…
Padraic released a long-winded sigh. “I told her not to do this. She broke the damn man in under a minute!” Padraic griped.
I could hear him smacking his aty hands together as he furiously signed at Cerila. But, of course, I was barely paying attention to him as I could scarcely take my eyes off her. Despite Padraic’s apparent frustration, Cerila didn’t even seem to register him as she gazed into my eyes.
I had been expecting many things from this family reunion. I would often run the scenario in my head before going to bed…what I would say or do. Of course, I knew all that would be for naught when the mont finally arrived. There was no way soone like could plan for sothing so…emotional.
And even with my wildest delusions, I never once imagined Cerila would greet by kissing . And nobody has kissed like that before.
I an, my mother and father kissed when I was little, but I don’t need to be told there was a difference between then and what just happened. Before this, I wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference…but now that I had experienced it… the actions were similar.
They were most definitely not the sa.
My heart was racing in my ears, and I slowly brought a finger to my lips. They felt unusually warm, and I swear they were moister than usual. I felt sothing progressively tug on the back of my shirt, and it was then I realized I had tuned out the entire world. Sowhere along the line, I just stopped listening to my surroundings, only the beating of my heart and the confusion swirling around in my head occupying my thoughts.
The sound of the classroom slowly began to fill my hearing. People were mumbling, and I could hear the voices of confusion and shock starting to spread and gradually get louder. I had completely forgotten where I was…my entire thought process had been solely focused on my family, and I had neglected to consider where I was. As a result, I had broken down, wailed like an infant, and been thoroughly embarrassed in front of the entire class I’d spent nearly a year with.
I felt my face flush, my ears burned, and finally, I felt sothing hit my back. I turned around and caught multiple people watching with wide eyes. So were crying, others were just so confused, and so looked incredibly uncomfortable. I even saw Sylvia standing as straight as a board, unmoving. Her one dark blue eye was so wide I thought it looked bigger than the hole the mask had.
Mila had been tugging at my jacket, and just like everyone else, I had ignored her. Her eyes were red, but she didn’t have a look of sadness, just confusion on her face. “Why—sniff—why are you crying?” she asked .
I rubbed my eyes again, and sure enough, I was still crying. Why was it that I was still crying? My mind is a vortex of conflicting emotions. I also hadn’t realized just how many tears I’d been building up.
Apparently, I hadn’t answered Mila’s question fast enough as she pulled on my shirt again, more tears flowing from her eyes. “Daddy? Daddy, why are you crying?” she asked again in Beastn.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and tried to exhale, but it just ca out as a stuttered breath, like I was trying to breathe in while crying. Which only served to increase my embarrassnt and made sowhat frustrated that I had broken down to this point in front of, well…everyone.
“What did that little girl say?” Mom asked.
I could hear my father shrug as his armor slid over itself. “I don’t know. My Beastn is a little rusty,” my dad comnted.
“This is—”
I finally mustered the willpower to answer Mila’s and my mother’s questions, but when I turned to face my family again, my eyes couldn’t help but fall upon Professor Garrison. During this entire ti, he hadn’t said a single word or dropped his stance. The man was sweating profusely, and it looked like he had dunked his head into a bucket of water.
He maintained his combat-ready stance, his sword high above his head and tip pointed toward us. His entire body was shaking, and I didn’t understand why. He was a War God. Despite his jagged black sword being massive, he should be able to hold his sword above his head for hours. Yet I couldn’t help but feel that Professor Garrison looked about ready to break down or attack….almost in fear.
“Professor?” I questioned.
With my obvious concern, everyone’s eyes followed mine, and we all seemingly cornered him with our gazes. His glasses had been pushed down his nose, most likely due to his short ragged breaths. His green eyes darted around until they eventually locked onto my father.
The professor licked his lips, not in what seed to be anticipation but in an attempt to calm his nerves. “G—g-general? Is that really you?” he struggled to say.
