Chương 41: Confession

Tears ran down Anadis's cheeks as he vomited the last of Grandma's food into the latrine. He grimaced as he looked down the hole, suddenly missing the modernity of Earth's toilets. Well, at least his house had running water and some weak attempt at soap. Small mercies. Funny how he'd never once questioned latrines and coarse soap, but now that he remembered how convenient the daily back on Earth had been, he found himself wishing for those conveniences once more.

"Damn Sevran. Damn it… why would they let him?" he muttered, clenching the wooden latrine seat as he heaved again.

"Forcing me to eat that while I was asleep. Without my consent."

"Remember that without him, you would have needed to reach Emanant before regrowing that limb," Hel said, pinching the bridge of her nose. Her expression twisted with distaste as she stared at his sorry state.

"That boy spared us a great deal of trouble."

"You say that, but," Anadis began, finding her comment the perfect segue to ask what had been on his mind for a while.

"I have a divine Black core." Hel shrugged indifferently.

"Yes?"

"Yes?" He almost laughed.

"Black-core Blessens don't ascend. Grey cores can scrape Emanant if they're lucky. I need a Red at least—those are the ones who climb to Luminous, maybe past it. And you're floating there telling me you'll make me the most powerful Blessen in history?" He shook his head.

"With a black core. That isn't a plan. That's a joke."

"Do you think I joke?" Hel retorted, examining her nails.

"Well, you don't really strike me as the type."

"Of course not," Hel replied.

"A divine core determines where you begin, not where you end. It says nothing about what you are capable of reaching."

"But how? Everything I've read contradicts you; it's simply not possible," Anadis insisted.

"I was beginning to think you were a little more…" She lingered, her gaze weighing down on him.

"Visionary." The word, weirdly enough, surprised Anadis, sitting wrong with him in a way he didn't want to examine.

"Visionary?" he repeated.

"That has nothing to do with… never mind. The point is, no black core ever ascends. It's just not possible. The fact that I have your Blessing doesn't mean I have your core as well, and I bet yours was white, if gods even have cores." She sighed and drifted into his chest.

"Go on with your day. We'll talk about this and what you saw in Eljudnir later tonight."

"But," he muttered, then looked down at the vomit mess and decided to let it go. Hauling up a bucket full of water, he cleaned up the mess, then washed his good hand, his deformed left hand, and his mouth with soap, scrubbing them raw. What has my life come to? Later that evening, Anadis sat with his family at the veranda table. The clatter of utensils, the sound of chewing, and the lively chatter of people filled the space.

Yet all Anadis saw was the glistening, crispy pork ribs on his silver platter, the rich aroma wafting straight to his nostrils. He was starving after not having eaten anything in three days. There was pork belly as well, but he preferred the ribs a lot more. He ran his tongue across his lips and caught Sevran watching him from across the table. Anadis met the stare, then looked down at the pork. His mood soured on the spot. Appetite gone.

He remembered he had eaten the boy's— Don't even think about it, Anadis, he told himself, and nearly cursed anyway. Wishing he had a reset button in his memory, Anadis snatched a knot of garlic bread, tore into it, then grabbed three more in quick succession. Pushing the image of Sevran's whatever out of his mind, he speared a rib and, not thinking twice, let its hot, juicy fat melt across his tongue. Yep. No way that's going to stop me from enjoying this. He glared at Sevran.

The boy's cheeks were stuffed full, his lips glistening with grease at the edges, as he was about to shove another cube of pork into his mouth. The moment he saw Anadis's cutting stare, he dropped his fork with a clatter and gasped.

"W-why are you glaring at me?" Sevran asked, voice muffled by the meat.

"Actually, never mind. I think I know why." You'd better. Then, in a whisper, Sevran added, "I'm Sorry." Come on… Now I can't even stay angry at him.

"I have something I must address, family," Father suddenly announced from the head of the table. He cleared his throat and set down his wine cup.

"There's a question some of you must want answered, and I feel obligated to explain." He folded his hands and looked at each family member in turn. The lively chatter vanished as the obvious subject hung heavy in the air. No one at the table wanted to be the first to bring it up.

