Chapter 78
Written by Bayzo Albion
"Knowledge holds power," her voice echoed softly, reverberating through the stacks as if the library itself leaned in to listen. "It's the only force that can level the field between the weak and the mighty. You're drawn to it, despite your fragile form? Is this a conscious choice... or does your soul call out, unaware of its own yearning?"
She glided ahead, her movements fluid and soundless, like a breeze rustling through autumn leaves. Her amber eyes scanned the titles with practiced speed, and soon her fingers alighted on one volume.
It was an odd book. The cover split evenly: one half stark black, the other pristine white, evoking the duality of yin and yang. No title, no author's name—just a delicate emblem on the binding, resembling an eye or perhaps a star, embroidered in shimmering silver thread.
"Here it is," she said, extending it toward me with reverence.
The tome was massive, its weight a world unto itself, far too cumbersome for my small hands. I grasped at it eagerly, but my fingers slipped, and it thudded to the floor with a muffled thump.
Mother's lips quirked upward, suppressing a smile at first, but then her eyes softened with genuine amusement.
"Let me help you," she offered, kneeling beside me.
Her hands enveloped mine, guiding them with the steady patience of a mentor shaping a protégé. Together, we opened the book. Page by page, a vast, enigmatic realm unfurled before me—mysterious, brimming with potential. In that instant, I realized: this was no child's plaything. It was my first brush with what would become my greatest weapon.
The opening pages captivated me with illustrations—simple yet hypnotic sketches. Lines and symbols formed a map, charting the flow of magic through the human body. At its core, a tiny nucleus nestled in the solar plexus. From it, mana streamed outward in delicate rivulets, coursing through invisible meridians like blood through veins, nourishing every fiber before cycling back.
I turned the pages hungrily. Formulas emerged—dense clusters of arcane symbols, rigid as incantations yet beautiful as a starlit canopy. I could scarcely grasp their meaning, but something deep within resonated, as if I'd glimpsed these patterns in a forgotten dream.
"Still fussing over him?" a voice intruded from behind.
Mother didn't look up from the book.
"No matter what my son becomes—frail or wayward," she replied evenly, "in this world, he can still contribute. Society doesn't need only heroes. Sometimes, a person who refuses to yield is enough."
"You still cling to those fairy tales?" The voice hardened, laced with a hiss of frustration. His lips thinned into a grim line, eyes flashing with irritation.
Mother raised her head slowly. Her tone, once placid, turned frigid, slicing through the air like a winter gale.
"I'm simply doing what I wish. Does that bother you?"
I froze, a shiver racing down my spine. Even the pages in my grasp seemed to absorb her chill. *Magic?* The thought flickered in my mind. *Is this the kind of magic that channels human emotions, making them tangible, almost alive?*
"I'm just trying to spare you the pain," he said, his voice softening, as if delivering an unavoidable truth.
Mother glanced down at me, a subtle smile touching her lips.
"You can't escape suffering," she replied quietly, but her words rang with tempered steel. "All I can do is act. So I won't regret standing idle when I could have made a difference."
He stepped closer. His features bore traces of elven heritage: ears slightly elongated, though not as elegantly pointed as Mother's. From afar, they could pass for siblings—high cheekbones, raven hair, and the same haunting sorrow in their eyes.
"One last word: you're leading your child to torment," he said bitterly, not as a threat, but as fate's decree.
"He's your child too," Mother countered sharply.
Those words struck me like lightning. Instinctively, I reached up to touch my ears—round, human, utterly unpointed. A storm brewed inside me.
*What...? This doesn't make sense... My ears are human, even though my parents are elves?*
"Why..." Mother continued, her voice wavering yet resolute. "Why won't you let your bloodline endure? Why wish death upon him instead of granting him a chance?"
He averted his gaze, wrestling with inner demons.
"Because I truly believe: death of the soul is far worse than death of the body. This path... it will shatter him from within."
I stood between them, poised on the edge of two colliding worlds. Each pulled me toward their truth, and neither promised salvation.
"Why are you silent?" he asked suddenly, his tone laced not with judgment, but raw pain—as if he already knew the answer but clung to hope for something different.
