Chapter 15 - Communication

Chapter 15 - Communication

I closed the heavy wooden back door of the house, letting it click shut behind me.

Clutching Source of Power tightly against my ribs, I stood frozen on the threshold. A few paces away, Mother was just putting away the last of the lunch dishes, drying her wet hands on her apron.

She turned her head casually toward the sound of the door. "Oh, Kyro, sweetie, how was—"

Her voice cut off instantly when her eyes landed on my face. She saw the purple bruising swelling along my jawline, the dried blood smudged across my chin where my tooth had been ripped out, and the tear-stained tracks running through the dirt on my cheeks. The dishcloth dropped from her hand, fluttering harmlessly to the floor.

In a fraction of a second, she crossed the kitchen and dropped to her knees in front of me.

"K-Kyro?!" Her hands hovered over me, trembling with a terrifying blend of horror and sudden, dangerous panic. "What happened to you?! Who did this?!"

"Lyra beat me up..." My voice squeaked, small and pitiful. I tried to hold it in, but the dam broke again, a fresh tear escaping my eye. "She said I was slacking off during training... I—I wasn't even part of her practice, Mom! I was just sitting in the shade reading my book, and she decided I was being lazy..."

"Oh, my baby boy..."

Reyna didn't hesitate. She scooped me up into her arms, pulling my battered five-year-old body tight against her chest. I buried my face into her neck, sinking into her warmth. Her shirt was damp around the collar from doing the dishes, smelling faintly of citrus soap and cedar smoke, but she held me close, gently rocking me back and forth like an infant.

I'm getting conflicted feelings about this, but it sure does feel nice.

"It's okay... Mommy's here," she whispered softly, her voice low and tight. "Let's get those wounds cleaned up, alright?"

She carried me upstairs, her footsteps heavy on the wooden steps. Passing her own bedroom first, she snatched a wooden chest containing clean bandages, ointment, and wine before carrying me into my room. She set the medical box on my desk and gently laid me down on the bed in the dim room. My window was covered with a wooden platter, just enough to fit.

Wine..? What are you going to do with the wine?

She hurried back downstairs, returning moments later with a fresh bucket of cool water and a clean rag.

Sitting on the edge of my mattress, Reyna carefully wiped away the dried blood around my mouth, her touch extraordinarily light. Every time I winced, her jaw tightened a little more.

Oh, right. Wine has alcohol.

"She really beat you bad..." she muttered under her breath, her voice trembling with restrained fury as she wrapped a soft strip of linen around my head to keep ice against my swollen jaw.

"Y-yeah..." I mumbled through my swollen lip.

She finished dressing my bruises in painstaking silence. Once she was sure I was comfortable, she pressed a lingering kiss to my forehead.

"I'll go cook something soft for you to eat," she murmured gently. "Rest for a bit, sweetie."

The door clicked shut behind her, leaving me alone in the quiet dimness of my bedroom.

I lay flat on my back, staring up at the natural knots and lines in the timber ceiling. My body was completely drained, but my mind refused to settle. I closed my eyes, trying to force myself to sleep—to let the pain fade into unconsciousness. But the second the room went quiet, a vivid flashback of the scene in the barn rushed back into my head.

"Can't you at least DO something to her?! Are you just going to stand there and let her beat me up whenever she feels like it?!"

The words I had screamed at my father echoed relentlessly in my ears, ringing far louder than the throbbing pain in my jaw.

"SPANK HER! Or yell at her like Mom does, you idiot!"

I rolled onto my side, staring at the blank wall as a knot of guilt tightened in my stomach.

Everything I had complained about was true. Lyra's behavior was out of control, and she did need actual discipline before her brute-force mindset caused irreversible damage to someone else.

But the way I had delivered it...

The venom in my tone. The disrespect. The uncalled-for insult at the end.

Thorskil wasn't a neglectful monster. He was a man who loved his family so deeply it terrified him. He was a legendary warrior, yet he was completely out of his depth when it came to raising a spirited, hyper-aggressive barbarian child without breaking her spirit. He was gentle to a fault, always striving to be a haven for us—and I had thrown his own insecurities back into his face.