My dad looked at him for a mont with a blank expression that surprised . I had never seen my father look at sobody like that before, but it disappeared as quickly as it ca.
“You…you are Garrison? Right? It’s been a while…you got bigger and those glasses are..uh…nice? Sorry about not recognizing you. Humans tend to age to a point where it’s difficult to rember them,” my dad said awkwardly as he rubbed the back of his head.
I could hear the distinct sound of Professor Garrison swallowing a large amount of saliva. He shook his head from side to side in disbelief. “It…it can’t be you…you died. I watched you get stabbed through the heart. There was nothing. Not even a drop of blood remained. You just vanished.”
My dad shrugged but nodded his head. “Well, I suppose it may have appeared that way…” my dad trailed off. “But I assure you it’s , and I am alive. The tip never did reach .”
Professor Garrison shook his head as if he was ignoring the reality before him. I saw an almost primal fear in his eyes. Even when he fought the Dragon, the professor didn’t seem to be this shaken.
His eyes narrowed and locked onto my mother. “That’s not possible. This can’t be real…I watched her kill you. So what are you doing with the Lightning Witch of Tel’an’duth?” he spat.
The Lightning Witch of Tel’an’duth?
I looked at Mom, and she, unlike my father, wasn’t bothering to hide her hostility toward the professor. Instead, she sent him a glare full of hate and resentnt. It was enough to surprise even . I had seen my mother angry before but never had I seen her look so nacing.
She brought a slim finger to her chin and smiled devilishly at the professor as recognition flashed in her golden eyes. “Ah, I rember you. I’m surprised you survived my poison and being stabbed in the liver. You were that fresh-faced War God, were you not? The one that got posted to Ryre Hold on the border?”
I watched as Professor Garrison tightened the grip around his sword and practically snarled at Mom. Just when I thought I couldn’t get any more confused, it seed I was once again proven wrong. What the hell are these two talking about? Poison? Stabbing soone in the liver?
“I may have never seen your face, but I’d never forget those eyes or that voice. You…you killed everyone! Explain—”
“Stand down, Garrison,” my father ordered in a cold voice.
Professor Garrison winced at the frigidness of my father’s command, but he maintained a solid grip on his sword, and Mila grabbed my waist from behind. Things were escalating and showed no signs of cooling down. Even Bowen was watching with a curious expression, seemingly okay with how things were playing out.
I forced down all my emotions into the pit of my stomach and felt a cold wave wash over . No matter what I felt at the mont, I wouldn’t stand for this.
I gently removed Mila’s arms and walked forward until I was nearly at the point of his sword. “Put down the blade, Professor. You are pointing that at my family,” I said coldly.
For the first ti in a while, the professor looked straight in the eyes. Sothing seed to have clicked in his head as he slowly stood up, his sword disappearing into thin air. “This is…your family?” he asked hesitantly.
“Yes.”
Professor Garrison slowly backed away from until he bumped into the wall. I wasn’t sure if he ceased his hostility because I was threatening him or because he actually valued enough as a student. If I had to make an honest guess, I think it’s the latter.
He allowed his body to slide down until he was in a crouched position, leaving a trail of sweat down the wall. He placed his face in his hands without another word.
I turned around to find literally everyone watching . Dozens upon dozens of eyes were watching . Even my parents seed surprised at my actions as they looked at with wide eyes. Then, finally, I looked at Mila; she was nervously rubbing her hands together while her little ears were flat against her cap.
I could only sigh.
“We should leave.”
—
Bowen guided us toward the sa ho Sylvia and I stayed in when we first arrived at Forward University. We kept the conversations at a minimum as we all knew there would be a long-winded session ahead of us.
I, of course, introduced Mila and Sylvia to my family but only briefly. I also didn’t imdiately ntion that Mila was technically my daughter, as I thought that would need a rather lengthy explanation to avoid having my family freak out in public. I would absolutely explain things in great detail soon enough. Sylvia simply gave a rather ek greeting and said nothing more, following behind in brooding silence.
