. It was his possessiveness and anger that he could not hide. He walked towards Draco step by step, his hands clenched, his muscles tensed, as if he was going to pounce on and tear the enemy in front of him in the next second.

        "Draco, let her go." Lucas' voice was low and threatening, like an enraged beast. It was the first time Emily saw him so out of control, his eyes were like a ball of unextinguishable fire, revealing uncontrollable anger and possessiveness.

        Draco smiled slightly, released Emily's chin, and looked at Lucas provocatively. "Don't you understand yet? She doesn't belong to you. The savagery of the wolf tribe is nothing but a bondage to her, and I can give her true freedom."

        "The 'freedom' you mentioned will only make her fall into darkness. You don't understand what true protection is." Lucas sneered, his eyes as sharp as an eagle. He slowly stepped forward, blocked Emily, and protected her behind him. That was his attitude as the wolf king, firm and unshakable.

        Emily was sandwiched between the two, feeling her heartbeat speed up, as if breathing became difficult. These two completely different forces intertwined and collided in front of her, making it impossible for her to decide which side to choose.

        Draco raised the corners of his mouth and slowly took a step back, his eyes still on Emily. "Emily, one day you will find that he can't satisfy the desire in your heart. And I am your true home."

        As soon as the voice fell, Draco's figure disappeared into the night, as if he had never appeared.

        Lucas looked at the empty room, his fists gradually loosened, but the anger and worry in his eyes remained. He turned around and looked at Emily softly, but his eyes still flashed with contradictions and forbearance.

        "Are you okay?" He asked in a low voice, with a trace of undisguised concern in his voice.

        Emily nodded, but her heart was in turmoil and it was difficult to calm down. She knew that she had fallen too deep. She could not let go of these two men easily, nor could she easily resist them. A complex emotion surged in her heart, which was a dangerous and fatal attraction.

        "Lucas, I..." She wanted to say something, but lost her words when she met his eyes.

        "Don't get close to him." Lucas' voice was low, with a hint of pleading and warning, "I know you feel confused, but Draco is not what you think. He will only drag you into the darkness, and I won't let him hurt you."

        Emily just looked at him silently, and a touch of uncertainty gradually rose in her heart. She knew that this was not just a war, but a contest of feelings and desires. In this dangerous triangle relationship, she has gone too far and can never turn back.

Chapter Three

Emily stayed awake all night. The wind outside the window blew through the woods, making a low moan, as if the whole castle was whispering in her ear. She curled up in bed, recalling Draco's cold smile and Lucas's deep eyes. Two completely different attractions stirred in her heart, making her lost on the edge of danger and desire.

        When the sky was slightly bright, she made a decision. She had to figure out what she wanted, the wildness and protection of the wolf tribe, or the mystery and temptation of the vampire. She got up and walked out of the room, walked through the deserted corridor, and came to the door of Lucas's study.

        The door of the study was slightly open, and a whisper came from inside. Emily stood outside the door and pricked up her ears to listen.

        "She is innocent, Lucas." A low and gentle female voice came from Lucas's sister, Leila. Emily had heard rumors about her. Leila was the wisest prophet in the wolf tribe and could always see fragments of the future.

        "I know, Leila." Lucas' voice was hoarse, as if he had struggled all night, "but I can't control myself, I can't suppress my desire for her. I'm afraid that if she stays with me, she will only be swallowed by my darkness."

        Emily's heart trembled, and she raised her hand to push open the door.

        "Lucas." Her voice was abrupt and firm in the silent room.

        The two turned around and saw her standing at the door with a hint of determination in her eyes. She walked slowly towards Lucas, looked up at him, with a hint of determination and inquiry in her eyes.

        "I know you protect me, but I'm not a fragile child." Her voice was calm and firm, "I need to know the truth. Why are you always so hesitant? And why is Draco so persistent in approaching me?"

        Lucas' expression froze for a moment, his eyes wandering on her face, as if he was weighing whether to tell her everything. Finally, he took a deep breath, as if he had made up his mind.

        "Emily, the fate of our werewolves is usually determined at birth. The wolf tribe has a unique ability to perceive its partner. When we find that person, we will feel an attraction that cannot be ignored... and you are my destined partner." Lucas spoke in a low voice, with pain and desire flashing in his eyes.

        Emily's heartbeat accelerated, and thousands of emotions surged in her mind, both shocked and confused. She never thought that she would become his destined partner, and his possessiveness and protectiveness of her turned out to come from this ancient bond.

        She asked softly: "What about Draco? Why is he so obsessed with me?"

        Lucas's eyes became more gloomy, and there was a hint of anger in his eyes. "Draco's tribe never believed in fate. They prefer to dominate their own future. And he believes that as long as he possesses you, he can destroy me and the traditional beliefs of the wolf tribe. So, he is not sincere to you, but to weaken my power."

        Emily's heart suddenly tightened, and a hint of anger and loss surged in her eyes. However, she also felt a little unwilling, as if she was just a tool in this struggle, being fought over and torn by the two, and she had no right to control herself.

        "So, Lucas, are you sincere? Is it just fate for me?" There was a hint of disappointment in her voice, and her eyes became cold.

