The Outcast's Rebirth

CHAPTER 23: Torn Bonds

 

The carriage rolled slowly over the uneven terrain, creaking with every bump. Maryanne and Maurice's journey had taken longer than they anticipated, the carriage far slower than Winston’s personal transport.

   The sun was high in the sky by the time they arrived, casting long shadows over the fields that stretched endlessly in every direction. Despite the afternoon warmth, the air was sharp and cold, a biting reminder of the distance between their world and this secluded corner.

As they approached the small cottage, Maryanne's heart pounded with a mixture of dread and resolve.

   The cottage itself was modest, nestled amidst the vast expanse of fields, its wooden frame and thatched roof giving it a quaint, almost idyllic appearance. It was a stark contrast to the opulence of Winston's mansion and the life she had always known.

   Maryanne took a deep breath, her gloved hand trembling as she reached for the door. It was an action so foreign to her, the daughter of nobility who had never performed such a humble task.

  Her gloved knuckles rapped against the weathered wood, the sound echoing softly in the quiet of the afternoon.

The door creaked open, revealing a black woman in probably her early thirties. Her face showed experience, but her eyes were sharp and observant.

   Maurice, who had been standing slightly behind Maryanne, took in the scene with a wary gaze. His sister’s decision to visit this remote cottage had put them both on edge.

"Good afternoon," Maurice began, his voice steady but polite. "We wish to speak with the boy who lives here. My sister would like to see him."

The woman, whose English was limited but functional, seemed to understand the gravity of the situation.

  She glanced over her shoulder at Kyzzu, who was nervously shifting from foot to foot, his face pale. After a moment of hesitation, she stepped aside to allow them entrance. The warmth of the cottage hit them immediately, a sharp contrast to the cold outside.

Maryanne and Maurice stepped inside, their eyes adjusting to the cozy interior. The cottage was small but well-kept, with a roaring fire in the hearth that cast a warm, flickering glow over the room.

  It was a stark contrast to the grandeur of their home, but there was an undeniable comfort to it.

Kyzzu stood in the center of the room, holding a bundle wrapped in soft cloth. His silver hair, tied back loosely, caught the light in a way that made it shimmer.

   His blue eyes, which were more striking than the hue of Maryanne’s own, were filled with a mix of apprehension and sadness. The tattoos that adorned his arms and shoulders were vividly blue, a stark contrast to his dark skin.

Maurice’s gaze fixed on Kyzzu, scrutinizing him with a mix of curiosity and discomfort. The boy was to be precise, a freak of nature, his appearance so distinct from anyone he had seen before.

   The sight of him, with his otherworldly looks and the presence of the child in his arms, made the entire situation feel even more surreal.

Maryanne took a step forward, her voice shaking but firm. "I am here to see the child," she said, her tone brooking no argument. "The child that belongs to my husband."

Kyzzu’s face went pale, and he looked around helplessly. The weight of the situation was palpable, and he knew he had no choice but to comply.

The intensity of Maryanne’s gaze, combined with the sharp edge in her voice, left him feeling as if he were on the brink of some irrevocable change. He knew he had no choice than to comply, after all, Winston was her husband, her lover.