Sad Moon

Chapter 2: Betrayals - 4

The sun was just beginning to rise, its early rays lazily stretching across the orphanage courtyard, casting long shadows that seemed to embrace the gathered orphans. Yet, for Gideon, the gentle light did nothing to dispel the darkness swirling inside him. The sting of betrayal still gnawed at him, an open wound seeking no solace.

Standing before the orphans, the director began to call out the names of those who hadn't been chosen for the initial teams. His voice was clear, but to Gideon, it sounded distant, as though everything was wrapped in a faint, hollow echo.

—Rowan, Riven, Isolde, Elara— the director announced, forming the first team of those left out. Then, without pause, he moved to the next group. —Selene, Havel, Ravenna... Gideon—

Gideon's name hung in the air. For a moment, everything else seemed to fade. He looked at his new teammates with a mix of discomfort and distrust, a strange unease settling deep in his chest. The first to catch his eye was Ravenna. Her face bore signs of unease, her rigid, cautious stance betraying her. Gideon knew why. She had been part of the torment directed at Selene and Havel, always following Darion like a silent shadow.

Selene, in contrast, made no effort to hide her contempt. Her dark eyes, fixed on Ravenna, burned with a contained fury—a rage that had been fed by years of humiliation. Every muscle in her body was tense, her fists clenched, her jaw set. It was clear that Selene had no intention of forgiving, nor forgetting.

Gideon tore his gaze away from the two girls, eager to distance himself from their silent conflict. His eyes then met Havel's. The boy stood off to the side, calm and emotionless as he observed the scene. When their eyes met, Havel gave a brief nod, a gesture of acknowledgment, but nothing more. They weren't friends. They never had been. But there was no hostility between them either. Although Gideon had belonged to Darion's circle, he had never joined in the bullying. Yet his silence over the years weighed on him, like a shadow he couldn't escape.

The director, sensing the tension in the air, raised his voice again, this time with a more commanding tone.

—I know some of you are disappointed. And perhaps others are upset with how the teams have been formed— he said, pausing for a brief moment. —But it's not about how things start. It's about what you do with them—

His words echoed through the courtyard, carrying an uncomfortable truth. The orphans remained silent, listening intently as the director continued.

—The strongest teams aren't the ones that form at the start. They are the ones that learn to work together, to overcome their differences and support each other. That is the key to passing the trials ahead. It's not just strength you need, but heart and loyalty. And those are things you can develop if you work as one—

Though the director's words carried weight, for Gideon, they weren't enough. The anger continued to burn inside him, smothering any attempt at comfort. As the man walked away, leaving the courtyard buzzing with a mixture of emotions, Gideon could barely contain the rage building in his chest.

The other children seemed buoyed by the director's speech, their faces alight with a renewed sense of purpose. But among the teams of those left behind, the atmosphere was different. The tension between Selene and Ravenna was palpable, while Havel observed silently. Across the yard, Rowan and his team maintained a careful distance, fully aware of their relegation.

But Gideon wasn't paying attention to them. His focus was entirely on a group farther away, laughing and chatting as if nothing had happened: Balthazar, Aldric, Lyria, and Eira. Their betrayal was still a fresh wound in Gideon's chest, and their carefree behavior only poured salt into that wound.

His gaze locked with Balthazar's, who, upon noticing him, stopped laughing abruptly. With a slight nudge, he signaled to Aldric that Gideon was watching them. Aldric, visibly uncomfortable, quickly averted his eyes, and the group quietly dispersed, avoiding any confrontation.

Gideon watched them until they were out of sight, every fiber of his being tense, his fists clenched tightly, as though he were on the verge of exploding. The air felt thick, heavy with unspoken emotions.

Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked swiftly toward the orphanage. He knew there was nothing he could do for now, but one thing was certain: he wouldn't let this go. The betrayal would not be forgotten, and he certainly wouldn't forgive it.