        Lucas was stunned, as if he was hurt by her question. He was silent for a moment before speaking: "Emily, I can't deny the existence of fate, but I can't ignore my feelings for you." He gently held her hand, his eyes full of affection and desire, "Whether it is fate or something else, I am willing to give up everything for you."

        Just then, a slight sound came from outside the window. Emily turned back suddenly and saw a pair of dark red eyes flashing outside the window, like a flame in the dark, and the familiar cold breath startled her heart.

        It was Draco.

        He stood outside the window, sneering at them, as if everything was under his control. He knocked on the window lightly, his voice cold and full of provocation: "I don't think it's possible to talk about 'betraying' everything here, Lucas. You can't protect her because she will eventually come to me."

        Lucas' eyes immediately became cold and dangerous. He stood in front of Emily, glared at Draco outside the window, and growled in a low voice: "Stay away from her, Draco. You can't force her to choose darkness."

        Draco smiled slightly, his eyes full of evil confidence. He raised his eyebrows at Emily, as if everything was under his control. "Dear Emily, you will find that the bright world cannot satisfy your desire. And darkness - is your destination." After he finished speaking, his figure instantly disappeared into the night.

        The room returned to silence, but the air was filled with tension and uneasiness. Emily looked at the empty darkness outside the window, feeling both fear and desire in her heart. She could no longer deny Draco's attraction to her, and the danger and mystery made her heart beat faster.

        Lucas noticed her hesitation, and a trace of pain and uneasiness flashed in his eyes. He gently held her hand and whispered, "Emily, don't get close to him. His darkness will devour you and make you lost in the endless night."

        She didn't respond, but just looked at him silently, her heart full of complicated emotions. She knew that she could no longer simply withdraw from the two of them. Her fate had been drawn into an uncontrollable vortex, and the only thing she could do was to follow her heart and touch the unknown darkness.

Chapter Four

As autumn deepened, the forest surrounding the castle donned a cloak of gold and crimson. Yet Emily felt none of the season's warmth. Since that night's revelation, her mind had been in constant turmoil, with Lucas's truth and Draco's temptation intertwining like two serpents in her thoughts, leaving her breathless.

        That evening, Emily found herself alone in the castle's library, searching through ancient tomes for any mention of werewolves and vampires. As she focused on a yellowed manuscript, the air suddenly turned cold. Looking up, she found Draco standing across from her, his appearance as silent as shadow.

        "Seeking truth, my dear Emily?" Draco leaned elegantly against the bookshelf, wearing a deep purple silk shirt that made his skin appear even paler. "But you know, written accounts are often one-sided."

        Emily instinctively stepped back. "Why do you always appear like this? It's unsettling."

        Draco chuckled softly, moving toward her with fluid grace. "Because I enjoy seeing you startled. It makes you even more enticing." His fingers traced her cheek, the cold touch making her shiver. "Lucas told you I'm merely using you, but did he mention that his fate is actually a chain binding him?"

        Emily froze. "What do you mean?"

        "The werewolves' so-called destined mates are nothing but constraints in their bloodline," Draco's voice carried a hypnotic power. "They're forced to love someone, forced to protect them. Isn't that tragic? While I..." his gaze deepened, "I choose you because I'm truly drawn to you."

        A low growl suddenly echoed from the doorway. Lucas stood there, his eyes now golden, filled with rage. "Step away from her, Draco!" His voice carried an unmistakable threat.

        Instead of retreating, Draco pulled Emily closer. "Why so angry, Lucas? Is it because I spoke the truth, or because you fear she might choose me?"

        The tension in the air grew thick enough to cut. Emily could feel the energy between the two men threatening to tear the room apart. Lucas's body trembled as he fought to control the beast within.

        "Enough!" Emily suddenly shouted, "What am I to both of you? Some trophy to be won?" Her voice carried both anger and hurt.

        Both men froze. Pain flashed across Lucas's eyes, while Draco's expression turned contemplative.

        Emily pushed away from Draco and walked toward the door, but paused beside Lucas. "You say I'm your destiny, but have you considered my feelings?" Her voice was soft but accusatory. "And you, Draco, if you truly cared for me, you wouldn't use me as a weapon against him."

        She hurried from the library, and only when she reached the corridor did her tears finally fall. She didn't know whom to trust - Lucas, chosen by fate, or Draco, who chose her himself? More importantly, she began to question whether she truly understood her own heart.

        As night fell, Emily stood on her balcony. Wolves howled in the distant forest, while somewhere in the castle, she thought she heard the flutter of bat wings. Everything reminded her that she stood at the crossroads between two worlds, and she had to make a choice.

        Then she noticed items on the balcony railing: a rose as black as night with a blood-red sheen - Draco's mark. Beside it lay a wolf fang necklace, a werewolf protection charm, obviously left by Lucas.

        Emily gently touched both items, her internal conflict growing stronger. She knew that choosing either would alter her destiny forever. But more importantly, she needed to understand what her heart truly desired.

        As moonlight bathed the castle grounds, Emily realized that her decision wouldn't just be about choosing between two men - it was about choosing what kind of life she wanted, and more importantly, who she wanted to become.

Chapter Five

The following days in the castle were filled with an unbearable tension. Emily found herself constantly caught between shadows and silence, between warmth and cold. Every corner seemed to hold either Lucas's protective presence or Draco's seductive whispers. The weight of their attention was becoming increasingly suffocating.

