THE ARCANE: Birth of Revenge

Chapter 5

It was raining. The storm outside hammered the roof with a relentless rhythm, thrumming through the walls of the house, echoing in Whitney’s chest.

She couldn’t sleep, not just because of the rain, but because of Kael. Where had he gone? What had become of the frightened, hungry little boy who had disappeared into the night? The thought twisted in her stomach like a cold knot, refusing to loosen.

She tossed and turned, repositioning herself again and again, hoping exhaustion would claim her. But it never did. Finally, she sat on the edge of the bed for a long moment, letting the sheets fall from her body, staring blankly at the shadowed ceiling. A quiet resolve grew in her; She needed a glass of water—or perhaps just a breath of fresh air. Questions with no answers swirled in her mind, and she felt an irresistible pull to step outside.

Her feet hit the cold floor. She pulled on her slippers, shivering, and moved through the room. The house was silent except for the rain, sliding down the windows in long, glistening streaks. She crept down the stairs, each step careful and cautious.

Reaching the kitchen, she grabbed a jug and a glass, filling it with water. She lifted it to her lips, sipped slowly, and took a steadying breath.

Then, she froze.

Outside the wide glass window, standing in the rain, drenched and motionless, was Kael. He was soaked, hair plastered to his forehead, eyes wide and staring. Whitney’s heart skipped a beat, she screamed as her hand flew to her mouth.

“Holy shitttt!”

The glass trembled in her hands as the jug slipped from her fingers, smashing against the tile with a sharp crash. Water spilled across the floor, mixing with the faint scent of the storm. Kael didn’t move. He just stood there, as if the rain itself couldn’t touch him.

Robert, jolted awake by her scream, stumbled down the stairs, panic written across his face. “Darling?” he yelled.

Whitney didn’t answer. Her eyes were locked on the boy outside. Robert followed her gaze, and his own heart sank. Kael, small and shivering, drenched to the bone, was staring back at them. His expression was unreadable—silent, distant, almost too heavy for a child.

“What the hell?” Robert muttered, stepping closer to the door.

Whitney’s voice trembled, half disbelief, half fear. “Oh my fuckin’ gad… what the hell is he doing outside?”

Without thinking, Robert flung the door open, letting the rain pour in behind him. He knelt quickly, holding his arms open. “Come on, kid. Get inside.”

Kael stepped through the doorway, his tiny body shivering violently, and collapsed into Robert’s arms. Whitney rushed forward, pulling a towel from the counter and wrapping it around him. His body was hot, feverish, trembling uncontrollably from a combination of cold, stress, and exhaustion.

“Jesus Christ… he smells like s**t,” Robert muttered, his voice half worried, half disgusted at the same time.

Whitney ignored him, placing a wet cloth on Kael’s forehead and quickly grabbing a bowl of water. “His temperature is high,” she said, her hands moving with practiced efficiency. “We need to get him to the guest room.”

Together, they carried him carefully up the stairs. Every step brought a fresh shiver from the boy, his hands clutching at Robert’s shoulders instinctively. When they reached the guest room, Robert gently laid him on the bed, tucking him under the blankets. Whitney dabbed at his wet hair and pressed the cool towel to his skin. Slowly, Kael began to respond, the tremors easing slightly as the warmth seeped into his chilled bones. After what felt like hours, his whisper reached them, fragile and unsure.

“Mom… Dad?"

"Rowan?”

Whitney and Robert exchanged a glance, a mix of pity, fear, and protectiveness etched across their faces. The weight of what he’d lost settled in the room like a tangible presence.

Kael blinked slowly, finally opening his eyes. They were wide and confused. First, they found Whitney’s face, illuminated by the faint light of the bedside lamp, then he shifted his gaze to Robert, standing silently in the corner.

“Mom,” he whispered again.

Whitney shook her head gently, stretching closer to him. “Hey, darling. I’m not your mother. I’m Whitney. Remember?”

He tried to lift himself, but his body protested with a harsh groan, every muscle was still stiff and aching from the cold and rain.

“Easy, kid,” Robert murmured. “You gotta get your strength back first.”

Whitney helped him sit upright, guiding his shoulders, brushing damp strands of hair from his forehead.

“What’s your name, darling?” she asked softly, coaxing him.

Kael hesitated, his lips trembling. “Ka... el,” he said, each syllable careful and delayed.

“Kael,” Whitney repeated gently, committing it to memory. “Where is your mother? Or a family member?”

His eyes darkened, a shadow of grief crossing his face. “He… killed them.”

Whitney and Robert froze as they glanced at each other again, their hearts tightening. “He?... Who killed them?” Whitney asked, her voice trembling slightly.

“Ken... dric... Von,” Kael said, as though speaking the name was heavy, like swallowing rocks.

The reality hit Whitney and Robert like a punch to the chest. The Supreme Commander, Kendric Von—hailed in the news as a man of power, credibility, and authority, a leader respected and admired by many, especially the young ones, was supposed to be a figure of guidance and strength. Yet here he was, the very man responsible for the horrors this little boy had endured.

Whitney swallowed, her throat dry. “It’s alright darling… you have to sleep so you can get your strength back, okay? We’ll leave you now.”

She glanced at Robert, and together they moved to leave, giving Kael space under the blankets, the soft rise and fall of his chest signaling fragile recovery. She flipped off the light, the room falling into shadow, leaving only the quiet sound of rain against the window.

Outside the room, in the dim hallway, Robert ran a hand through his hair.

“Kendric Von?” he muttered.

“What the hell?” Whitney said under her breath. “Poor kid… he must be traumatized.”

Robert’s gaze softened, lingering on the door to the guest room. “What do we do now?”

Whitney bit her lip, thoughts spinning, fear coiling around her heart, her voice dropped, soft and resolute.

“This… this must be God’s way of giving me a child. One I’ve been asking for all these years." She paused. "He is my child now. We have to keep him.”

And in the guest room, Kael shifted slightly, murmuring to the shadows, whispering names, clinging to memories that had been ripped from him, yet still holding onto a spark of hope, of life.

Outside, the rain continued to fall, relentless and cold, drumming against the roof and windows. But inside, the warmth of resolve settled between them. This child so small, yet broken by the world would no longer face it alone. They would protect him, whatever it took.