Dante stayed quiet, but his silence felt heavier than any loud scream. His presence was cold and sharp, like a knife, and the whole room seemed to tense under his controlled anger.
Alina looked at him and realized he wasn't just angry he was afraid too. Behind all that power and Anger, he was still a father. He might have been a terrifying demon, but first and foremost, he was a dad.
She turned her eyes to Kelpie, who stood frozen his tiny body trembling under Dante's piercing gaze. The little water spirit looked like he wanted to disappear into mist. His breath came out in shallow gasps, his wet hands balled at his sides, and his soft lips quivered.
Without thinking, Alina stepped forward and gently scooped him into her arms.
Kelpie gasped in surprise, his eyes wide.
But Alina just adjusted him quietly against her chest, one hand gently cradling the back of his head, the other patting his soaked back in a slow, calming rhythm.
His small body stiffened.
She could feel the fear in his muscles, the way his heart was racing like a frightened rabbit.
"Shhh…" she whispered softly.
"Don't be scared, sweetheart. You're safe now. Deep breaths, okay? Deep, deep breaths…"
Kelpie hiccupped softly.
And then slowly… gradually… his body began to relax. The tension in his shoulders loosened. His wet fingers clutched softly at her dress, and his head dropped gently against her collarbone.
Alina smiled a little, holding him tighter.
She looked into his sleepy blue eyes and spoke again, even more gently now.
"Do you know where Lucian is, sweetheart?"
Kelpie sniffed, eyes still watery, and after a few seconds, he gave a small nod.
Alina exhaled in relief.
She gently brushed a strand of wet hair away from Kelpie's forehead, her hand still patting his back in a slow, comforting rhythm. His little fingers clutched the fabric of her dress like it was the only thing anchoring him.
She leaned in, her voice warm and sweet, soft like lullabies and safe places.
"Can you tell Teacher where he is?" she asked gently, her lips close to his ear.
Kelpie hesitated.
Just for a moment.
His lower lip trembled again.
Then, slowly… he nodded his tiny head.
Alina smiled softly. "Good boy," she whispered, rocking him gently. "You're so brave, sweetheart."
"There," Kelpie pointed at the table.
The water was gone, but the room was wet, floors soaked, walls damp, chairs knocked over, tablecloths heavy with water. Alina's shoes made soft, wet sounds as she walked.
Behind her, Dante stood still, watching. He hadn't said a word.
Alina set Kelpie down. "Stay with Boo," she whispered. Then she went to the table alone.
She bent down and lifted the wet cloth—
And her heart hurt.
Lucian was there. Huddled under the table, knees to his chest.
His face was hidden behind his hair, but his red eyes peeked up then looked away. He wasn't moving. Wasn't speaking but she could feel it.
He wasn't hiding because he was scared. He was hiding because he didn't know what to say.
Because he had made Kelpie cry and now… he didn't know how to fix it.
Alina didn't speak. She didn't yell. Didn't tell him he was wrong.
She just sat beside him on the wet floor, letting her dress get soaked, letting the cold seep in.
She looked straight ahead—not at him and stayed quiet.
Sometimes, a child doesn't need words. Just someone to sit with them in the silence.
Lucian didn't move from beneath the table. His small arms stayed wrapped tightly around his legs, his red eyes glancing sideways at Alina, who simply sat beside the table without leaning in, without pulling him out, and most of all…without judging him.
That was what made him finally speak.
His voice was quiet. Flat. Like he was trying not to feel anything at all.
"You…" he whispered, barely loud enough to reach her.
"Are you not going to scold me?"
Alina turned her head slightly. Her eyes were soft, but she didn't rush him.
Lucian looked down at the puddle beneath him. His brows knit, and his lips pressed tight.
He remembered the last time this happened.
His previous teacher, Miss Clara was cold, strict, efficient. She had made a mistake in the numbers and he, being who he was, corrected her immediately and called her "dumb" without thinking twice.
She had snapped. She'd scolded him sharply, made him stand in the corner for the rest of the lesson, and even told the other children not to speak to him for the day.
He didn't cry. He never did.
But that night, Father scolded him again for "disrupting class."
So now… here he was again.
He had made someone cry. A classmate. He'd used the same word. Dumb.
And deep inside, he was waiting for the same thing.
Reprimand.
Punishment.
Silence.
Alina looked at the tablecloth gently swaying near her face. Then she smiled just a little.
"Do you… want me to scold you?" she asked softly.
Lucian blinked. "No."
"Then why do you think I would?"
He hesitated.
"Because I said something bad. I made him cry," he said stiffly. "The last teacher said it was unacceptable. She made me stand facing the wall. Father agreed."
Alina sighed softly, her voice calm and clear as a stream.
"You did say something hurtful, sweetheart," she said gently. "And that matters. But…"
She looked under the table again, this time meeting his guarded gaze with warmth.
"You're not a bad boy. You're just a little boy who's still learning what words can do."
Lucian blinked again. His lips twitched slightly. He looked… confused.
Across the room, curled up on the counter like a soggy cinnamon roll, Luna's furry ears twitched.
Her little wolf body was still damp from the earlier flood, her tail curled tightly around her paws. She had been lying there grumpily, pretending she didn't care, her chin resting on a folded towel someone had left behind. But the moment Alina's soft voice reached her ears, something changed. Luna had great hearing. Too great, actually. She could hear everything even when she tried not to.
And she had heard every word.
"You're not a bad boy. You're just a little boy who's still learning what words can do."
Luna sniffled.
She blinked her big golden-brown eyes and turned her face into the towel as quickly as possible, pretending like she wasn't getting emotional. But the twitch of her tail, the soft huff of her nose, and the way her little ears folded slightly—all gave her away.
She acted sweet with her mom and dad, but she didn't like others. So when she was around people she didn't like, she would get angry.
She remembered every time someone called her too angry. Too loud. Too mean.
And no one had ever said it like that before.
Soft. Patient. Like a warm blanket.
She snuggled deeper into the towel, her cheeks burning underneath all that fur, and muttered softly through her baby fangs, "Hmph. Dumb Teacher… making everyone feel better…"
But even as she pouted, her tail gave a single happy wag.