"Rghhh..."

I slammed my palms over my face, letting out a muffled, frustrated groan into my hands.

"I can't sleep..."

***

--Thorskil--

I sat hunched over on a bale of compressed wheat near the back wall of the barn, my elbows resting on my knees. I stared down at my hands—calloused, scarred, and strong—yet currently feeling utterly useless.

Saul stood a few paces away, his frame as still as a carved stone pillar. His arms rested loosely at his sides, his weathered face completely devoid of emotion as he listened to every word I said. When I finally finished recounting the argument with Kyro, the heavy silence of the barn stretched out between us.

"Ah," Saul murmured softly, his voice steady. "I see now."

"Yes..." I muttered, running a thick hand over my face, dragging my palm down to my beardless chin. "I feel like a complete failure of a father."

Silence followed once more, broken only by the distant rustle of livestock in their stalls and the faint sound of Lyra’s heavy breathing as she grunted through her endless set of push-ups out in the field.

Saul didn't immediately offer empty comfort. He didn't tell me I was doing fine, nor did he scoff at my plight. Instead, he took a slow, deliberate step forward, pulling up an upturned wooden crate and sitting down across from me. He leaned back, resting his wrists on his knees, his dull black eyes looking directly into mine.

"You are not a failure, Sir," Saul began quietly. "I believe you were simply trying your best to assess a delicate situation."

"Really...?" I asked, turning my head to look at him, searching his face for any sign of hollow reassurance.

"From what I've observed, Lyra genuinely cares for Kyro. The problem is that she doesn't understand yet that strength has limits."

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Barbarian children are raised differently from regular human children. Their instincts favor confrontation, competition, and displays of strength. To them, challenging someone can be a way of acknowledging them. Training together can be a way of showing affection."

Saul's expression remained calm.

"That doesn't make what Lyra did acceptable, but it does explain why she doesn't see it the way you or Kyro do."

I lowered my gaze toward the straw beneath my boots.

"So when she attacked him..."

"She likely believed she was teaching him," Saul replied. "In her mind, she was pushing her brother to become stronger. She didn't understand that Kyro wasn't accepting a challenge. She didn't recognize that he was simply asking her to stop."

My hands tightened against my knees.

"I..." I lowered my head, staring at the scattered straw between my boots. "It’s so tricky. I could easily step in and discipline Lyra the same way Reyna does, but... exactly as you said. It feels like walking a tightrope."

"It is," Saul agreed with a simple nod. "Given the dynamic of your household—a fierce barbarian daughter paired with an unusually sharp, observant young son—having Reyna enforce the stern discipline fits best, while you remain the grounding warmth they can return to."

"But my son..." I swallowed hard, the memory of Kyro's tear-stained face stinging deeper than any blade. "Kyro told me to my face that I should be disciplining her more. He felt... unprotected."

"And he was right to feel aggrieved," Saul acknowledged plainly. "From what I have observed, you cherish your children deeply and go out of your way to avoid causing them harm. But disciplining Lyra does not mean you have to copy Reyna's way."

"And how should I go about it, Saul?" I asked, looking up at him, my voice barely above a whisper. "If I don't use force, how do I make her understand?"

Saul shifted slightly on the wooden crate, his expression remaining as stoic as ever. "Boundaries, Sir. A barbarian respects strength, but they also respect rules of someone they consider powerful when enforced with calm, unwavering certainty. You do not need to raise your hand to show strength. You simply need to take away what she values until she reflects on her actions—her freedom to roam, her training time, or her weapon."

He leaned forward, holding my gaze. "When Reyna disciplines, it is a roaring storm. When you discipline, it must be a mountain—unyielding, immovable, and cold enough to make her stop and think. That way, she learns that her actions have consequences without feeling like her father hates her."

I absorbed his words, feeling clarity begin to settle over the heavy fog in my chest. "A mountain..."

"Yes," Saul said, standing up and brushing a speck of sawdust from his trousers. He turned toward the open barn door, glancing out at the field where Lyra was struggling through her remaining push-ups.