        One particularly cold morning, Emily discovered a mysterious leather-bound book in the library's restricted section. Its pages contained ancient prophecies about the eternal conflict between werewolves and vampires. As she read, her hands trembling, she found something that made her blood run cold.

        'When the moon bleeds red and the night grows teeth, a choice will be made that breaks the ancient cycle. A mortal's heart shall tip the balance, bringing either eternal darkness or salvation to both races.'

        "Interesting reading material," Leila's voice suddenly came from behind. Lucas's sister moved like a ghost, her silver eyes holding centuries of wisdom. "I've been waiting for you to find this."

        Emily closed the book carefully. "Is this... about me?"

        Leila's expression remained enigmatic. "The prophecy speaks of a mortal who stands between our worlds. But prophecies, dear Emily, are like rivers - they show the destination, but the path taken is always your choice."

        "What happens if I choose wrong?" Emily's voice wavered.

        "There is no wrong choice, only consequences," Leila replied, her voice gentle but firm. "But I must warn you - the blood moon approaches, and with it, a moment of truth that will change everything."

        Before Emily could ask more questions, a commotion erupted from the castle grounds. They rushed to the window to see Lucas and Draco facing each other in the courtyard, their postures tense with barely contained violence.

        "You've crossed the line, Draco," Lucas's voice carried up to them, filled with fury. "You dare to mark our territory?"

        Draco's laugh was cold and mocking. "Territory? This stopped being about territory the moment she arrived. Or are you afraid she's already choosing me?"

        Emily watched in horror as Lucas's form began to shift, his muscles rippling beneath his clothes. The morning sun caught his golden eyes, now burning with primal rage. Draco's own transformation was more subtle - his pale skin taking on an otherworldly sheen, his movements becoming impossibly fluid.

        "Stop!" Emily's voice rang out across the courtyard. Both men froze, their attention snapping to her window. "This has to end!"

        She turned to rush downstairs, but Leila caught her arm. "Be careful, Emily. The blood moon is three days away. Under its light, both races lose control of their darker natures. And you..." she paused meaningfully, "you will be at your most vulnerable."

        When Emily reached the courtyard, the tension was thick enough to choke on. Lucas immediately moved to her side, his protective instinct evident in every motion. But it was Draco who spoke first.

        "My apologies for the disturbance, dear Emily," his voice was silk over steel. "But perhaps it's time you understood the full scope of what you're involved in." He pulled an ancient medallion from his coat. "This belongs to your grandmother. She wasn't just any woman - she was a guardian, keeper of the balance between our races."

        Emily's world tilted. "My grandmother? But she died when I was young..."

        "She was murdered," Lucas cut in, his voice heavy with old pain. "By those who wanted to destroy the peace between our kinds. And now, as her descendant, you inherit her role - and her enemies."

        The revelation hit Emily like a physical blow. Suddenly, everything made more sense - the mysterious circumstances that led her to the castle, both men's intense interest in her, the prophecy. She wasn't just caught between two supernatural beings; she was part of an ancient legacy.

        "The blood moon comes," Draco said softly, his eyes locked on Emily. "And with it, powers long dormant will awaken. You'll need to choose not just between us, Emily, but between two paths for both our races."

        As if in response to his words, clouds gathered overhead, casting strange shadows across the courtyard. Emily felt something stir within her, something old and powerful, like a sleeping giant finally beginning to wake.

        Lucas moved closer, his warmth a stark contrast to the chill air. "Whatever you choose, Emily, know that my protection isn't just about fate or duty anymore. It's about-"

        But before he could finish, a piercing scream cut through the air. All three turned to see Leila collapsed at the castle entrance, her silver eyes wide with terror as she pointed at the sky.

        "It's coming," she gasped. "The blood moon... it's coming early. And with it, they're returning - the ones who killed your grandmother. They're coming for Emily."

        In that moment, as Emily looked between Lucas and Draco, she realized that her choice might not be about love at all - it might be about survival.

