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Hagan straightened at that. His mother had intervened? That meant she'd seen something—felt something.

Garrik gave them a final look. "Stay away from them," he ordered. "That's not a suggestion."

Which, of course, only made them more interested.

That night, despite their exhaustion, the boys found themselves creeping toward the communal flats.

"Just looking," Dain whispered.

"Just looking," Hagan agreed, though his pulse quickened.

But no one came out.

The windows were dark, curtains drawn tight. The air carried no hint of movement, no sign of life beyond the distant hum of voices inside.

Disappointment settled in Hagan's chest as they slunk away, quieter than before.

Back home, his mother, Lunara Astrid, was busy managing his younger brothers, ensuring they finished their meals and didn't kill each other before bedtime.

Hagan leaned against the doorframe for a moment, just watching her.

She was fair, her long dark blonde hair cascading down her back like silk. Her smile lit up the world, bright and warm, a beacon of kindness. But it was her green eyes, sharp and knowing, that had always struck him the most—eyes that only Renna had inherited.

As for him, he was his father's son through and through.

Unlike Astrid's lightness, Hagan's father was all dark hair, darker colouring, and piercing blue eyes—the same as his own. They were opposites in every way, his father was rough around the edges, hardened by battle and duty, while his mother was like a river gliding around a pebble—unyielding, but smooth and steady, shaping everything in her path.

Their love was palpable to all who saw them, a bond unshaken by time or war.

It had always made Hagan wonder if he would ever have something like that.

She barely glanced at him when she slid his plate in front of him, her gaze sharp with unspoken words.

"I heard Garrik had words with you."

Hagan sighed. "Yeah."

She raised an eyebrow. "And?"

He stuffed a piece of bread in his mouth and muttered, "I get it. Stay away from them."

She didn't look convinced.

His siblings weren't much help either. They spent dinner snickering and nudging him, whispering exaggerated versions of his punishment.

"So, what happens when you don't listen?" Renna grinned. "Another ten laps?"

"More like twenty," Jorik grunted around a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

"Maybe we should start counting now."

Hagan rolled his eyes, shoving another bite of food into his mouth just to keep himself from snapping back. It was worse when his mom did not scold him but was clearly disappointed.

Eventually, Luna Astrid silenced them with a look.

"Enough. Time for bed. You've got school tomorrow."

Grumbling, the younger ones shuffled away, leaving Hagan alone at the table with his mother.