"Go talk to your son, Sir," Saul added over his shoulder. "Explain to him why you act the way you do. He is sharp enough to understand—perhaps sharper than any five-year-old has a right to be. And leave Lyra's training to me for the rest of the week."

I turned back to the ground as I reflected on Saul's words.

***

--Reyna--

I was absolutely furious.

By the time the heavy wooden front door finally clicked open, I was already waiting in the center of the kitchen, my arms tightly crossed over my chest and a heavy straw broom gripped firmly in my right hand.

Click.

Lyra closed the door behind her, wiping a thick layer of dirt and sweat from her brow. She turned toward the living room, freezing the moment her golden eyes met mine—standing there like an unyielding warden at the edge of the hearth.

"Mom! You are not going to believe what just happened..." she began, trying to sound cheerful despite her visibly shaking shoulders.

"Ho?" I tilted my head slightly, letting a warm, pleasant smile curve onto my lips—a tone so sweet it was downright poisonous. "And what would that be, sweetie?"

"I actually reached a thousand push-ups!" She beamed, trying to play it off with a toothy, innocent grin. "Master Saul made me do a thousand, and I finished every single one! Can you believe it?!"

"That’s wonderful, sweetie..."

I took a slow, deliberate step forward as my voice dropped.

"...But what isn't wonderful is how you used your strength to beat your five-year-old brother bloody."

Before she could process the shift in the air, my left hand darted forward, snatching her wrist in a vice-like grip.

How many times do I have to teach her this lesson? My blood boiled as the image of Kyro’s swollen, purple jaw flashed in my mind—a helpless, gentle boy who spent his days sitting quietly with his books, targeted by his own sister's untamed instincts

"Give me that hand of yours," I growled, my jaw clenching so hard my teeth ground together. "Since you love using that hand to hurt your family, perhaps I should teach you exactly how frightening it is to have your strength turned against you."

A dense crimson aura erupted from my skin, the sheer heat of my mana crackling through the room.

Lyra gasped, her golden eyes widening in sudden, genuine terror. She dug her heels into the floor, pulling with all her might to break free, but my grip remained as solid as iron. "W-what?! Mom, stop! Let go!"

"What? Don't you like hurting your precious little brother?" I raised the thick wooden handle of the broom high above my shoulder. "I'm simply giving you a taste of your own medicine!"

SLAP!

The heavy wood slammed down against her forearm, but right before impact, a brilliant blue barrier of light flared over her skin, absorbing the force.

My gaze hardened. "Turn off your aura, Lyra."

"N-no!" Lyra yelled back, her lower lip trembling as tears of panic welled up in her golden eyes. "Mom, please! I was just trying to teach him—"

"I said TURN IT OFF! NOW! Or I'll make sure you're grounded for a decade!"

The sheer command in my voice echoed through the house.

"Do not test me, young lady."

Lyra flinched as she looked at her arm. She hesitated for an agonizing second, but under the weight of my unyielding stare, her blue light flickered and completely died out.

I hate doing this. My heart cried out as I raised the broom again, seeing her small frame shrink before me. And so, without another word, Lyra received her punishment.

***

--Thorskil--

I made my way to the house. After paying Saul for his troubles and thanking him for the wisdom, I walked up the porch steps, the heavy oak door opening with a familiar, soft creak.

The heavy silence of the kitchen greeted me first. Reyna was sitting at the dining table, her arms resting flat against the polished wood. Her shoulders were still slightly tense, but the fiery aura that usually filled the room when she was angry had settled into calmness.

"Hey, Rey," I said softly, stepping into the warm glow of the lantern light. I walked over and gently rested a large hand over hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "How are you holding up?"

Reyna leaned her palm into mine, letting out a long, slow sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the entire afternoon. She looked up at me, her eyes softening as the remaining anger drained away, leaving only exhaustion behind.

"I'm managing..." she murmured, running her thumb over my knuckles. She looked toward the stairs for a moment before turning her full attention back to me. "Thorskil... how did this happen today? Walk me through it. What set her off?"