"As we all know, two of our family members—" He glanced at Sevran and corrected himself.

"Actually, three. For what you did for my daughter, you deserve praise, boy. And as far as I'm concerned, you're family here." A slight curl at the corners of Sevran's lips betrayed how he felt. Father took a deep breath.

"Anadis and Aelia were in grave danger three days ago when an Unhallowed Grull attacked them." His jaw tightened, as if the next words cost him something.

"Regardless, we know how that ended, and they're safe. Now, the question some of you may be wondering is this: how could me, a simple Blessen, have been able to deal with an Unhallowed by myself?" Nora, Aelia, and even Sevran turned to him, and then they exchanged glances. The way their expressions turned, it was as though they were asking themselves the same silent question: Was Father trying to boast?

"Sorry to interrupt," Aelia said.

"I did wonder that. But isn't it just that you're far more experienced and stronger than us, and therefore you were able to kill the Grull with such ease?"

"No," Anadis answered for Father.

"No matter how long a Blessen trains, it's unheard of—if not outright impossible—for one to defeat an Unhallowed Grull by himself, let alone as easily as Dad did." He made a point of looking at Father, knowing the man had already seemingly made up his mind about revealing his secret. The whole family turned toward Father, but Anadis noticed that Mother and Grandma weren't looking with curiosity. Their expressions carried quiet remorse instead.

"Your brother is right, Aelia—well, half right," Father remarked.

"In ninety-nine percent of cases, a Blessen could never defeat an Unhallowed. But one with years of experience and an essence-packed Divine core of certain colors…" He deliberately avoided meeting anyone's eyes.

"…could probably, if only barely, manage it." His fingers drummed on the table, stopped, then drummed again.

"I've beat around the bush enough already. What I'm trying to say is that I've been lying to you, my children, for years."

"What?" Nora's breath caught. Her voice was a fraction of its usual volume.

"Lying about what?" She looked to Mother, then Grandma, but their gazes stayed fixed on the table. Father didn't look up as he spoke.

"I'm not a Blessen." A heavy pause.

"Not just a Blessen, at any rate." He slowly raised his head, his eyes meeting everyone's, one by one.

"I'm a Luminous." So the truth is out, Anadis thought sourly. Even now, through Soul Sight, he stared at his father's scarlet core—its three tails writhing with energetic vigor.

"Son," Father said, gesturing toward Anadis.

"You told me three weeks ago that you saw with your Blessing how my core was different from yours. This is the reason why. I'm sorry for lying back then and denying it."

"But why?" Aelia said, her voice sharp with confusion.

"Why lie? I'm no genius when it comes to Blessings, but even I know Luminous are rarer than… than…" She broke off, frustration clearly getting the better of her.

"I don't know what they're rarer than, but even I understand there aren't more than a thousand alive at any given time. Right?" She looked at Anadis for confirmation. If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

"Y-yes, something like that," he confirmed. Then, glancing at Father, he tried to move Aelia's point along.

"She's right, Dad. Why lie? I don't see the reason."

"It's because of the Ashen Vain War," Grandma answered in Father's stead.

"Just like you said, a Luminous is an extremely rare resource. Your father was one of the most exceptional Blessens of his time—he managed to become a Luminous by the age of twenty-two."

"Twenty-two?!" Anadis shot up from his chair.

"That's…" He was at a loss for words. He had always known his father was incredible, but to this extent? It was a feat even most Sanctified Blessens couldn't boast of. And the time it usually took for a Blessen to ascend was directly tied to the number of Grulls they had slain. Just how many Grulls did he kill?

"It was my idea," Mother said from beside Father.

"When I was pregnant with your big brother Noe, we—""Marcia…" Father called, half-rising from his chair as though to stop her. Mother shook her head, waving her hand in refusal.

"The war was at its climax, and your father was never around because of it. He was also the target of a lot of dangerous people, both from the Daemon side and even the human side." She leaned forward slightly, her eyes fierce with old conviction.

"We didn't—I didn't—want to live a life in the middle of all that. I didn't want to raise any of you under the eyes of people who lived just for war, even if it meant sacrificing a Gold Class title, perhaps even a Diamond one, at the rate your father was growing. So I suggested we move to this island, away from all of that." Nora slammed her palm on the wooden table and shot to her feet.

