8:44 AM
Golden Fields Region, Verdant Haven
Réel Residence
Aubert's eyelids fluttered open, the light from the morning sun gently coaxing him awake.
For a moment, he lay still, disoriented, as his senses gradually came to life. The familiar scent of lavender and old books filled his nostrils, a comforting reminder of home. With great effort, he propped himself up on his elbows, his gaze sweeping across the room.
There it was, his bedroom, with its cluttered bookshelves and the worn-out armchair by the window. A sigh of relief escaped his lips; he was safe, back in his sanctuary.
However, as he attempted to shift his position, a sharp pain shot through his body, halting his movements.
Aubert winced, his breath catching in his throat. Glancing down, he noticed the swathes of bandages enveloping his torso, arms, and legs.
Confusion and fear knotted in his stomach. What had happened to him? Why was he so heavily bandaged?
He closed his eyes, concentrating, trying to piece together the fragmented memories. Images flashed before his inner eye: a confrontation, a desperate struggle, and then... darkness. But one memory, clear and poignant, surfaced amidst the chaos.
"Gingy..."
The name slipped from his lips, barely a whisper, yet it carried the weight of his anguish. Tears welled up in his eyes, spilling over and trailing down his cheeks.
The realization hit him like a physical blow; he had failed. Failed to protect Gingy, and failed to save the three donut dogs. The weight of his perceived failures pressed down on him, a tangible force that threatened to suffocate.
Creak!
Just then, the door creaked open, and Maurice stepped into the room, a mug of steaming coffee in his hands.
The sight of his father brought a surge of emotions, and Aubert felt a lump form in his throat. Maurice's presence was both a comfort and a reminder of his vulnerability.
Maurice crossed the room with quiet steps, a look of deep concern etched on his face. He set the mug on the nightstand and took a seat on the edge of Aubert's bed, his eyes searching his son's face for signs of pain or distress.
"Papa..." Aubert's voice was barely audible, a mix of relief and sorrow. He sniffed, battling the tears that threatened to flow anew.
"Aubert, it's okay to cry," Maurice said softly, his voice imbued with a warmth that seemed to wrap around Aubert like a comforting blanket.
His hand reached out, resting gently on Aubert's shoulder, offering a physical manifestation of his support and love.
The floodgates opened at his father's words, and Aubert's attempts to hold back his tears were in vain. Sobs wracked his body as he mourned the loss and failure he felt so deeply. The grief for Gingy, the donut dogs, and the ordeal they had all endured overwhelmed him.
Maurice remained silent, his presence a steady and reassuring force as Aubert's tears flowed freely. There was no need for words; his being there, his understanding and acceptance of Aubert's pain, spoke volumes.
After a few moments, when Aubert's sobs had subsided into quiet sniffles.
"You showed great courage, Aubert. Sometimes, despite our best efforts, things don't turn out the way we hope. But it's not the outcome that defines us—it's the bravery we show and the compassion we hold in our hearts."
Maurice spoke again, his tone gentle but carrying an underlying strength.
Aubert looked up at his father, his eyes red and swollen from crying. The warmth in Maurice's eyes was a balm to his aching heart, and slowly, amidst the pain, a tiny spark of something else flickered to life—hope, perhaps, or the beginning of healing.
"Let's focus on your recovery now," Maurice continued, squeezing Aubert's shoulder reassuringly. "And remember, Gingy and those dogs knew you were fighting for them. That matters, more than you might think."
Aubert nodded a silent acknowledgment of his father's words, feeling the weight of his emotions settle somewhat within him.
He looked down at his hands, noticing the way they trembled slightly, a physical reminder of his vulnerabilities and the battles he had faced.
In that quiet moment, a resolve began to form deep within him, an unspoken vow to himself. He wanted to be stronger, and more capable. The events that had unfolded, the losses he had endured, had ignited a fierce determination within him.
Aubert no longer wanted to stand by, helpless, as those he cared about suffered or were lost due to his inability to protect them.
Slowly, Aubert clenched his fist, feeling the bandages wrap tightly around his skin, a tangible reminder of his recent ordeal and the strength he had already shown.
But it wasn't enough; he wanted, needed, to be stronger. Lifting his gaze to meet his father's, Aubert's eyes shone with a newfound determination.
"Papa, I want to become stronger!" he declared, his voice stronger than it had been moments before.
Maurice's heart swelled with pride at his son's resilience and growth. The journey Aubert had embarked upon, the challenges he had faced, and his resolve to overcome them were clear indicators of his maturing spirit and strength of character.
However, a flicker of curiosity crossed Maurice's mind, mingling with his pride. 'Does Aubert also want to become a showman like me?'
