The port of Reisen village was alive with the celebratory echoes of our victory, but within the jubilant crowd, I felt an inexplicable pull towards the streets. The silent streets were a wonder. Everyone seemed to be busy with the celebrations. It wasn't too late before I realised that I had wandered too far away and I decided to go back. There, standing like a silent sentinel against the revelry, was the enigmatic figure of my mother, the Empress.
The Empress stood amidst the shifting shadows, her regal presence accentuated by the contrast of her fiery red hair cascading down her shoulders. Like molten strands, the vibrant hue framed her face, setting ablaze the stark simplicity of her attire. Her eyes, a mesmerizing shade of gold mirroring the my own, held an enigmatic depth that hinted at the complexities veiled beneath her composed exterior.
Draped in a simple white robe, its fabric flowing with an ethereal grace, she embraced an understated elegance. The robe, adorned only by the subtlest of embellishments, exuded a sense of purity and purpose. A hood concealed part of her countenance, casting a mysterious allure as it framed her features in soft shadows.
Despite the unassuming nature of her attire, the Empress commanded attention, an embodiment of quiet strength and innate majesty. The red and gold palette, woven into the tapestry of her appearance, whispered of a potent lineage and a connection to the intricate threads of destiny that intertwined with my own journey.
I approached her, drawn by a mixture of curiosity and a yearning to unravel the mysteries that shrouded our relationship. As I neared, she turned, her eyes meeting mine with a depth that hinted at untold stories.
"Who?" She asked, sounding oblivious. It was then that I realised that I was concealing my original features using magic. I removed my magic and also my veil to show her my face.
It was at that moment she realised who I was. She seemed shocked. She murmured something around the lines of, "So it was you who…", but before she could complete, we suddenly heard footsteps approaching and without uttering a word, she wrapped her cloak around me, pulling me close to her chest. She seemed to be hiding me.
Her scent, a blend of mystery and authority, surrounded me, offering a momentary respite from the joyous chaos around us. Yet, beneath the cloak's warmth, I sensed an undercurrent of tension, as if she harbored a secret she hesitated to reveal. The robe partially covered one of my eyes, allowing me to see the other side and not completely blocking my view.
The tranquillity was shattered when my protective instincts kicked in, I felt someone who would hurt her was approaching. I saw a sword tied to her robe at her waist and instinctively, I reached for the sword at her waist, ready to confront the perceived danger. But before my fingers could grasp the hilt, her gentle touch halted my actions, and I found myself restrained by an unseen force.
The approaching figures were revealed to be her bodyguards, including a stern-faced man—the head of the army, her brother. I was a bit relieved it was not someone trying to hurt her. The family ties that bound us became apparent in that charged moment, the interplay of power and duty unfolding before me.
Her brother's scolding for engaging in what he deemed a romantic conversation unveiled a side of my mother hidden beneath her stoic exterior. Did she engage in relationships without my father's knowledge? A complex exchange ensued, revealing a familial discord that added another layer of complexity to the shadows of my past.
She informed her brother that the issue of enforced slavery had been resolved, their mission accomplished. With an air of regality, she declared their departure, her decision leaving no room for dissent. The brother, displeased by her apparent distraction, reluctantly acquiesced, and the bodyguards prepared to leave.
Caught in the crossfire of familial discord, my mind became clouded with confusion. The emotions swirling around me—misunderstood protective instincts, scoldings, and veiled conversations—formed a fog that obscured the clarity I sought.
As my mother, sensing my internal turmoil, removed the cloak and turned to me, her eyes locking mine and seeking an understanding that eluded her.
She whispered, "Do you hate me that much to kill me?" In her attempt to decipher my conflicted expression, she had misinterpreted my protective instincts as resentment.
The unspoken question hung in the air—did her son hate her that much? The notion was far from the truth. Despite the emotional turmoil, her hand rested on mine, which lingered near the sword strapped to her waist. She swiftly slapped my hand, disappointment etched across her face, tugging at the strings of my heart.
"Don't attempt to snatch someone's sword like that again. It can inflict unintended pain if your intention is not to harm while also hurting you if not executed properly," she advised, her tone carrying a mixture of sternness and concern. I nodded in understanding. The stinging sensation from her hand, a form of discipline familiar from childhood, wasn't physically intense, yet this time, it resonated on an emotional level. I removed my hand and massaged it a bit. The hurt this time pierced deeper, a poignant ache born from the weight of being misunderstood.
Before I could unravel the threads of misunderstanding, she declared,"I can't die yet," leaving me standing there, cloaked in emotional shadows that surrounded us.
I made the decision to follow her, compelled by a mixture of confusion and concern. Overhearing snippets of conversation among the bodyguards, I glimpsed fragments of a past I had never fully grasped—mentions of a hurried marriage to the Emperor, bearing his child, and a mysterious reason that had propelled her into such a union.
The journey back to the palace was shrouded in an unsettling silence. My memories remained clouded, and the revelation of a mother's vulnerability left me emotionally adrift. The woman I had known as my mother, a figure of cold authority, had unveiled a side of herself that shattered my preconceptions. Everything happening was for a bigger, greater cause.
As we reached back to the palace, my mind continued to grapple with conflicting emotions. The Emperor, sensing my distress, found me on the verge of tears. Overwhelmed by the weight of revelations, I confessed what I had witnessed. The Emperor, his expression a mix of concern and understanding, promised to provide clarity once we returned to the palace.
Back in the palace, caught in the turmoil of conflicting emotions, I decided to conceal the storm within. I put on a facade, pretending that everything was fine, masking the heartache that still lingered beneath the surface.
Amy, perceptive and empathetic, sensed the disquiet within me. In a quiet moment she called me via the communication ring, she extended her support, a reassuring presence in the tumultuous sea of emotions. Grateful for her presence and such a keen sight to even notice I was not feeling myself, I took solace in her words, a flicker of hope kindling in the recesses of my troubled heart.
As I reflected on the events that had transpired, I wondered about the mysterious currents that connected our fates. The celebration in Reisen village had given way to a veiled reality, and I could only hope that the threads of destiny would gradually untangle, revealing the true tapestry that bound us all together.