I pulled out a chair beside her and sat down, leaning my forearms onto the table so I was eye-level with her.

"I was out in the barn, finishing up with the cows," I began, my voice dropping. "When I stepped outside to get some air and check on Lyra's drills... I saw her start walking over to Kyro."

Reyna listened intently, her brows knitting together in concern.

"I watched the interaction happen from a distance," I continued, letting out a regretful sigh that rattled in my chest. "I didn't smell a shred of malicious intent on her, Rey. From what I caught in the air, she was actually trying to 'help' him in her own twisted way. She thought she was building his character."

I dragged a hand through my hair, staring down at the table.

"And from what Lyra told me when I confronted her, she genuinely thought he was slacking off," I said, my voice heavy. "In her mind, because she was sweating through her exercises, Kyro sitting quietly under the shade of the barn's roof with a book felt wrong. She tried to force him up to train. When he refused... her instincts took over, and she grabbed him."

"And that was my failure. I saw her approach him, but I misjudged what was happening. I thought it was just ordinary sibling nagging, so I didn't move fast enough. By the time I realized her aggression was escalating, Kyro was already bleeding."

Reyna reached out with her other hand, placing it tenderly over mine.

I looked back up at my wife, my jaw tight. "Afterward, I went over and brought Kyro into the shade of the barn. I tried to tend to his wounds, but he was... he was furious with me, Rey. Furious that I hadn't stepped in, that I hadn't said a word to Lyra while it was happening. He felt completely unprotected. And the worst part is... he was right. It was my fault."

"Thors.. You always want to see the good in her. You're terrified of making her feel like an outsider in her own home."

"I know.." I said. "But Kyro needed his father to be his shield today, not a bystander. He spoke to me right after it happened, Reyna... he looked at me with so much hurt. I made him feel entirely alone in his own yard."

Reyna’s expression softened completely, her eyes shining with deep, empathetic understanding. "What did he say to you?"

A small, humorless chuckle escaped my lips, though there was no joy in it. I shook my head slowly. "He called me an idiot. He shouted that I just let Lyra do whatever she wants, and that I was being irresponsible as a father."

I leaned forward, resting both elbows on the table and burying my face in my calloused hands. My voice came out muffled, heavy with self-doubt.

"You know... I think he's right."

Reyna didn't hesitate. She reached across the corner of the table, wrapping her hand around my upper arm and rubbing my back in slow, grounding circles. "What did you tell him?"

"I apologized," I answered, slowly lifting my head to meet her gaze. "I didn't argue with him. I just owned it. And after he left me, I sat down with Saul in the barn."

I took a deep breath, feeling the steady clarity of Saul's advice settle back into my mind.

"Saul helped me see things clearly. He reminded me that I don't need to turn into a tyrant or change who I am at my core. But I do need to set firm, unyielding boundaries with Lyra before her strength turns into something dangerous."

Reyna gave a faint, tender smile, squeezing my hand tightly.

"I'm glad you talked to Saul," she murmured. "And I'm glad you didn't fight Kyro on what he said. He's small, Thors, but he sees through things faster than either of us expects. When he gets hurt, it isn't just his body, but his pride takes a hit because he knows he can't physically defend himself yet."

"I know," I admitted, my voice dropping. "It broke my heart seeing him look at me like I'd abandoned him."

"It's never too late to fix it. A bond between you two can never be broken." Reyna said softly. She leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek. She stood up from the table, smoothing down her apron.

"I handled Lyra for today," she said, glancing briefly toward the stairs. "What she did was wrong, even if her instincts said otherwise. But tomorrow, Thors... tomorrow you need to be the one to set her straight."

"I will," I promised, sitting up straight. "Thank you, Rey."

Reyna nodded. "You're always welcome, Dear. I'll go make dinner." She moved to the kitchen.

I went to the stairs, then went to the second-floor hallway. As I passed Lyra's room, the faint, muffled sound of sniffling and quiet sobs leaked from beneath her door. A familiar pang of worry tugged at my chest. Knowing Reyna, she had dealt out her usual brand of fiery discipline—hard, swift, and uncompromising. My hand instinctively reached toward the brass knob to check on her, but the memory of Kyro’s tear-stained, bloody face flashed vividly across my mind.

