Felix Centric One Shots

The Garden King (TF)

"Tiny hands, mighty heart—nature's fiercest protector wears a giggle and curls."

The air in the forest was still, unnaturally so. Trees stood like silent sentinels, their branches swaying only when Hyunjin passed, the water in the nearby stream bending toward him as if greeting an old friend. The witch council stood around a small clearing where the burnt remains of a cottage still smoldered. The scent of ash, blood, and crushed petals lingered.

Minho crouched by the edge of the ruins, brushing aside the scorched earth with one gloved hand. "Fire started inside. It wasn't from a witch."

"No, it wasn't," Seungmin muttered, his voice unusually quiet. He touched the half-burnt handle of a wooden spoon lying in the dirt. His eyes clouded over instantly, his irises flickering silver.

The others stood still. They knew better than to interrupt him.

Seungmin's breath caught, and he whispered, "There was a woman... she was trying to hide him. They broke in. She begged them to stop. The boy... he was crying. Screaming. And then..."

Seungmin dropped the spoon like it burned.

Chan took a step forward, voice sharp. "What happened?"

"He watched them kill her," Seungmin said flatly, looking at the ground. "And then he lost control. Seven of them—dead before they hit the ground. The rest ran."

There was silence. Jisung's jaw clenched.

"Where is he now?" Chan asked.

"East side of the forest. Hiding under the roots of a tree." Seungmin pointed. "He's scared. But he's still powerful. He's the one keeping the forest silent."

Jeongin glanced around uneasily. "The trees aren't breathing right."

"They're protecting him," Jisung said. "Or scared of him."

"Both," Seungmin said.

"Let's go," Chan ordered. He didn't raise his voice. He never needed to.

They moved quickly, following the path the energy tugged them toward. It didn't take long to find the massive roots of an old elm tree curled like fingers over a hollowed space in the earth. Minho stepped forward, fire glowing faintly in his palm to light the inside.

And there he was.

A tiny boy, no older than two, sat curled in the dirt. His face was streaked with soot and dried tears, and little green sprouts had grown from the ground around his fingers like they were clinging to him. His blond hair was tangled and glowing faintly under Minho's light.

He didn't look up.

But the wind rustled against their cloaks, and a sudden mist kissed their cheeks.

"He knows we're here," Hyunjin murmured.

Chan knelt slowly, his voice soft. "Hey. Little one."

The boy sniffled but didn't move.

"We're not here to hurt you," Chan continued. "We know what happened. We know you were scared."

"...Mama..." the little boy whimpered.

Jeongin bit his lip.

Chan's expression didn't change, but the air around him warmed slightly. "I know. She loved you very much."

"Dey hurted Mama," the toddler whispered, finally looking up. His eyes shimmered like storm clouds—gray, blue, green, and gold all at once. "She said run, but I didn't."

"It's not your fault," Seungmin said quietly. "You did what you had to do."

"I made the fire," the boy mumbled. "An' da boom." He sniffled. "They screamed. I no like scream."