’Pain?’ He thought to himself. The word suddenly popped into his mind, making him halt in his tracks.
"What pain am I even thinking about?" He muttered to himself, posing the question to no one in particular.
He tried hard to rember, but couldn’t recollect ever encountering a demonic cultivator. Perhaps due to his raging emotions, a mory that had been buried deep within him surfaced again.
He rembered the day when he was running frantically back ho. The dread he felt that day was sothing he had never felt before.
Though it seed unrelated to his ’pain’, that was the only mory he could recollect that seed to give him any clue into it.
Still, it was too vague to provide any real, concrete explanation for him.
The rest of the day ended in a blur for Adrian. He was not able to recollect anything more, which frustrated him.
When he went to sleep that night, he had another nightmare. This ti, though, it was different from the previous ones. In his dream, he saw the dead bodies of his mother and his aunt Celeste.
He cried as he held their cold, lifeless bodies on the ground. He was crying until he saw the vague silhouette of a person manifest in front of him.
He couldn’t make out whether it was a man or a woman. He instinctively felt danger from this person, who was shrouded in mist. He imdiately turned around and started running away.
Before he could go far, the mysterious individual appeared behind him, sending a sword slash to his back. It was then that everything faded to black.
Adrian jolted awake in shock, his body drenched in sweat. He put his hand across his back, trying to feel for a sword wound that was not there.
This ti, he clearly rembered the nightmare. What worried him even more was how real everything felt. He could still rember how cold the bodies of his mother and Aunt Celeste felt.
As soon as he thought of this, he imdiately got out of bed. He rushed towards the garden, back to that sa stone pavilion from before.
From afar, he could see his mother and Aunt Celeste enjoying their morning cup of tea. He heaved a sigh of relief before going back into the manor.
’Strange, it was clearly a dream. Why did I feel so anxious when I thought about Mother and Aunt Celeste?’ Adrian thought as he wandered absentmindedly back to his room.
Lately, things had been weird for him. Everything that had been happening around him wasn’t normal. His recent bout of nightmares made him think that sothing was definitely wrong.
He just couldn’t figure out what was going on.
He returned to his room, but he didn’t sit or rest. Instead, he stood in front of a mirror. His face, though calm, bore the faintest signs of exhaustion: dark circles, pale lips, slightly sunken eyes. None of it matched the ’peaceful’ environnt he was supposedly in.
He turned away, only for the mirror behind him to shimr for a brief mont, like ripples in still water. He spun back, but it was already back to normal.
Just then, a knock could be heard on the door of his room.
"Young master, the Patriarch has requested your presence in his study." The servant stated while bowing.
"Hmm? Why is Father calling for ?" He asked, a bit surprised.
"I apologise, young master, but this lowly one was only tasked to inform you." The servant stated while his head was still bowed and his fists still cupped.
"All right, I’ll go visit him now. You may leave." Adrian responded while dismissing the servant.
After the servant left, he imdiately tidied up his appearance, making himself look presentable.
Satisfied with his makeover, he left his room and headed straight for his father’s study. When he arrived there, he didn’t enter the study imdiately.
He stood outside for a mont, taking a deep breath before knocking on the door three tis.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
"Enter," ca the deep, familiar voice of the Patriarch.
Adrian opened the grand wooden doors and stepped into the study.
The air inside had a faint sll of incense that perated throughout the room. The towering shelves, filled with countless scrolls and books, gave the room an aura of wisdom and authority. Behind a large desk carved from ancient crimsonwood, sat his father, Atlas Thorne, the man Adrian had admired all his life.
He looked up from a scroll and smiled. "Adrian, my son. Co, sit."
Adrian obeyed, though sothing in him hesitated. His father’s tone was warm, but distant, as if spoken through a veil. It was too perfect. Too scripted.
"You called for , Father?"
"Yes," the Patriarch said, placing the scroll aside. "I just wanted to check up on your progress. It seems you haven’t disappointed ." He said with a smile.
"Thank you, Father, I am simply trying my best." He responded in a rather humble tone.
"There is no need to be that humble. Anyway, is there anything you would like to share with ? Anything on your mind?"
His father asked, diffusing the formal atmosphere between them.
Adrian hesitated for a bit before deciding to tell his father what was happening. If there was anyone who could help him make sense of whatever was going on, it would be his father, the Patriarch.
"Actually, there is sothing on my mind. Lately, I’ve been having dreams, Father. Or nightmares. I don’t know anymore. I rember pain. So much pain."
Adrian unloaded all of his pent-up frustration right there on his father. He continued speaking for a few minutes, describing all the scenarios that he had witnessed in his dreams.
He even told him about the scenes of seeing his mother and his aunt dead. When he finally finished speaking, he expected his father to give his opinion.
Rather, he was silent. His face was calm, as if he didn’t hear what Adrian was telling him.
After sitting in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes, Adrian finally couldn’t bear it anymore.
"What do you think, father?" He asked, breaking the silence between them.
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