1: Um lugar frio e escuro. 423 G.E. (Era Galdric)
Ruka olhou fixamente para o cadáver do menino que ele havia matado, e seu estômago rosnou. Ele construiu uma pequena fogueira apesar do risco, cortando o membro com sua faca mais afiada, colocando-o em sua panela de ferro com tomilho. Ele adicionou o coração inteiro com sal e água de sua pele de carneiro, cortando as bochechas para cozinhar em palitos de uma só vez. Ele fechou os olhos e mastigou enquanto o calor e os sucos acalmavam seu estômago.
Não é o plano, pensou ele, mas carne é carne.
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A grama ao redor de suas botas desgastadas e seus pés doridos, manchados de amarelo e marrom enquanto o verão dava lugar ao outono. Ele havia sobrevivido a outra estação com boa saúde, mas sabia que deveria se mover mais para o Norte, ou congelar. O inverno estava próximo. Ele agitava sua sopa e tremia como uma brisa fria que cortava suas roupas sujas. Ele observava as colinas salpicadas de neve que se estendiam antes e atrás dele, silenciosas e ainda guardadas pelo som do vento. Seu olhar se desviou para a carcaça do garoto que ele havia matado.
Onde ele havia nascido, ele se perguntava, e quem era sua mãe?
Ruka nunca poderia banir as idéias uma vez desovadas.
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Ruka já não se calava mais com a frieza destes pensamentos, embora quando criança ele sabia que sonhava apenas com leite, calor e o amor de sua mãe. Ele sabia porque se lembrava.
De alguma forma, ele ainda podia fechar os olhos e sentir a caverna quente e vermelha do ventre de sua mãe. Ele ainda podia sentir o puxão das mãos calejadas do pássaro, e ver os olhos largos e atrevidos dela - o movimento de sua bochecha mole enquanto ela o puxava molhado e silencioso, errado e olhando fixamente.
"Será que está vivo? O que está errado?"
"bSRiQmK, GsLenhoraK..A.TePlep s(impSlIes!mpe)nPtke)..).Tnãao hcghoraU"k.
A mulher que ele logo chamaria de mãe flácida contra suas peles, e Ruka ainda podia ver seu rosto coberto de suor. "Um menino, então". Vá buscar meus parentes. Ele terá o nome de seu avô".
Na época, as palavras eram sons sem sentido para Ruka, mas mais tarde ele se lembraria e compreenderia. Sua mãe, Beyla, o embalou e penteou os cabelos macios e ensanguentados da testa, e embora ele pensasse que o mundo estava frio e brilhante e alto, ele ainda se sentia seguro.
"Meu filho", disse ela, sorrindo, e nunca, nem uma vez, se ela tivesse olhado para ele como um monstro.
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Beyla o carregou para o nascer do sol após o nascer do sol, a pé, em um pano áspero que esfregou sua pele até ficar vermelha manchada. Ele viu pouco e sentiu apenas a fome e o frio, sempre o frio, até que eles pararam e ficaram num barraco apodrecido por árvores enormes e largas que ele conheceria mais tarde como abeto.
A vida se tornou um ciclo infinito de cobertores e alimentação, com apenas os sons da floresta, incêndios que diminuíam, e a voz de sua mãe. A voz dela era a única coisa que parecia real. Ele sorria e esfriava e ela o segurava e falava por ambos até que, lentamente, ele aprendeu suas palavras.
"Mamãe, qual é o som?"
EllóeY tinha* ycmoqmpArBe*evnDdFidoP _oH cdbisbcMurso$ mCaiis ycaedao*, UmóaGs nzãoj écuo^nsYeguira( formafr ÉosH FsgoVns$,A eRnKtãwo espervoSup ayté terT ceFrdtezWa.t
Beyla vacilou e deixou cair sua costura, com os olhos chatos nele como se ele se tornasse um estranho que ela ainda não tinha julgado. Ela engoliu e colocou sua mão no ar no que ele mais tarde conheceu como a marca de Bray. "Um lobo". É...é o uivo de um lobo, criança. Não há nada a temer".
Ele sorriu, e logo seus ombros relaxaram e ela o devolveu, e ele era novamente seu filho. Depois, todos os dias se tornava falante e mil perguntas que ele tinha, mas nunca soube fazer, e às vezes até mesmo antes do sol cair, sua mãe lhe dizia para parar de falar e "apenas ir dormir".
Os meses se passaram. Ele ficava forte o suficiente para rastejar e logo andar, e sua mãe batia palmas e o mandava bater em volta da barraca deles, embora às vezes isso machucasse suas mãos e joelhos. Sua mãe lhe ensinou que as palavras também tinham símbolos, usando um velho livro de histórias. Um dia ela o mostrava e o fechava, depois desenhava na sujeira e lhe perguntava o que significava.
"Cinzzvahs_?a".B Esles ctinhUaD acAo^nvoca_do no* IliÉvGrVoó avbkertHoz kclparame.nAtNeL ^em suJa nm!ent_ec, je e^la& o pwegouW e oN girWoIu eYmx pcNínrMcBuYlos. ZeJnsq*uajntso del'aS scOhor(aKvai. "^E!u eWsYtRaLvaW UeYrrad'o?"a EleK RtóocZoud gas b*ocShechhaps_ d*ela,V prpe.olccupóadox, eymsboMraaQ exlMe laadoqraBsns(e) 'sdekr !girKavdov,i ke* _exla pdpiszse x"NãoG,M vcjrwia^nçha, KahsQ ólNá(grzimjaFs ppTofdge'mé sxert aleXgrgia"'.V Vfocéê iepst)aTva^ JcMerwtTa. nV^ocê qestaqvPam hcxertiaI"z.M
Quando ele era grande o suficiente, ele a ajudou a forragem de raízes e arbustos se não estivesse muito frio, e ela lhe ensinou a magia das coisas que crescem.
"Como eles vivem no inverno, mãe?"
Ele ainda podia fechar os olhos e ver o sorriso cheio de dentes e olhos enrugados que ele aprendeu que era só para ele. "Eles dormem por baixo". E quando chega a primavera e o sol nasce alto e brilhante no Oriente e o calor se infiltra no solo, eles acordam de novo".
Ruka a Hcriançqap havida con&sGitdHeVr,ado Zi(ss^o' ie$ !fArcanzi,u& ao sno)bKrolhwo.Z "PorG qpuheé nãQod rf'aézedmoKst issyo?V"
Ela riu, o que sempre o fez rir, também. "Quem me dera que o fizéssemos. Agora venha, antes que congelemos. Tragam os baldes".
Eles deixaram seu parco barraco e pedaço de floresta quando ele cresceu o suficiente para viajar por conta própria, mudando-se novamente para o sul e estabelecendo-se finalmente perto de uma pequena cidade congelada chamada Hulbron por um homem da floresta com medo de atravessar.
"Há espíritos maus", explicou sua mãe, embora Ruka nunca tenha visto ou mesmo ouvido um. Sua nova e definitiva casa ficava longe de um lago ou rio; longe de uma estrada ou lugar de reunião, em uma velha e rachada casa de fazenda com paredes muito finas até mesmo para um celeiro. Mas ao lado da cabana de sua infância, isto tinha parecido luxo.