"So I'm just supposed to accept that my father has lied to us all our lives, that dangerous people are looking for him? And that the three of you—" she looked between her parents and Grandma, "—weren't even born on Aura Cay? Is my name even Nora Kalonis?" They didn't answer her.

"What about Noe?" Nora continued, her voice laced with anger.

"When are you going to tell him about this?"

"Your brother already knows," Father said, fingers steepled.

"We told him about three years ago."

"What?! Why just him and not us—not me? Am I still a kid to you? I'm already seventeen!"

"We had to," Mother said. Her grey eyes glistened under the violet moonlight.

"For your father to get the job with Lord Venrie, we had to tell them both." Oh no. That was not the right thing to say, Mom.

"So you even told an outsider?!" Nora snapped, clutching at her curls. For a second, Anadis thought she might tear some of her own hair out, but instead she began to stomp off the veranda and into the house, yelling, "I don't want to talk to any of you ever again! I hate you!"

"Nora!" Mother reached out, but Nora slapped her hand away.

"Stop." Father's voice was steel—no give, no argument. Nora froze mid-step and looked at him, eyes welling up.

"Do not blame your mother, nor your grandmother. Blame me," he said with heavy gravitas.

"She might have said it was her decision, but in the end I had the final say in the matter. I was the one who decided not to tell any of you, and I'm ashamed to admit I might have continued with this lie if my hand hadn't been forced by the accident."

"Accident?!" Nora sniffled.

"Two of your kids almost died—how can you just call that an accident?" She spun and ran inside. Silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by the slap of her sandals against the floor. Sevran pressed a fist to his mouth, trying and failing to stifle a burp that grumbled out anyway.

"Sorry," he said softly afterward.

"I'll go after her," Aelia said, already halfway inside the house. Mother stood up without a word and left. Grandma reached out a hand but lowered it midway, then glanced at Father. He gave a small nod, and Grandma followed after Mother. The table was now empty. Only Father, Sevran, Albus, and Anadis remained.

"I owe you an apology," Father said in a low voice.

"I should have been honest from the start."

"I don't care," Albus said, prodding a cube of pork with his fork.

"Doesn't change anything. It only means you're stronger than I knew, which is good."

"You don't care that I lied?" Albus shook his head.

"It was a lie to protect us. In a time of war, that makes it a sound strategy." Anadis couldn't stop his eyebrows from climbing his forehead.

"That's very mature and understanding of you, Albus." Albus shrugged as he ate.

"What about you, Anadis?" Father asked.

"Me?" Anadis mused. Honestly, he didn't know what to think. Should he be angry? Sure, it sucked to be lied to by someone he idolized and still did. But just as Albus had pointed out, they had done it to escape the war and raise their family in peace on this island, far from the dangerous life that came with power and fame. He couldn't blame them for that.

"I didn't like being lied to." Father's jaw tightened as he nodded.

"But I understand. Honestly, if you had told me from the start that my father was a Luminous, I would've shouted it to everyone, and the news would've reached the whole continent. So… I suppose it was a good thing you didn't." The man exhaled, almost a chuckle.

"I guess you're right in that regard."

"Also, sir," Sevran whispered across the table.

"You can count on me to keep this secret. It stays at this table." Father gave a nod.

"I apologize that you had to see this side of our family so early on." Sevran shook his head.

"There's nothing to apologize for. You've all shown me more kindness than I've known in years."

"I'll head to my room for now, Dad," Anadis said, picking up his dirty plate.

"Hold on a second. Take this." Father pulled something folded in cloth from beside him and handed it over. It was a rectangular crystal, greenish in color, with a hole in the center—like a donut, yet nothing like one at all.

"It's an Unhallowed Grullshard."

"What?" Anadis's eyes widened. He had never seen one before.

"Dad, this is worth so much money—why are you giving it to me?"

"I already gave one to Aelia, Albus, and even Sevran. This one is yours."

"Again… what?"

"Let's just say I spent some time in the forest, and this is the result. Here, just take it." Father paused.

