#evil farmer

“No… no, you can’t be serious…”

Elliott couldn’t believe the words that had just come out of the Farmer’s mouth.

There she was—just as beautiful as the first time they met on Pelican Town’s bridge, just as radiant as the day they married and exchanged vows of eternal love.

She looked exactly the same.

But her words… her words were monstrous, the kind of thing you’d expect from someone summoning a demon or cursing a soul—so sharp and cruel he could hardly believe they came from the same lips that had whispered I love you countless times.

She had said… she had turned their children into doves.

No. Impossible. It had to be some kind of joke—some outlandish fantasy straight out of a poorly written novel.

Yes, that had to be it.

Surely the kids were just hiding somewhere in the house, tucked under the bed or inside a closet, laughing as they waited to be found by their parents in some innocent game.

Even at their most mischievous, their children had always been a blessing. From the moment they were born, Elliott had adored them with all his heart—grateful to have a family again, one he would give everything for. Even his life.

So why…? Why would the Farmer say something so horrible with such certainty? How could she even joke about something like this?

“You don’t believe me?”

Her voice was sharp and cold, each word steel sliding between his ribs.

No, he didn’t want to believe her. But deep down he knew exactly what she was capable of. He’d seen her accomplish things that defied reason, things that bordered on the supernatural.

But their children…

Her eyes, once full of warmth and affection, were now two hollow pits threatening to swallow and tear him apart until nothing of him remained.

She wasn’t lying.

He couldn’t breathe.

Betrayal pierced through him. His stomach churned.

He remembered their children’s laughs, the feeling of holding them for the first time—so fragile, so precious.

He was hyperventilating.

He didn’t even notice when he slid to the floor, his back hitting the wall as his hands clutched at his long hair. He wanted to demand answers, so many answers, but his voice wouldn’t come out.

She leaned in to touch his face. He slapped her hand away without thinking. What was happening? Why was this happening?!

His head spun. His vision blurred. The bitter taste of the coffee she had given him before her confession rose sour in his throat.

He thought he heard soft flapping wings—then saw two small white doves perched on the windowsill. He reached for them, but his limbs were going numb, the drug pulling him downward.

I’m sorry, he thought. Useless. Helpless. Feeling like he was dying.

A familiar embrace—once a refuge, now a prison—wrapped around him. That was the last thing he felt before losing consciousness...

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