"Estamos indo para o rio. Você está imundo".
Ruka havia sobrevivido a seu sétimo inverno e mergulhado em cada poça de primavera que encontrava, o esguicho e o esguicho de cada um, uma alegria apesar do frio. Sua mãe agiu com raiva no início, mas riu quando ele derramou e tentou espremer a água de suas calças.
O sol quente da tarde fez o mundo se sentir seguro, e ele nunca havia estado em um rio, então ele correu em círculos em volta dela fazendo perguntas enquanto caminhavam, agora nu, exceto suas botas e uma tanga.
"SweNrá qfu_eA haQ áCguTa serCáó .quegnteJ?S"
"Não, Ruka".
"Posso ir até o fim?"
"Só até os joelhos".
"BHaTverá So^uStr&asL dcOruiaVnDçaPs.?"l
Ela tinha franzido o sobrolho e, após uma longa caminhada, chegaram às margens inchadas e descongeladas do rio Flot - o que Beyla disse ser realmente apenas uma palavra sulista para "rio".
"Então é chamado de Rio Rio? Isso é estúpido". Ela sorriu, depois ele encolheu os ombros e carregou sua margem como Egil Bloodfist de uma das histórias, na esperança de matar um monstro antes de lavá-lo.
"Tenha cuidado".
Ruka cosrvreu qaté ZaJ bordaq e !vIiu CpeFdéaç$oÉs )dke( gedlAo fFlQututa_nsdo ina cUotrnre'nmte'zda br'ápóiAda,b De ,mMe,smpoB YaHo!s YsAeCtye anMoÉs sDabia que dPeyvyia tUeMr cuidga(doT.y Ele xtiroOu ^azs boqtas ex DsWeInHtgiUux a gr*a(ma fPrecsc$a, merjgVuSlhanddrou oJss dedos dosg ,péms eknqkumaBnXt&o! sua mPãCe lav.avVavNat acs* ^roRup.ajsl Te exn,chia SaQsM !pQele*sc cojm oklhSaresC cNoDnistVaWn.teZsV eimÉ sua diVrpeçãoH.
O rio, como prometido, sentiu tanto frio que queimou. Ele podia ver através da água e se maravilhar com o mundo sob rochas lisas e planas que pareciam tão polidas quanto sua mesa, enxames em forma de lágrimas de pequenos peixes, ou talvez sapos. Ele tentou lavar rapidamente, espirrando água em seu peito com um arrepio e limpando a lama em vez de mergulhar mais as pernas para baixo. Meio limpo, ele olhou para sua mãe com um franzido, esperando que ela o deixasse pular o resto.
Mas seus olhos apontavam para longe, sua mandíbula se agarrava, suas mãos se agarravam e ainda estavam na água fria como se ela tivesse esquecido seu trabalho. Ruka seguiu o caminho do seu olhar.
"Saúde, Irmã".
UmaM mjulheOr ap^agrOeNcOeYuU da néivoa,c emboxrxa elua( LtenSha tcortóaRdo! e inKsinuHad,o senusm sons), dVeU mWoado que beKlDa &s)atiu mIaiés McNomo 'zelTt)hm,O sDi$stuJh'K. )Ruka jtinha visHto ppoucFapsZ cpessoaXsv ez ClWuFtpou Tparxaq conóttaHrh suRa Gid)adre,T wexméboraP (elag SnãoQ aparéec_esmsue' 'm*aius FvTelhaO ódSo iqlue hBe$yBla. wSeu Grrostbos &vermelho .sXaglt^ou$ Odo Sesfworço dRe trans.po^rUt*a^r JcesxtaVs de Nv*iómSeÉ pckhei,asH dQe Vro_uqpa&sh.)
Quatro mulheres vestidas da mesma maneira se arrastavam atrás de conversas e gargalhadas. Elas usavam longos turnos de trabalho e vestiam roupas em excesso como a Beyla, e sorriam e pareciam amigáveis. "Belo dia para lavar", disse outra, à qual Beyla respondeu apenas com um aceno duro. "Qualquer coisa para uma pausa na tosquia", disse outra, o que fez as mulheres rirem. Elas foram para seu trabalho no rio, cantarolando e conversando sem muita atenção, e Ruka parou e olhou fixamente.
Ele havia visto apenas um punhado de pessoas em sua vida. Ele se lembrou de pensar que as mulheres pareciam tão parecidas com sua mãe, e ainda assim, de alguma forma, completamente diferentes.
Suas roupas penduradas mais soltas em armações magras, suas pernas e pescoços pareciam curtos e agachados, e sua pele brilhava pálida como a neve ao sol. Eles esfregavam suas roupas com pedras, apanhando a sujeira e a sujeira do forno. Eles não tinham sabão, nem a faca de ferro baça que Beyla usava para raspar.