"Also, the Abominant Grulls you slew—those Grullshards have already been purified by Nora. You'll need to convince her to purify this one too." With a nod, Anadis accepted the shard and headed to his room. There he lay in bed, shuffling the four Grullshards in his one good hand. One from the skewer-back beetle, two from the strangle-fangs wolves, and one last from an unknown Unhallowed. Albus was already asleep in the bed across the room.

Sevran was staying in Noe's room for the night, and Anadis had made damn sure the boy stayed there. He wasn't about to let that kid sneak into his sister's room. It was exactly in moments like these, when girls were upset and needed someone, that despicable guys wormed their way into their hearts.

"Alright, vessel," Hel announced herself in a blinding flash of light. Anadis squeezed his eyes shut, grunting as he wondered how lucky the others were not to see such radiance in the dead of night.

"I'm not your vessel."

"I decide if you're my vessel or not," she replied, her wings buzzing louder than a hornet.

"And right now, you are. Regardless, it's about time you tell me what you saw in Eljudnir with the Thorn Crown."

"Can't you just dive into my Divine core or my mind and see for yourself?" Anadis spoke through their bond, careful not to wake his twin.

"I'm too tired to explain it all."

"No. I already told you—I cannot see your thoughts or read your mind." She floated closer to his face.

"What I can see is that your soul is no longer in constant battle. It's as if the two sides have blended into one, which tells me the integration was a success." He turned his head and flipped his pillow to the cool side. Hel phased through his chest, leaving a frigid chill in her wake.

"If you're truly tired, then talk, vessel. I'll even refrain from interrupting you." Stifling a yawn, Anadis rolled onto his back and surrendered. He explained Leander's life—his past life—with as much detail as he could manage. He wasn't sure where to start or how much to share. Should he describe Earth? How society worked there and how different it was from Gaelora?

In the end, he focused mostly on the boring, mundane details: the life of an orphaned teenager whose only worries were surviving school, scarfing down junk food, devouring shitty stories in whatever format he could find, trying to make his crush fall for him, and one day finally finding his sister. He also mentioned the decades he had spent drifting through space to reach this world, along with the mysterious voices and the silhouette bathed in light that appeared before him.

That last part, judging by Hel's expression, was the only thing she truly cared about.

"That goddess," Hel mused, her tiny finger clutching her chin.

"Did she say her name, or anything else?" Anadis shook his head." I can barely remember the fragments of what she said. A name wasn't one of them. Why? Do you know her?"

"I may have… but my memories are still fuzzy."

"Of course they are."

"What intrigues me is why you were brought here." Hel floated closer.

"Also, your personality hasn't really changed at all. I thought seeing an entire other life would be enough to change a person completely."

"I just…" Anadis paused, searching for the right words.

"I'm trying my best not to let my past life influence this one. Yes, I was Leander, but that was another life—one I can never get back. Those people are gone: my first parents, the orphanage, my sister, the girl I loved. I can't regain them. I'm Anadis Kalonis now. This is my life. This is who I am. I have so much here that I never had in my first life. I don't want my family thinking I'm someone else… that I've changed. So I won't." Hel stayed quiet for longer than usual.

"You made a choice," she said finally. Anadis wasn't sure whether it was a judgment or simply an observation, the way one might note that the sky was cloudy. She drifted toward the shutters, her wings fluttering slowly as she turned her back to him.

"In your case, it would be expected for you to spend your existence mourning what was lost instead of living what remains. It is good that you chose to move forward." She paused, her expression composed.

"As for why you were brought here…" Her voice dropped an octave.

"I don't have a complete answer yet. But I will tell you this: the figure you saw was not one of the Thirteen. I would know her if she were." Her jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.

"Which means there is something other than the gods moving pieces I cannot yet see—and cannot recall."

"Sounds similar to the fairy tale," Anadis said suddenly.

"You know, the fire hero my grandma read to me." She looked at him directly.

"Yes. He is real, or, better said, was real."

"What?"

"Yes. But sleep for now. We have much to do, and you are no use to me exhausted." She paused at the edge of his vision.

"You did well today, Anadis." Hel didn't wait for his reaction. She simply faded back into his Divine Core before he could respond.