The thought was both exciting and daunting. Being a showman was more than a profession; it was a tradition in the Réel family, a legacy of bringing joy and wonder to others.
It was a path filled with challenges and rewards, demanding not just strength of body but of heart and spirit.
"Would you also consider becoming a showman, Aubert?" Maurice asked gently, his voice laced with hope and curiosity.
The question hung in the air, a bridge to a future possibly shared in the spotlight of their unique family legacy.
Aubert paused, letting the question sink in. Memories flooded back to him, of the first time he saw his father perform, the magic of the show, the laughter and applause, and the bright, happy faces of the audience.
Those moments had sparked something indelible within him, a joy in seeing others delighted and entertained.
As these memories danced through his mind, a warmth spread through him, echoing the happiness he had felt as a child witnessing the magic of his father's performances.
The realization dawned on him, clear and bright.
"Yes, Papa, I also want to become a showman!" Aubert exclaimed, his voice filled with excitement and a passion that mirrored the very essence of the showmanship legacy.
The decision, born from a mix of his recent experiences and cherished memories, felt right, aligning with his newfound resolve to grow stronger and his desire to bring joy to others, just as his father had done for so many years.
Maurice's eyes lit up with joy and pride, seeing the spark of a showman's spirit in Aubert's eyes.
Bzzt!
The gentle hum of conversation between Maurice and Aubert was abruptly interrupted by a sudden, sharp vibration.
Maurice's Commlink buzzed insistently from within his pocket, demanding attention.
"Ah, pardon me a moment," Maurice excused himself, his fingers deftly retrieving the Commlink.
The screen, aglow with an incoming call, displayed the name Ignatius, stirring a mix of curiosity and concern in Maurice's eyes.
With a slight furrow of his brow, Maurice accepted the call, his voice carrying a blend of warmth and formality.
"Bonjour, Monsieur Ignatius. To what do I owe the pleasure of your call at this hour?"
"Maurice, I'm afraid I have bad news."
The voice that greeted Maurice on the other end was tinged with urgency, cutting straight to the heart of the matter.
Maurice's posture tensed, a sense of foreboding settling over him. "Unfortunate news?"
A heavy silence followed before Ignatius's voice returned, now laden with gravity. "The event in Celestria, the one you've been preparing for... it's been canceled."
Disbelief and concern flashed across Maurice's features, his eyes widening in shock. "Canceled? But why? What's happened?"
"I wish I had more details for you, Maurice. But the truth is, they haven't provided me with any clear explanation."
Ignatius's response was tinged with regret and a hint of frustration.
As Maurice engaged in a conversation with Ignatius over the Commlink, Aubert found himself lost in thought, gazing down at the bandages that wrapped his body.
The pain that accompanied each movement was a stark reminder of his vulnerability—a sensation he deeply resented.
Determined, a thought took hold within him, burning with the clarity of a newfound resolve.
'I must recover, to grow stronger,' he silently vowed.
Gently, Aubert reached out, his fingers lightly brushing against the bandages encasing his arm. Amidst the discomfort, a single, unwavering desire crystalized in his mind: he yearned for healing.
Taking a deep breath, Aubert closed his eyes, tuning into the essence of his being. He could feel the mana, a vibrant and life-giving energy, coursing through his soul, a silent whisper of power waiting to be harnessed.
With his heart set on recovery, he envisioned the wounds beneath the bandages knitting together, the damaged flesh becoming whole once more. It was a vivid, potent visualization, fueled by his longing for strength and wellness.
As he concentrated, Aubert's hand began to emanate a brilliant, red aura. The glow was warm, a visible manifestation of his inner energy and determination.
As Maurice's conversation with Ignatius unfolded, a subtle, yet powerful, change in the atmosphere caught his attention, drawing him away from the phone call.
He turned, a mixture of curiosity and concern painting his features, only to witness a scene that momentarily took his breath away.
Aubert, despite his injuries and the evident pain they caused, was sitting upright in his bed, his focus intense.
The air around him seemed to shimmer with a gentle warmth, a soft glow emanating from his hands.
It was a quiet, yet powerful display of determination and resilience, the kind that speaks directly to the heart.
Maurice watched, transfixed, as Aubert's hands, wrapped in bandages, became enveloped in a soft, luminescent glow. The light was not just physical but symbolic, a manifestation of Aubert's inner strength and his will to overcome the obstacles before him.
For a moment, the concerns of the outside world—the cancellation of the event in Celestria, the uncertainties of the future—faded into insignificance.
What mattered was here and now, the incredible display of courage from his son, who, even in the face of adversity, chose to rise above his circumstances.