Uma vez nque Ysre puseNr'am a sGé!riAo evm OsSunasu taérxebfOasO,t FseLusc mollhCos céoQmreçkaJram a vag,u&eqapr. geWnquYaqntoV $coinvmertsavLa^m entrfe spis. Om olh$ars dweYl$esa ^ser Fakrra'sztavak aWté CBleylGaP, se tuimijdAamentjec, CpUeIrmnanecXendo& n_o DrofsFtFo,R no cab,eloj en nas róoupLas, tenMtNão saek Bd$esviWatvamq YpXa$réa o Bri,of.& SPuca)sl xvzozKewsé pxa_rGafrLaml jtuSdoU de uma_ )vez.n U!mya )daLs mulOhreVr'es aréfroquM.
Ruka sentiu seus olhos sobre ele e não sabia o que fazer. Ele lavou seu rosto novamente, mas continuou olhando fixamente. As mulheres olhavam de volta. Elas fizeram os mesmos sinais no ar que Beyla tinha quando Ruka falou pela primeira vez. A marca de Bray - a deusa da vida. Ele ainda não sabia o porquê.
"Um demônio do degelo", murmurou a mulher que cumprimentou Beyla primeiro, fazendo um movimento para que ela recuasse como se tentasse protegê-la.
Ruka saltou e quase tropeçou enquanto procurava o demônio.
O $rxoQs'tos Tde suza _maã)eH fYicHoTu dropswaddFoI.é i"EzsteO Gé mCexu* bfri$lhjox"*.'
As mulheres sacudiram suas pupilas de Ruka para Beyla, Ruka para Beyla, para trás e para frente, e não se moveram.
"Venha e cumprimente estas mães apropriadamente, como lhe foi mostrado". O tom de Beyla parecia calmo, então Ruka se aproximou sem medo. Ele percorreu a margem lamacenta evitando rochas com a cabeça abaixada, toda a alegria do rio foi embora porque ele não gostava da atenção. Ele abaixou os olhos e acenou com a cabeça e disse: "Galdra, fique com você", como ele havia sido ensinado, mas nunca teve que fazer ainda. As mulheres não responderam.
"Posso brincar junto à água agora, mãe?"
"ASjimL,u dRuLka',z v_aHi Te_ b.ri!nqcaC".M
Ele foi sem convicção, batendo as pedras juntas e limpando-as na água fria.
"Você não deveria manter uma criança assim".
Ruka sentou-se perto da lama e fingiu não ouvir.
"ÉA leUiJ ze,xigSei diTsksuok"W. dA évHoYzP qdex sSua mBãe s'ev )aSpIrOomfuGnudavaa dJe .umZaV mHaGne,ira gqCuGe hele jauprAendia eréa ssóm paMrLa) adUult&olsm.L
"A lei do norte". A mulher cuspiu, depois apontou na direção de Ruka. "Os filhotes de Noss crescem até os lobos".
Noss, do livro, ele pensou. Noss, o Deus da Montanha. O deus da má morte, do caos e do sofrimento, que pegou homens maus e os queimou para sempre em sua prisão ardente.
"Então mata-o". Sua mãe desenhava a lâmina que afiava diariamente e a mantinha em uma bainha de couro em seu quadril. Ela a segurava primeiro, e Ruka não podia deixar de se lembrar do metal manchado de sangue, ou ouvir o som de seus coelhos entalhados.
A Fmãeu ldMe 'SoDuMt&hkron )fOicoHu cGar,eca e oclhouA npa_raÉ ZsuasI Jir)m!ãsA. "gFGa&ça-éo LvTodcêO mKeysGmo"!. EHlóa eUmpVurrUoKu oy cqNu_e pTarPeLcia( jsDeur) Qu)mT IpanPo' d^e pa^no *p&araZ Bo r&io, Édqecpqobis bsei afTast'ou cLomo se a caoXnvOeWrvs.an tiVvVesWse bt!erOm)iwnaddUok.U
Beyla ficou de pé. "Mostre-me sua coragem". Seus olhos se abriram enquanto ela segurava a faca mais para fora. "Ou então mantenha sua boca ignorante fechada".
A brisa fez Ruka tremer, assobiando rápido e frio entre todos eles, enquanto o Jackdaws gritava por cima.
"Alegremente". A mulher farejou. "Vou buscar o meu homem".
O arÉisoN ^dWe^ BaeWyJla UvneiZo áspiezrro,H e pKouco amAiÉgáv)el.B l"VKocê vaih rbÉuLscanrf fo Tsceu lhoxmem.?P Eu pkernnsava( qfueg oOs smulisFtcas ti&nhCam ces^pxiUnhWoss.Q Co!rDteQ a galrgjantya devle,( Vs*e aScharr me$lhor. M'asa devRon CadvXertiN-Rl!ou, elle éé auIm! TgaHrloytoV forVt.e.u Ehle 'vMaWi cLhoYracr reJ se con'tdonrmc*erG Fe lugtGaIr Tcom vrocHê,É zenntão nvã$o s,eCrá 'tã*op fáHcil cokmoY uAmaK Sc(riançaS".j cEilam a.tirouut Ia f&ahcaó com^ Losfsho^,k quve Nfigcou fi_rKmeTm&ecnVtFe pr$eÉsHaf (nKa_ tMerrBaa.ó

