Chapitre 11: 11
Warmth, that's the first thing I feel upon my rebirth. Like a child wrapped tight in clothes and blankets to keep away cold, I'm at peace. Beyond warmth, my perception stretches, like tendrils, criss-crossed and entwined to form a net of sort, neither tangible nor visible but present all the same, I could feel, see even, in a manner of sort that which was around me, I was not in my room, this place I was in felt incredibly familiar yet unfamiliar as well.
I felt strange all over, but net like perception felt the air, it tasted no danger, infact, I felt more safe than I have ever been, like nothing could harm me, the feeling was unexplainable, so many things where, but slowly, I was coming to, my muscles flexed and twitched, my eyelids sprang open suddenly and got partially blinded by an influx of bright yet soft light. And with the suddenness of a ghost trying to scare the innocence out of a child, I sat upright, my spine straight as rod, my senses dull yet alert and my perception like net fishing and feeling for danger, I felt life flow through me.
My heart thumped gently behind it cage, it pumped blood through my veins, as the blanket fell off me I felt the breeze from the window on my right tickle my skin, serenity suffused the air, I sat there not moving, taking it all in whilst I waited to recover my sight.
"Edel!!, he's awake, my son's awake, let me in. LET ME IN THIS INSTANT!!". And with that, the door swung open, with speed like wind, mother was beside me, her eyes wet and red with tears, her face paler than usual, her cheeks sunken, her lips white and cracked. Mother looked broken, like she was missing a part of her, as though an organ had been ripped brutally from within her. I had never seen her like this, it pained me more than I was ever willing to admit. She held me tight in a hug, yet keeping enough distance perhaps in fear of causing something unforseen, me dying again maybe, it seemed stupid, but understandable still.
Whilst she cried bitterly as she held me, whispering sweet nothings about my wellbeing, father strode into the room, he didn't look any different, yet my newly acquired perception screamed that he was dangerous, more so than he had ever been before. His steps thumped with power when it made contact with the wooden floor of the house, his eyes spoke of promised murder as he surveyed the room silently, nothing seemingly escaped his sight. He stayed at the door, arms folded and silent as death, content with just watching.
Then came my brother, his steps silent, his breathing almost non-existent, he came up to me, his mask was down, hanging on his neck, it's been a while since I saw his face, serious as ever, barely wearing a smile, he stared at me, nodded once then moved to the corner of the room, there, he became one with the wall and furniture, barely discernible to the side eye unless stared at directly, easily forgotten, a perfect assassin he was. Still, one thing was clear, he had become more handsome than I recalled him to be, more matured too, he looked...older?.
My perception picks up movement at the door, my eyes are fully adjusted to my environment, I can see the dust in the air, i can hear more clearly the almost silent mutterings of mother while she sniffs with her head buried in my shoulders, "three years, three years", that's all she says over and over again. Was I dead for three years I wonder? I'll know in time certainly, but first, who was it that lingered at the door?.
As if able to read my mind, I receive my reply, from my brother, "the little one, you haven't seen her in years", he says.
As if on cue, she steps into the room, a bright smile on her lips, eyes like stars, the dreary presence that rested heavily on the room was lifted instantly, mother picks herself off my shoulder but wraps her arms around me still.
"Brother, you finally woke up, I knew you would, and I told them so, they wouldn't believe me though, hehe". With a cheeky grin and a I know it all look, the little one walks over to where I sit on the bed with a skip in her steps. Seconds later she has her arms are around my neck as she nestles into me, making herself comfortable on my lap, she stares at me with curious eyes and a smile so bright it was blinding.
"Heh, how big you've grown, last I saw you, you was so little and vulnerable, you still are though", I say, my voice raspy from lack of use for apparently three years.
"Get him water to drink, prepare a bath for him as well and a king's meal. When he is freshened up and fed, you'll tell the Patriarch that my son lives. Go".
Father issues commands, to whom? I know not, yet orderly footsteps make it clear to me that his orders are being carried out, once again I wonder, where the hell I'm I?.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone