Chapter 12: Threads of Forgiveness
Aria's POV
Overhanging our newfound freedom like a black cloud was the creature's terrifying promise. The weight of the impending storm weighed heavily on the chamber's quiet.
I glanced at Evelyn, my mother. The fatigue of a protracted, unseen effort was engraved on her pale face. Despite the worry, there was a silent power in her eyes.
She broke the stillness with a hushed voice, "It will return." "We anticipated it would."
With stern eyes, Darius took a step forward. "We'll be prepared after that. We'll figure out a solution to prevent that.
With her eyes focused on the vanishing vortex, Evelyn said, "It won't be easy." It's quite old. strong.
The elders grimaced as they nodded. One of them said, "We have to refer to the ancient writings." "Seek the wisdom of our ancestors."
Their footsteps reverberated across the stone hallway as they turned and left the room.
We felt the weight of them leaving us, a tacit admission of the danger that lay ahead.
My heart hurting from a mixture of thankfulness and hatred, I went to my mother. "What kept you from telling me?"
With little more than a whisper, I asked. "What kept you from telling me?"
She let out a sigh, sadness shining in her eyes. Aria, I wanted to keep you safe. from the creature, from Roman, and from the suffering.
I exclaimed, raising my voice, "But you took away my choices." "You deprived me of my life."
"I understand," she answered in a shaky voice. And I really apologize. However, I believed it to be the only option.
With tears in my eyes, I said, "There was always another way." "I was someone you could have trusted. You had the option to be honest with me.
Her fingers shook as she stretched out and caressed my face. She said, "I was scared." "Afraid of the consequences if you found out." I'm scared of losing you.
As I looked at her, my rage gradually gave way to a profound, agonizing melancholy. "You came very close," I remarked, my voice cracking. "You almost lost me anyway."
She nodded, her eyes now streaming down her cheeks. "I understand. And I will never be able to forgive myself for it.
The weight of our unsaid words hung heavily between us as we stood in silence. The echoes of our suffering permeated the wet, chilly room.
Darius then moved nearer and placed a warm touch on my shoulder. His voice was quiet as he replied, "You both need time." "Time to recover."
He guided me to a little nook that was concealed by a rock structure. The calm, still air served as a haven from the mayhem.
The only thing we heard as we sat there was the gentle murmur of the whispering falls. Now, the agony, the rage, and the resentment were washed away by the unrestrained weeping.
My voice was raspy when I finally turned to face my mother. I responded, "Tell me everything." "Tell me about everything—the creature, the pact, everything."
She nodded, a silent power shining in her eyes. She spoke softly as she related a story of old magic and sinister predictions, saying, "It started long ago."
The thing she described to me was a being of utter chaos who was bonded to the Moon-Blessed's lineage.
In an effort to shield me from the Moon Goddess's influence, she informed me about the agreement she made with her.
She told me about the years she was in hiding, keeping watch over me from a distance, her heart hurting from being apart from me.
She confided in me about her dread, her remorse, and her steadfast love.
My rage gradually subsided as she spoke, to be replaced by a profound comprehension. I saw her suffering, fear, and selflessness.
With a shaking hand, I extended my arm and grasped hers. I answered, my voice no more than a whisper, "I understand." "I pardon you."
With floods of relief in her eyes, she grasped my hand. "I'm grateful, Aria," she muttered. "I'm grateful."
With our hands gripped together and the silent words of forgiveness dangling between us, we sat in quiet.
The room was no longer wet or chilly. It was cozy and brimming with the subdued power of forgiveness.
Then the stillness was broken by Darius's soothing voice. "We must get ready," he said. "For the return of the creature."
We looked at the disappearing vortex and nodded. The danger was still there, ready to strike while hiding in the shadows.
We prepared for the impending conflict in the chamber over the course of the next several days. The elders brought back old manuscripts that described the creature's origins, weaknesses, and abilities.
We discovered its link to the Moon-Blessed lineage, its ravenous appetite for mayhem, and its capacity for corruption and dominance.
We discovered its frailty, a weakness concealed in its own disorder. A vulnerability that might be used against it, a vulnerability that could be exploited.
We discovered a ceremony, a potent spell that might cut its ties to the bloodline and send it back to its dark world.
But the ceremony demanded a sacrifice, a sacrifice of enormous power. The Moon-Blessed bloodline's own strength.
"It will require all of us," Evelyn said solemnly. "All of our magic, all of our strength."
We exchanged glances, a silent resolve shining in our eyes. We were prepared. Together, we would confront the beast.
Then the room shook with a quick, strong vibration. The air crackled with electricity, and the walls shook.
Then a voice reverberated across the room, sinister and evil. "You can't run away from me."
The fading vortex flared, intensifying and becoming brighter. Out of the whirling gloom, a figure formed of fire and shadow, its shape changing and contorting.
The beast was back. And it was more powerful than before.