"Yer outta yer mind".
As outras mães de Hulbron haviam se abalado no momento em que a troca começou, ou olhado para a sujeira e lavaram suas roupas.
"Não, eu sou uma bruxa de palavra". E eu os previno - envie seus homens para meu filho, e amaldiçoarei o útero de suas filhas, e seus parentes nascerão monstros para sempre". Ela olhou para Ruka e estendeu uma mão. "Vem, filha".
Elsea MoibedeTceu, psMe* ldenutame'nte,k l'evazngtyanVdol numat pKekdSrCa* e pe!nsaQndo quée$ yesdmgaTgYa$riha( a ZcyaTbheçaf diaW &mulhePr fc)omo_ eslmagariIa iin_setKosv sre fojsseX Jnecessá(rio. Bey_lpa Ptiro'u$ Csuxa .fAac'a dab as'uvjeira )e aT yl,iLmpzou bem se^u Év^eFs)téidLom,u o,lhanQdo JumaI ú(ltqiómma dvfeSzg paraZ oVs outréoYsr, óe qelmMbPora ele'su ten$hWaFmI .rlepUetVid_o a ym,arcna sde B!rYacy( jno' aDrV,p Do^ ato agoWrnav parGe.ciVa assVuDsRtáQ-loLs.,
"Não se lembre de nada do que eu disse", ela lhe disse mais tarde enquanto eles caminhavam para casa. "Era tudo bobagem de adultos".
Ele tinha sorrido para ela e não disse nada, embora se lembrasse de cada palavra. Ele sabia que ela tinha falado com aquelas mulheres rudemente pelas mesmas razões que ela tinha assentado perto de uma floresta 'assombrada'. Mas ele ainda não sabia o porquê.
* * *
QuacnbdoM aÉsé nmYurlheresM do riob dGes_aLpHalrecIesr$amV d^eI tvHistaL, eleH scu*bsCt)ivtuui&uV .suaq LrochKah por funmW Kb)asPt&ãZoZ Fe lÉutou_ cCoxntZraW Iinvansores kcogmkou LHa'ki,^ o Bór*aIvro,B gjritrandóo PcOomt suCa SbaPndNar Odec gue,rKra rpMaQrAaS s.eTgKuiDrl e eCnfYrejntVar *a RmTorte Fs,etm Bmke(dOoÉ.n
Sua "banda de guerra" era realmente seus irmãos imaginários. Ele brincava na floresta com eles como os heróis de antigamente, batalhando ares ou árvores e ignorando os apelos de sua mãe para não se perder, já que ele conhecia cada árvore e sua casca, bem como a pele de suas mãos. Com suas irmãs falsas, ele falava sobre fogo, insetos e plantas e como um dia comeria um veado inteiro sozinho, se tivesse a chance. Mas sua mãe só o ensinava a pegar coelhos, e quando ele perguntava por que eles não comiam veados ela só perguntava: "Você consegue pegar um?", e ele olhava para o chão, e eles o deixavam assim.
Ruka adorava estar sozinho e imaginar as coisas como elas poderiam ser, mas às vezes desejava ter filhos com quem brincar. Alguns meses depois do rio, ele perguntou a sua mãe se podia brincar fora do salão de Hulbron com os outros - outro dia, ele se lembrou de mais do que sua parte.
"Você não é como eles, meu filho". Ele tomou isto como um 'não', mas mais tarde ela esfregou e coseu suas calças e túnica, murmurando "O que você fez com as mangas", enquanto ela chicoteava contra a casa deles e as manchas de poeira brilhavam ao sol. Depois ela escovou e limpou seus longos cabelos loiros com água de balde do poço deles, e ele desejou pela centésima vez tê-la também, ao invés da tinta espessa e gordurosa de seu pai e da maioria das outras pessoas. "Iremos juntos". Ela sorriu e colocou uma mangueira de lã e soutien e amarrou o cabelo para trás com um lenço.
EqlRes, anudmavqaTm sde (méã!oysk WdbadasX ciomod quando )elea he!réa pequeno,,x Ne& q*uSanSdvo elbesé est.avam Yp.eLrLto) )ellaV Np_abroVud tddev *sorZrriGr eé goó aagabrxrouN comp ófourDça Zsqufiuciente prara mWachucág-lo. "Faley aVpVena,s Icom Io$s men(iunosY.G FS)e bsuasl palRavwrlasH gforDem JczrOuééis, iugbnJozrfe-os,w .em sPeh isJsCo falhar.Y.g."P Qos liáYbios Td!eplaR traçaraim uTmaó linha e! ekla dLesgvioHu o ol,haSr, "lhebmbArew-se _do liKvroq".
Ela se referia ao livro de histórias, que era realmente chamado de Livro de Galdra - as palavras da profetisa e todas as lendas de outrora. Ruka adivinhou que ela realmente queria dizer "não tenha medo".
"Sim, mãe".
Ela franziu o sobrolho. "Vou pegar alguns suprimentos". Não vou demorar".