We were nearly at the front door when sobody poked in the side. I turned to look, and Cerila was just smiling at . she asked .
The nervousness encroaching on my heart made hesitate for a mont, but I pushed through it.
Cerila kept pace with but made an unfamiliar gesture to . I must have had a dumb look on my face as she quickly blushed and began apologizing.
Ah…of course, that’s the case.
Without around, there must have been dozens of new words Cerila had to co up with to fill the gaps she was missing. I tried to write down every word and sign for her that I could, but it wasn’t as simple as just writing a letter. I also figured as ti progressed, we would continue to learn at a consistent pace…but life interrupted that.
But I have to wonder what she was trying to ask . If it was just a basic conversation, there shouldn’t have been this much of a disconnect. Or maybe she has fully developed a sub-version of Sign Language at this point? Either way…
I explained.
That brought a gentle smile to her face as her tail swished side to side. Cerila seemingly wanted to tell sothing as she closed her eyes and wiggled her ears, a tell she had when she was thinking hard about sothing. It made happy to see that she hadn’t changed that much.
I also had many questions for her, but I felt like now wasn’t the ti. Nobody seed willing to talk about Cerila just up and kissing like that, and I had a feeling getting into the finer details would take things in the wrong direction. I also felt that this was a conversation she and I needed to have…in private.
And why does that make so nervous? I was never nervous to speak to her…why is it that I’m feeling like this now of all tis? Shouldn’t I be excited? Thrilled? Ecstatic to be with her now? This is what I’ve been waiting for almost seven years. Why am I anxious?
I pushed those thoughts away for what felt like the umpteenth ti this hour and decided to have a more pressing question answered.
I had crafted a spell that day to do multiple things. I had the rock face reach out and grab Cerila, encasing her in a tomb of stone. Of course, the tricky part for back then was making sure I did it so that Vampire didn't notice her, and I had to make holes at very specific angles so as to not have Cerila drown from the sea or rainwater. There was also the quick decision to leave enough holes and space so she could breathe while also not being too big to be instantly noticed. Thankfully, the darkness and the storm covered any of my shortcomings.
Either way, crafting such an intricate spell at seven years old when I was nearly dead…I just got lucky…and if nobody had found her…then it would have been for nothing.
A look of profound sadness washed over her, but she never stopped smiling, even if it seed strained now.
She shook her head.
Dad? Ah…of course, it was only a matter of ti until Cerila began calling my parents Mom and Dad.
Speaking of Dad, that brought to light a whole new question. My dad has been looking for for sowhere between five and six years. That ans he left Mom and Dallin behind, most likely. And I’m confident that the sowhat awkward atmosphere wasn’t just my fault.
Dallin stuck to Mom like glue while Bowen questioned him much as he did to when I first revealed myself. Dad was walking a few paces behind them in complete silence. I couldn’t see his face, but I could see that he was looking down at Dallin. I can’t be sure how long it took to gather them all up or who was last to be picked up…but sothing tells my dad hasn’t been around Dallin much. And that must be eating away at him.
He left one son behind to look for another. A brutal, heart-wrenching choice. It made feel good that he made that choice for my sake, but it couldn’t have been easy for him or Mom. And it certainly wasn’t easy on Dallin.
Yet…Dallin doesn’t seem to resent …why is that, I wonder?
If I were in his shoes, I might just hate the brother I’d never t. The sa brother who disappeared and, in turn, took his only father. And I know my disappearance must have crushed Mom, which most likely affected Dallin.
He has every right to hate . Or could it be that he is a reincarnation?
I focused my Dragon eye on him directly and ensured nobody else was in my direct vision. I felt that if I fed even an ounce of mana into my eye with this many people here at this distance, I’d run the risk of knocking myself out cold. After all, I had three War God level people walking in front of .