"I don't know..." Mother lifted her head, uncertainty flickering in her eyes, though her voice held steady. "You said I had a choice. But every road leads to betrayal or loss."
My parents fell silent, as if they'd caught the hush in the air and decided to let it linger, unwilling to fuel the argument any further. The quiet wrapped around us like a soft blanket, heavy with unspoken words.
I turned my gaze to her—my mother—and for a moment, I barely recognized her. She was breathtakingly beautiful, not in the way women in the mortal world were, where beauty always came at a cost, demanding sacrifices and leaving scars. No, here in this paradise, her allure shone with flawless perfection, embodying the very essence of motherhood, stripped of pain, age, and fear. And yet, that made her all the more terrifying—untouchable, almost unreal, like a dream that could shatter at any moment.
*Is this what Paradise wants? To reduce me to some base animal?* The thought flickered through my mind, sharp and unwelcome.
Beauty in this realm was too absolute, too all-consuming. It enveloped you, sapped your will, and overwhelmed your senses until reason faded into the background. I could feel primal instincts stirring within me, ones that should have remained dormant, buried deep. They clawed at the edges of my consciousness, urging me toward something forbidden.
Fear gripped me—not because it felt wrong, but because it felt so effortless, so seductive.
As I wrestled with these thoughts, she smiled at me—the kind of smile only a mother gives in the innocence of childhood, when you still believe the universe revolves around you alone. It was warm, inviting, and it pulled at my heartstrings with an almost hypnotic force.
I averted my eyes, unable to bear it.
*If Paradise can twist even the holiest bonds into temptation... where does it end? What are its limits?*
I tried to pull away from her embrace, but she was stronger than she appeared. Her arms, so soft and warm on the surface, held me with an effortless grip, as if I were truly an infant in her care. She drew me close—gently, lovingly—but there was something suffocating in that tenderness. The heat of her body seemed to drain my resolve, pulling me under like a warm tide. My eyelids grew heavy, my mind fogged over. I was drifting into sleep, surrendering without a fight to something sweet and utterly wrong.
"If you coddle him too much, he'll grow up weak and helpless," my father's voice cut through the haze, sharp as a slap.
Those words jolted me back to reality, restoring the weight of my body, my sense of self, my lingering fear. I wrenched myself free, and this time, her arms relented, releasing me with a reluctant sigh.
I stood there, gasping for breath, my heart pounding in my temples like a war drum.
*That was too close...*
Glancing around, I noticed how Paradise seemed to glow even brighter, as if trying to mask what had just happened, to bury the unease under layers of ethereal light.
*This place disappoints me,* I thought, and in that instant, I felt it for the first time: not everything here was a gift meant for pure bliss. Something insidious lurked beneath, intent on keeping me fragile, dependent.
I remained there, breathing heavily, the ghost of her embrace still tingling on my skin like the remnants of warm water after a bath. Part of me yearned to return to her arms—to lie down, drift off, and dissolve into that comfort. It wasn't dangerous; it was... blissful.
"If you coddle him too much, he'll grow up weak and helpless," my father repeated, his tone steady, like he was reciting from some ancient manual of wisdom.
*Mother, you shouldn't be this beautiful... not like this,* I muttered inwardly, keeping my eyes downcast. *It's against the rules. Against safety. Against common sense. By my humble divine authority, I veil your face with a mask. Your criminal beauty—it's too dangerous. I'm human. I must remain human.*
What if someone was watching? From beyond the Fourth Wall, perhaps... or the spirits of departed ancestors, peering curiously over the edge of my life's stage.
*Better to play it safe,* I added in a near-whisper to myself.
The mask I conjured was delicate, ephemeral—like the gossamer shadow of dawn's first light. It only appeared under my gaze, as if reality itself hesitated to conceal her radiance from the world. But I knew: if I stared too long...
...the magic might falter.
...or I might.
"You're hiding him from the truth again," my father said, his eyes on her, a mix of accusation and pity in his voice.
"I'm giving him time," she replied softly, her gaze unwavering. "If the world is so eager to break him, let his childhood at least serve as a shield."
"But a shield can easily become a cage."
"And what's better?" She smiled, though pain laced the expression. "Let him learn to walk before he learns to fall."