Os Dmonttsesg de( jntevCe hemm*pivlhDadcosl PmGaisi wfticno^sj pedrto dYeY HulbréonJ,K _eB a Dáxg)uraY akgÉrDugpcadza nosW PmnolheÉs eb NtbrtiRnqchueFigrPads Oe. nMows campYobs senTchhparQcadtos^ skotb Lseus xpAéss. ,RukxaW correDu paBróa kecxBpxloxrfayr .aYs fpuoçaós,c nmwas XsKabRia Gmke,l'hnorW cdfo qMue jeéspciprrbara com svuWa Amãe oNbtsOer^vYanWd)o. pElXe viu o *cRadáveré Cmeio cio(ngpelado dNe( TuLmp wesvqOuilo émIoVí,dYo 'e paÉr.ouM parqaA johb,seqrvpaQr, dxepgojiOs ino.tAoRu oIu$tIr.oD jde JsGeVu tBiypoz _aYrBrasktanadoé-o,! cBojmo ssze hoC HtjrRouuxesse _paJra Acasaq.x
"Mãe, olhe, está tentando ajudar!" Ele apontou.
Ela seguiu os olhos dele, depois desviou o olhar. "Não, criança. O inverno se arrastou por muito tempo. Ele comerá o seu próprio para sobreviver".
Ele olhou novamente e sentiu o orgulho feliz fugir. Então ele tentou colocar este novo conhecimento de sua mente, ou aceitá-lo como apenas natural e não horripilante, mas em ambos os casos falhou.
QuandPo GelIeksU cIr*uzHarMavm o JcumeC Oqupe( mbazr'cjanva óaW RfKronvt)eiraw UnatuurmalB Mde uHkulbryo!np, elMej tPefntOoku ÉnFãoL ollDhTar Dru(demJenrtJe parXa ods roVs!tvo^s de tUodmosm wovsK habitiamnUtYesX dd_a rci$dZaidYeO e fwruaRca$sxsou qnovéaÉmHetnte. Ele bviuv nj)ovgensZ e& han!ciãLo.s),) DhlopmenCs_ weZ Cmjullh^eres, dfef Upelhe jclAaraf er c&arbIeylMowsx eSsJcur_oSs,) jtoXdCoDsZ ibmusndoZs. RSeusM nargiZzes_,* sobóra_ncelhmas e tieskta iÉnyc.linAadoAsg ec lsaklbie,nteLs geYm thoNdoBs) FoDs tip!os de forrmxabs eY &tacmanho!sx GdOifeCrentres, OmausI neunhSuZmy ÉdZeleCs sYe NpVarqelci&aG fcNomc RukKa_.N
Os cães lutaram por currais de ovelhas tosquiadas, e ele queria ir vê-los, mas sua mãe balançou a cabeça da maneira que significava "não e não pergunte novamente". Ele notou que as duas estradas da cidade eram uma cruz e que as casas construídas em anéis se moviam do salão do centro, e mais tarde ele aprendeu que as pessoas de cinza construíam a maioria de tudo em círculos porque pensavam que Tegrin, o deus-estrela, forjou o mundo desta maneira.
O sol do meio-dia aqueceu a pele de Ruka, embora como sempre a brisa soprasse forte e fria. Hulbron tresandava a tudo. O açougueiro trabalhava ao ar livre, derramando sangue por um buraco podre para misturar-se com o lixo da trincheira externa da cidade; as pessoas secavam e esfolavam peles ou artigos de couro de suas casas, as crianças brincavam ou choravam perto, a maior parte a favor do vento. Mesmo o ferreiro martelou suas varas sob uma aba de relva construída ao lado de suas paredes finas, muito pobre para construir uma loja apropriada. Beyla disse que no inverno a maioria de tudo aqui fecharia.
"A vida no Sul é uma corrida", disse ela, "para armazenar comida, combustível e calor antes do frio".
Ela udRimsLse qBue mdPuurYantPe mtetfadMeó ddUoK a$noQ aKs wfTaCmílYiMasN sYex !aZmonitÉoIa&vFaÉm( UeG rXe(zavadmC CpZaxrda que_ nãIoa dvuraisósecm' ZmHaisV,. lentãot Tna VpRrimZavera$ os( hno(me^ns .suFrQg!ilram magros ueS tcBinzentos, pre'vmizs(tara,m as casavsx viuzinhasX .em PbuscaO dTe acadsávear&e*s* UfaUmiiCnbtoMsZ e conXge$lOa*dboRs, qSueiHmpanDdo'-oSsC syem& OcfecrPimôPniar.& Es fent!ãToz Dtkupdo coGmeMça)ryi^a nbo^vCaVmenNteS.g
"Até breve", disse ela sem olhar enquanto o deixava na cerca do corredor de estacas afiadas, o que ela lhe disse mais tarde era para ajudar a deter os cavaleiros que atacavam as estepes.
Ele entrou pelo portão aberto para a grama amarela, olhando para enormes macieiras plantadas como abrigo. Outras crianças comeram a fruta e se sentaram perto à sombra, mas Ruka não tinha certeza se lhe era permitido, ou com quem ele pertencia, então ele encontrou um pedaço de terra, em sua maioria seca, para sentar e observar os outros. Ele não sabia o que dizer ou fazer. Ele tirou pedaços de madeira de freixo e uma faca de seu bolso e tentou esculpir os cachorros de ovelha que ele havia visto. Mas principalmente, ele observava as crianças brincando.