It still brought a wave of discomfort and sharp pain in the back of my head which felt like the visual cortex part of my brain. Of course, that didn’t surprise . My body was not ant to process information like this, and I doubt my brain has adapted to my new eye so soon. That was probably going to take so more ti. Either way, I ignored the pain and fed mana into my eye.
Ah…that’s a relief.
Dallin’s tiny soul seed to be entirely normal for soone his age, as it was comparable to Mila’s. I felt a piercing gaze and, out of instinct, turned to look at Cerila. I was rewarded with searing pain, and a blinding white light blocked the vision in my left eye. I stumbled forward, and it appeared I hadn’t learned my lesson.
I cut mana off to my eye imdiately and found my arm being enveloped in a sweet softness. Cerila had caught and was stopping from falling to the ground. I heard Sylvia shuffle behind , but she stopped, and everyone turned to look at the commotion.
I hadn’t even thought Cerila might have been at War God level, but it appears she is. Her soul is far brighter than mine, which explains many things growing up. Despite both of us getting similar training, Cerila was always a better mage than . Her advantage in mana enhancent ca from the fact she had a headstart and was older than , along with being a Beastn.
However, it seems she was always destined to best in this regard. Perhaps her natural talent just exceeds mine that much? Does she just not realize her potential? When does sobody finally realize they are at the level of a War God or an Exarch?
Cerila locked our arms together and let her head rest on my shoulder. While thinking about souls and Dallin and our family situation, I realized that I had neglected to communicate with her as I got lost in thought.
She brought a single hand up to sign.
Cerila gently placed her hand on mine and stopped my attempt to sign; sothing told she ant sothing very specific when she said that. She looked over at and just smiled brightly at . I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up, and my heart pounded in my chest. It was a beautiful and heartwarming smile. There was a part of that even had to suck in a tear.
It felt like I had blinked, and Cerila had grown up before my very eyes…
I heard the pitter-patter of shoes as Mila bumped into . She looked up at with a mixture of concern and genuine confusion. “Daddy, what are you doing with your hands?” Mila asked in Beastn.
I was sowhat confused as to why she was defaulting to Beastn, but I was unbelievably thankful for it. Perhaps she felt nervous around all these new people I was interacting with. I imagine that family must “sll” like each other to so degree, which would ss with her senses. Of course, that’s just a guess on my part, but maybe I can ask at a later date.
“I am talking to her using my hands,” I explained.
That only seed to grow Mila’s confusion more as she furrowed her brows. “Why?”
“Because she can’t hear us.”
Mila looked at like I had said sothing stupid, and her blue eyes slowly drifted over to Cerila. She looked her up and down, and eventually, Mila just sort of gazed at Cerila’s ears with a confused expression.
Perhaps for a Beastn and a child at that, explaining deafness may be a tricky thing. As people with functional hearing, it’s a weird thought to think about deafness, true deafness, that is. Even if Mila or I were in a completely and utterly silent and soundproof room, we would still hear ourselves breathing and the beating of our hearts if things got quiet enough. However, Cerila, sobody who was born completely deaf, had never heard a sound in her entire life.
Mila just gave up on asking and looked at with a face that was begging to explain things to her. I chuckled slightly and patted her on the head. “Cerila can’t hear you because she was born that way. She has never heard a sound before and, because of that, can’t hear us talk.”
Mila once again looked over to Cerila, and Cerila just gave her a friendly smile and waved. Mila stared blankly at her in return. “But she has ears?”
“I know that. Perhaps I’ll teach you so Sign Language. Maybe I should have done that bit sooner,” I told her.
Mila nodded her head, seemingly unconvinced by my explanation, but she didn’t ask any more questions. However, I still felt everyone’s eyes on . Mom and Dad looked at with expressions that practically scread for to explain myself. But the sa reason that has kept them quiet until now seems to be stopping them.
Even Padraic was giving a side eye, and I could tell he was holding in a snarky comnt, as now wasn’t the ti for that. Padraic used to be a master of making things awkward, but he may have learned to restrain himself sowhat over the years. I wasn’t sure if that was a byproduct of growing up or if the stress of my disappearance forced him to change.
