The Hidden Crown

Ch7

Breakfast was quiet, the warm morning light spilling softly through the windows. The smell of fresh bread and tea lingered in the air, comforting and familiar. None of them were hungry in the usual sense, but Raven had gone earlier to fetch a small rabbit for Lucian—a clean source of nourishment that would help purge the remnants of the dark witch’s poison from his body.

Lucian stared at the rabbit uneasily, his small hands trembling. The golden-brown eyes darted between Raven and Rowen, wary and uncertain. He remembered what had happened before, the darkness inside him, the uncontrollable urges.

Raven knelt beside him, voice calm and grounding. “Take it slowly. There’s no rush.” His hand hovered near Lucian’s shoulder but didn’t touch him, giving the boy space while still offering reassurance.

Rowen leaned closer, whispering softly, “We could say you adopted him, and that Liora’s sister passed away. That way, it makes sense, and no one will ask questions.”

Lucian hesitated, chewing slightly on his lip. Slowly, he nodded. “Okay,” he whispered, the word fragile but filled with tentative trust.

Over the next few days, Rowen stayed home from school to help Lucian adjust. He showed him the layout of the house, explaining where things were, how to navigate each room safely, and teaching him routines—washing his hands, arranging his bed, stacking dishes. Each small task, though ordinary, helped build a sense of normalcy for the boy who had known nothing but fear and running for months.

Liora worked closely with Lucian as well, guiding him through exercises to restore balance and control. Her hands glided gently over his small frame, adjusting posture, guiding movements, and occasionally resting lightly on his shoulders to steady him. Lucian shivered at first but began to relax as he realized she wasn’t going to hurt him.

On one snowy afternoon, Lucian paused at the window, staring at the flakes drifting lazily through the gray sky. The world outside seemed vast and untouched. He pressed a small hand to the glass, mesmerized by the way snowflakes clung to the windowsill. Rowen sat beside him, keeping quiet at first, letting him observe in silence.

“You know… we’re not going to let anything happen to you,” Rowen finally said gently, brushing his hand against Lucian’s. “You’re safe here. Everyone wants to help you. You don’t have to be alone anymore.”

Lucian’s hand lingered, hesitating for a moment before brushing Rowen’s sleeve in return. The gesture was tiny, but it bridged the gap between fear and trust.

Each morning, Raven returned with the rabbit, demonstrating careful feeding. Lucian watched intently, feeling the soft fur, smelling the warmth of the meat, learning to feed cleanly. Slowly, he began to eat without hesitation, gaining strength and purging the witch’s remaining influence.

“Good,” Raven said one morning, observing the boy. “You’re doing well. Your body is responding nicely. Soon, we can start easing you into normal food.”

During the afternoons, Liora guided him through movement exercises. “Move slowly. Focus on your breathing,” she instructed, her hands tracing gentle patterns in the air around him. “Feel your strength, but do not let it rush you. You’re learning to control yourself again.”

Lucian concentrated, sweat beading on his forehead. Each step, deliberate and measured, taught him control over muscles that once moved too fast, too violently. Occasionally, he stumbled, but Liora’s soft hands steadied him. Each small success earned a faint smile from her.

By the fourth day, Liora decided it was time for a full magical check. “Relax,” she said softly. “I just need to make sure your body has fully healed.”

Lucian sat on the edge of the small bed, trusting her hands as they glowed faintly with magic. She traced his form carefully, sweeping away any lingering traces of poison or strain. After several tense minutes, she smiled.

“You’re clear,” she said. “Your body is strong again. The rabbit meals helped flush everything out. Now… you can eat regular food. No more special meals, unless you want them.”

Lucian’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Really,” Liora confirmed. “You’re strong, healthy, and ready. The only thing left is learning to control your movement and trust us completely.”

Raven, standing nearby, nodded approvingly. “Good. That means we can start easing you into normal life soon.”

Rowen smiled, a warmth in his chest. “See? You’re ready for the world again.”

Liora moved to the center of the room, hands spreading softly in a guiding gesture. “Now, let’s practice shimmer,” she said. “Think of a place you want to go, focus on it, and let your body follow your mind.”

Lucian’s face scrunched with concentration. He pictured the garden outside, imagining the faint scent of flowers and the crunch of snow underfoot. A small cloud of sparkling dust enveloped him, and in the blink of an eye, he disappeared. Moments later, he reappeared near the window, blinking in surprise.

“That’s it,” Liora said, smiling. “Small steps, controlled. You’re learning quickly.”

Rowen’s eyes widened. “That… was amazing.”

Lucian grinned, the first genuine spark of excitement since he had arrived. “I can do it,” he whispered.

Over the next few days, he practiced shimmer and human-paced movement repeatedly. Some attempts were clumsy, others faster than intended, but each trial taught him control. The room was often filled with the soft sound of dust settling, occasional giggles from Lucian, and encouragement from Liora.

By the end of the week, Lucian was moving confidently through the house, eating regular food without hesitation, and practicing shimmer under supervision. His confidence grew with each small victory, and his golden-brown eyes now held a glimmer of hope.

For the first time in months, Lucian felt something long absent: hope. He wasn’t alone, and he had people who would protect him, guide him, and help him grow stronger.