The Witch's Gift
A shooting game—classic. Knock down the bottles, win a prize. Easy in theory. Liam raises the play gun and glances at me with a small smirk. “Let’s see if all that training’s paid off.” I grin, rolling my eyes. “You’re on.” Just like that, the cotton candy moment fades into nothing. As we start aiming, he glances at me. “Hey… about Saturday. I’m sorry about what my dad did. You weren’t ready, and he still picked you to spar.” I pause for just a second, letting my bottle wobble before I shoot and miss. “It’s okay. They don’t call him the Disciplinarian for nothing.” Liam chuckles faintly, but then his smile falters. “Still… it was too much. I mean he's been taking it out on everyone....." He pauses. "He’s been—different—ever since my Mom passed. More strict. More… Gamma.” I crease my
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