And I have a terrible feeling it may be the latter.
I heard sobody coming from behind , and I was pushed slightly while my other arm was wrapped in warmth. I was face to face with Sylvia. Her bronze mask had been polished and slightly reflected my face. I looked…tired and beat down. My eyes were puffy, and my face was red.
To be honest, I looked terrible. I felt like I should be far more excited. Did I just cry all my emotions out and was left with nothing but this anxiety? I…don’t know anymore.
But Sylvia managed to get my heart rate up, and my arm went deeper into her chest, she even tugged on slightly, and everyone was watching with wide eyes. Even Padraic seed surprised. The only two people who weren’t confused were Mila, smiling softly, and Bowen, who had a knowing look. Mom took a step forward, but Dad stopped her with a shake of his head.
Sohow we had managed to communicate a lot of things just now without speaking a single word…so of it I had missed, but Sylvia’s frustration was evident to everyone. She had been staying silent this entire ti for a reason…a reason that I believed was that I had been ignoring her.
I had barely spoken to her since I found out Lin was Nyx, and with the arrival of my family taking all my attention away, I had neglected her. This only added to pressure building in my heart, and I felt like I should be enjoying this, but I wasn’t. I wanted to just crawl into bed and let a different deal with this tomorrow.
Either way, Bowen guided us forward. We walked into the ho, and as I was familiar with it, I didn’t need to be told where to go. I quickened my pace to get in front of everyone and opened the door to a sitting room. My heart sank into my chest as a pair of green eyes glared at from behind two pieces of thick glass.
Everyone had changed to so degree…even I had changed significantly in the last seven years. But…the man sitting in that chair had changed the most. Grandpa was, of course…always old. He was over eighty years old, and for a Human in this world, that’s ancient.
But even so, despite his physical age, he never seed to struggle to do anything. There was always a certain power to his presence and how he moved and interacted with things and people, which made second-guess his age. He was independent and never required assistance to move around, even so much as walking around the village as a doctor. I never once thought he would have been incapable of his duties.
But the man who was sunk into that leather armchair looks old. Very old.
His face looked like it had gained double or triple the wrinkles it had before, and he looked about ready to take a nap. Even his breathing seed labored and tired. That edge he had to him appeared to have withered away with his health. Even those erald green eyes that helped usher into this world looked like they had lost so of their luster.
I wanted to lash out and yell at the world for letting this happen. It wasn’t fair that I didn’t get to spend more ti with him. I always knew deep down he wouldn’t live forever…I an, it’s impossible for him…I’d live a much longer life than Grandpa. But just because it was reality didn’t make feel any better.
I just hadn’t realized just how much I missed this old man. So now I just need to make up for the lost ti.
But his deanor didn’t seem to have changed. I couldn’t discern the look in his eyes. Was he happy to see ? Angry? Disappointed? I just couldn’t get a bead on it. But I could tell he was looking at expectantly.
I took a deep breath to calm my frayed nerves. “Hello, Rorken.”
I heard a surprised gasp from Mom, but Grandpa didn’t seem the least bit shocked. Instead, a smile tugged on the corners of his mouth, which was all I needed to know to discern the truth. It was like he expected to know at this point. But now that I had seen Grandpa again, I was confident that he was undoubtedly Rorken Bloodfallen, the Exarch from the Holy Kingdom that attempted to invade Syn’nari.
si.imgur/3eIbeY2.jpg
I wasn’t sure how to feel about it. Was it wrong that I didn’t seem to care? I can hardly judge a man fighting on orders from his country. Whether they were right or wrong doesn’t matter to a soldier. There’s also the reason why he chose to stay and hide away in a village of the country he attempted to invade. He could have just gone ho and retired if he wanted a simple life. If he were as strong as people said he was, not many would have been able to stop him.
“It’s good to see you, boy. Why don’t you sit down? We have much to talk about.”
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