I froze. I pulled my hand back, exhaled a heavy breath through my nose, and turned toward the door right beside hers.

I stepped up to Kyro's room and raised a heavy knuckle, knocking three times softly.

"Kyro...?" I asked, keeping my voice low and gentle. "You still awake, son?"

Silence answered me.

Uncertainty settled in my stomach, but I reached out and gently twisted the knob. It gave way without resistance. Pushing the timber door open, the warm, orange glow of the hallway lantern spilled across the dark hardwood floor, cutting through the shadows of the bedroom.

Kyro was sitting on the edge of his bed, his small frame hunched over, staring blankly at the floorboards between his feet. A tight white linen bandage was wrapped around his jaw, making his five-year-old silhouette look heartbreakingly fragile.

I paused at the threshold, my throat suddenly dry. For all the battles I had fought and all the armies I had faced, standing in the doorway of my hurting son's room left me utterly speechless. I genuinely didn't know what to say.

"Dad," Kyro murmured quietly, breaking my trance.

"I... How are you feeling, Kyro?" I asked softly, stepping inside. I left the door cracked behind me to let the hallway light in, crossing the room to sit carefully on the edge of his mattress. The ropes under the bed creaked beneath my weight.

Kyro didn't shrink away. His eyes—too observant for a five-year-old-tracked my movement as I settled beside him.

An awkward silence stretched between us. I stared down at my large, calloused hands resting on my knees, my mind racing as I tried to organize the thoughts Saul and I had discussed in the barn.

"I—" I began, lifting my head.

"I'm sorry, Dad," Kyro cut in, his small voice barely above a whisper. "About what I said to you earlier."

I turned my head, staring at him in utter shock. "Kyro..."

"I know it was uncalled for," he muttered, looking up to meet my eyes with a solemn gaze. "It wasn't fair of me to scream at you like that, especially with the way I disrespected you. My tone... calling you an idiot... Y'know, it-it was just wrong."

He let out a long, small breath, shaking his head slightly.

"Raising children must be really hard... and it was wrong of me to expect you to be perfect just because people call you the Sword God." Kyro looked down at his lap, his fingers lightly pulling at the hem of his blanket. "I guess you're just as human as everyone else."

His fingers clenched.

"I really am sorry, Dad."

I sat completely still, my heart aching as I looked directly at my son.

The boy had been struck, humiliated, and lost a tooth just hours ago—yet here he was, apologizing toward me, even when his outburst was justified. The emotional maturity in his voice hit me harder than any blow ever could, and it stung my heart at least a little.

Slowly, gently, I reached out with my hand and rested it on his uninjured shoulder, pulling him into a soft, protective half-hug against my side.

"Kyro... look at me, son," I said, my voice thick with emotion.

He lifted his head, his wide eyes catching the warm light from the doorway.

"You don't ever have to apologize to me for being angry when you are hurt," I said, holding his gaze with sincerity. "Your tone was coming from pain, Kyro. You were bleeding, you were terrified, and you looked up at the man who is supposed to protect you... and felt like he did nothing. Your anger was earned."

I took a deep breath, my thumb gently rubbing the side of his shoulder.

"You were right about what you said. I have been irresponsible. I was so afraid of making your sister feel alienated or resentful that I forgot my most important job in this house: keeping you safe. Keeping you both safe. I hid behind my desire to be too gentle, and it cost you a tooth."

Kyro blinked, a flicker of genuine surprise softening his eyes.

"I talked to Saul, and I talked to your mother," I continued softly, offering him a tender smile. "Starting tomorrow, things are changing. I am setting real boundaries for Lyra. I am your father, Kyro... and I promise you on my life, you will never have to feel unprotected in your own home again."

I saw Kyro smile and nodded.

"Thank you, Dad." I rested his head beside me. "But please, don't be too harsh on us.."

Thorskil chuckled, "Well, we'll see in the future."

[End]