I opened my strained eyes, blinking rapidly as the blinding golden light gradually faded. My vision was a blur of radiant afterimages, the world slowly sharpening into focus.
The first thing I saw made freeze.
A man sat upon an intricately carved throne-like chair, his posture relaxed, head resting against a raised hand. His hair was obsidian black, sleek and gleaming under the ambient light, while his eyes—scarlet and piercing—t mine with a knowing glint. His features... they were sharp, elegant, eerily familiar.
He was a spitting image of —or perhaps it was the other way around.
Varek Sanguis. Einar’s father.
He didn’t radiate an overwhelming presence like Ness or Ebon. There was no soul-crushing aura, no oppressive force pressing down on . Instead, he felt... human. Strangely grounded.
His crimson gaze lingered on for a few seconds before a smirk curled on his lips.
"You’re not possessed," he said, voice smooth and casual. "Good for you."
Possessed? Then the realization struck. Laura. She had snitched on . Claid I was overtaken by an evil entity after seeing the changes in . The letter he sent had been blunt—he wanted to confirm the truth for himself.
Now it made sense.
Varek straightened from his throne and stood, vanishing in the blink of an eye and reappearing right in front of .
I didn’t flinch. Didn’t step back. Just t his gaze and held my ground.
His smile widened slightly, and he placed a firm hand on my shoulder.
"Good," he said, patting once. "You’ve gone from a spineless brat to a spine-full brat."
I squinted at him, my expression sowhere between deadpan and exhausted. ’Is it my fate to get roasted by every single person I et?’
Maybe he sensed my internal grumbling. He coughed lightly, changing the subject. "Anyway. The banquet’s starting soon. You should get changed."
He paused as if rembering sothing important. "And for the record, the invitation wasn’t solely to test if you were possessed. Your presence is required. Don’t take offense."
I gave a nonchalant shrug, though his words lingered. From their perspective, I had changed dramatically in the past few months. Still... being accused of possession stung a little.
’Even though Einar technically is...’ I thought, amused and conflicted all at once.
Then a far more pressing issue surfaced in my mind. "Wait! I don’t have anything to wear!"
I looked down at myself. Drenched in black pus, dried blood, and sweat. And not all of it was mine.
Varek raised an eyebrow as if surprised, then snapped his fingers casually. At first, I didn’t understand what he was doing... until he pointed a single forefinger toward .
I followed the gesture—and saw it.
My entire outfit had transford.
Gone were the battle-torn, gri-stained clothes. In their place was a regal crimson and black suit, tailored to perfection. Ruby-like embellishnts adorned the cuffs and collar, glowing faintly with arcane energy. The fabric shimred subtly with every movent, a strange blend of royalty and nace.
A rich scent clung to , lavender-like but deeper, more ancient—perhaps a blend of elixirs or rare perfus. I inhaled it, surprised by how... clean I felt.
Infinitely better than dunking my head in a ruined fountain.
Varek stepped forward, adjusting my collar with an oddly fatherly touch. "Apologies. I forgot—you’ve never been here before. But look on the bright side. Now, both father and son can attend the banquet together."
I didn’t know how to respond. Should I feel happy? Conflicted? It did feel... good. Knowing Einar was loved. Despite being a Sanguis—feared and labeled dangerous—his father didn’t seem cruel. In fact, he felt like a genuinely affectionate parent.
One who didn’t discriminate between his one thousand and seventeen children.
But a question lingered, heavy in my mind.
"...Where is Mother?"
The mont I asked, Varek’s expression shifted ever so slightly. Just a flicker of hesitation before he dramatically waved his hands.
"Ohhh, about that... she and I had a teeny-tiny disagreent. She’s upset."
Sothing about the way he said that scread massive fallout. I narrowed my eyes, ready to grill him further—
Until a soft voice called out from behind .
"Einar, leave that cheating bastard alone."
I froze.
That voice.
lodious, gentle, tinged with affection and exasperation. I turned my head, heart pounding in my chest.
And then I saw her.
She moved toward us with quiet grace, black silk-like hair cascading over her shoulders. Her face was oval-shaped, ethereal in beauty, with sharp raven-black eyes and thick, expressive brows. Her features were elegant, noble... but also heartbreakingly familiar.
She looked exactly like soone I had known in another life.
My mother.
From Earth.
The resemblance hit like a freight train.
I was paralyzed. My heart ached with a depth I hadn’t realized existed. Forgotten mories surged forward like a flood—my real mother’s gentle hands, her soft scolding voice, her warmth, her laugh, the loving beatings she doled out when I broke sothing important...
My lips trembled. Without warning, hot tears began to stream down my cheeks.
I didn’t think I had it in to cry. I thought I’d buried the past, forgotten Earth, my family, everything. I thought I was fine. That I had moved on.
But seeing her... this stranger who looked like her... shattered my carefully built walls.
The mother approached quickly, concern in her eyes.
"What happened, child?" she asked, her voice tender, filled with genuine worry. "Why are you crying?"
Her gentle presence unraveled further.
I tried to hold back the sobs. Failed.
She wrapped her arms around without hesitation, her hands gently clasping the back of my neck as she pulled my head to her chest. She held close, one hand softly caressing my hair.
"It’s alright, Einar," she whispered. "Don’t cry. Don’t cry..."
She repeated the words like a lullaby, a soothing mantra ant to nd a broken soul.
And I let her.
I leaned into her, seeking the comfort I’d forgotten I needed. The comfort of a mother’s embrace.
"I miss my family..." I murmured, barely audible.
But they heard .
The mother’s arms tightened around in response. Varek stepped closer too, his expression solemn. He reached out and gently stroked my head.
"You’re not alone," she whispered. "We’re here now. With you."
She kissed the top of my head, and the silence that followed was warm—not awkward, not heavy.
Just quiet.
The kind of silence you never want to break.
And in that embrace, in that mont of vulnerability, I realized sothing.
Even though I wasn’t the real Einar...
Even though this wasn’t my world...
Maybe—just maybe—I could belong here too.
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