Christine threw the door open, her voice rang out, her excitent and relief breaking through as she called into the hallway, "Big brother is awake! He's conscious!"
Her voice echoed, carrying the news through the mansion, bringing a new energy that hadn't been felt in days.
Adrian lay back against his pillow, letting the information sink in as Christine's shouts faded down the corridor.
Fifteen days… it was hard to fathom. He'd missed half a month, drifting sowhere between life and death.
His thoughts drifted back to his encounter with the goddess, the words, the mysterious wager he'd apparently made, and the strange warmth she'd left within him.
As he stared up at the ceiling, Adrian felt the weight of his oath.
Whatever had happened in that void, whatever his promise to the goddess entailed, he knew he would have to get stronger to unravel it all.
At the sa ti, he focused to the "gift" given by the goddess. He could visualize so kind of power swirling inside him. It made him feel warm and comfortable whenever he tried to circulate it through out his body.
Beside that, he also found a token, emitting divinity besides him on his bed, and it had a unique symbol on it, probably to represent Nadia.
Adrian held the token in his hand—a small, yet intricately detailed piece, glowing faintly with a soft, celestial light.
Its surface was smooth and rounded, yet carved with a unique symbol: a delicate crescent moon entwined with a spiral of stars, symbolizing the endless cycle of fate and destiny under Nadia’s watch.
The moon’s curve was embedded with tiny points of starlight that shimred as he moved it, almost like an unspoken ssage from the goddess herself.
The token emanated a faint warmth, pulsing with a subtle divine energy that left no doubt about its origin.
anwhile, in the mansion, it didn’t take long for the commotion to reach every corner of the mansion.
Footsteps thundered down the hallways, echoing as Adrian’s family started rushed towards his room.
The door swung open again, and Isabella was the first to burst into the room. But she was barely recognizable.
Her usual grace and composure were gone; she looked disheveled, her hair loosely pinned and stray strands framing her face.
Her skin was pale, her cheeks devoid of the color they normally held, and dark circles underscored her worried, red-rimd eyes.
This wasn’t the mother Adrian had always known—the woman who carried herself with elegance and strength.
Now, she looked fragile, broken, like she’d carried the weight of the world on her shoulders for the past two weeks.
Isabella hesitated just a mont, staring at him, her hands trembling. Then she moved forward, falling to her knees beside his bed, clutching his hand tightly.
She looked up at him, her expression full of regret and guilt.
“Oh, Adrian…” Her voice was barely a whisper, choked with emotion. “I’m so, so sorry… If I had only told you everything, if I hadn’t kept you in the dark about my condition, you wouldn’t have been forced to take on such a burden. This… this is all my fault…”
Adrian’s heart clenched at the sight of her so vulnerable, so unlike the steadfast mother who’d always stood as his pillar.
He could see how the guilt had eroded her, the way she’d tortured herself with bla. Her hands clutched his tightly, as if afraid he might slip away again.
“Mother… please, don’t say that,” he murmured, his voice gentle but firm. “You had no way of knowing this would happen. I chose to act, knowing the risks. This isn’t your fault.”
But his reassurance only seed to make her guilt deepen. Isabella shook her head, her eyes filling with fresh tears.
“You’re my son, Adrian. I was supposed to protect you. Instead, my own choices left you like this… drifting on the edge of life for fifteen days.”
Her grip tightened as she looked down, a slight tremble in her voice. “I kept pushing you to be strong for all of us, but I never realized… I never wanted it to be at the cost of your life.”
Her words weighed heavily in the room, her despair tangible. Adrian reached out, placing a hand over hers, trying to ease the worry etched across her face.
Seeing her so torn, so deeply burdened by her own actions, filled him with a fierce determination. He’d made it back—for her, for Christine, for everyone who had anxiously awaited his return.
“Mother,” he said softly, “I’m here now. You don’t need to bla yourself anymore.
His fingers gently squeezed hers, hoping to give her so of the strength he’d regained. “I need you by my side, not weighed down by guilt. Together, we’ll face whatever cos next.”
He paused as he cleared the hair strands on her face and continued coming up with an idea to shift the bla.
A thoughtful expression crossed his face, as if he were piecing together sothing complex. Finally, he t her gaze, his eyes steady silently apologizing to the Goddess of Fate.
“Besides, Mother, it’s not even truly your fault. Do you rember how I had changed for better suddenly, how I beca more determined?” He paused for effect.
“That shift was due to one person—or rather, one goddess.”
Isabella’s brow furrowed, and a flicker of confusion flashed across her face. “A goddess?” she echoed, her voice thick with disbelief and a touch of fear. “What do you an, Adrian?”
He nodded, a calm seriousness in his eyes as he recalled the mysterious encounter.
“The Goddess of Fate, Nadia. She’s the one who awakened sothing in , who showed a glimpse of my path… she opened my eyes to the stakes I hadn’t fully understood.”
He paused for a mont to let Isabella digest the information and continued," While I was unconscious that day, she ca over to protect and we had a good talk. It was no more than half an hour for , but in reality, 15 days had passed."
He then took out the token that he had found on his bed, engraved with Nadia's symbol.
He held it up for Isabella to see, and even without touching it, she could feel the weight of its ethereal presence, the quiet authority it held.
Adrian then hugged Isabella and consoled her and said," So, it's not your fault Mom. I was not unconscious for long. Though whatever the reason, I would like to apologize to you for making you worry about . It pains to see you in this condition Mom. I am truly sorry."
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