Chapter 4
Father's Decree
Sharin's father consistently assigns her chores, emphasizing her role is to care for Hectorn. He dismisses her pleas that Hectorn isn't a baby, insisting her older status means she must always be his guardian.
The afternoon sun, usually a cheerful splash of gold across the worn floorboards of their small cottage, felt oppressive today. It seemed to bake the frustration right into Sharin’s skin as she scrubbed at a stubborn smudge on the hearth. Her father’s voice, a low rumble that always seemed to carry an unspoken command, echoed from the doorway.
“Sharin, have you finished with the woodpile yet?”
Sharin sighed, the sound barely a whisper against the rhythmic scrape of her brush. “Almost, Father.” She didn’t dare say she’d been trying to finish the hearth first, a task she’d been given *after* the woodpile. It was always like this, a constant shifting of duties, each one tethered to the unspoken, unyielding decree of Hectorn’s care.
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