The sensation of warmth was the first thing I registered as consciousness pulled me back from the depths. For a moment, everything felt distant, like I was floating through the stars themselves—weightless and untethered. But as reality settled in, I became acutely aware of the soft sheets beneath me and the familiar, faint hum of medical equipment.
I slowly blinked my eyes open, my body still sluggish with exhaustion. I wasn't dead. That much I knew for sure. Somehow, despite the overwhelming odds, I had survived. The memories of the battle—those twisted Abyss creatures—flashed in my mind, vivid and chaotic, but it all felt distant now, like a half-remembered nightmare. I'd made it back, though not entirely by my own doing.
The room was dimly lit, casting soft shadows against the walls. Before I could take in my surroundings, I felt a gentle weight on my hand. I shifted my gaze and found my mother sitting at my bedside, her usually composed face marred with worry. Her slender fingers were wrapped around my hand, her grip tight, as if afraid that I might slip away again.
When she noticed my eyes fluttering open, her expression softened, and she smiled—a smile filled with warmth and relief. That regal elegance she always carried with her never wavered, even though I could see the exhaustion hiding just behind her eyes.
"You're awake," she said, her voice soft, but the depth of her emotion resonated in every word.
"Mother…" My voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper. My throat burned as I tried to speak, but I managed a small smile. "I'm… okay."
Her eyes brightened, and she let out a soft chuckle. "You have a strange definition of 'okay,' Avant. You were barely breathing when your brothers brought you in."
I tried to sit up, but my body protested with a sharp ache, and my mother gently pushed me back down. "Stay still," she urged, her voice firm but kind. "You've been through more than you realize."
Just as I was about to protest, the door slid open with a soft hiss. My father strode into the room, his presence commanding as always, though I could see the lines of tension in his usually stoic expression. His dark uniform, marked with the insignia of our house, seemed to weigh more heavily on him today.
"Thank the stars you're awake," he said, his voice rumbling through the room with a rare hint of emotion.
Behind him, my brothers followed. Alden, my second brother, greeted me with his usual boyish grin, though I could see the lingering worry in his green eyes. He shared our father's features so clearly—blonde hair and those sharp, discerning eyes that could cut through any lie. Aiden, on the other hand, carried the weight of our mother's heritage in his ash-blonde hair, like mine, though his expression was far darker.
"Good to see you alive, little brother," Alden said as he stepped closer to the bed, his grin widening. "You had us worried there for a moment."
I chuckled, though it came out more like a rasp. "Just… a moment?"
Aiden said nothing at first, though the tension in his shoulders spoke volumes. He stood near the door, his arms crossed over his chest, his jaw clenched tight. I could tell he was wrestling with something, some deep-seated guilt gnawing away at him.
The medics had been diligent, it seemed. I felt the weight of their work in the bandages wrapped around my torso and the coolness of the healing salves seeping into my skin. My body was sore, every muscle protesting even the slightest movement, but I was alive. And that was more than I could have hoped for just hours ago.
Aiden finally spoke, his voice tight. "I should have… I shouldn't have let you follow me, Avant." His eyes met mine, and there was something raw and broken in them. "If I had just kept you back—"
I raised a hand, cutting him off before he could spiral further into that pit of regret. "It wasn't your fault, Aiden. I chose to come. We all knew the risks."
"Yeah, Aiden," Alden chimed in, ever the one to break the tension with a half-smile. "If Avant hadn't been with you, who knows if either of us would've made it out of there. You protected him in the end."
I could see the conflict in Aiden's eyes, but he said nothing further. He simply nodded, though the shadow of regret still lingered.
Before any more could be said, the door slid open again, and a medic officer entered the room. He was tall and stern-looking, his hands methodical as he began to inspect the charts hanging by my bed. He gave me a once-over, scanning me with a diagnostic tool, before turning to my father with a curt nod.
"All vitals are stable," the medic officer reported. "He should make a full recovery with rest. There's no sign of lasting damage."
My father's shoulders visibly relaxed at the news, and I saw the same relief reflected in Aiden's eyes. It was like a weight had been lifted off their backs, one that neither of them had realized they were carrying.
"Well," Alden said with a mock sigh of relief, "seems like I don't have to drag your sorry ass out of any more near-death experiences. You're in good hands now."
My father's gaze turned to Alden, his expression stern. "Alden, you shouldn't even be here right now. You were pulled from your mission for this."
Alden raised an eyebrow, his usual cocky demeanor unfazed. "If I hadn't been there, father, Aiden and Avant would be dead. So forgive me if I prioritize saving both my brothers life over a mission."
The room fell silent at that, the weight of Alden's words hanging heavily in the air. Aiden's expression darkened at the reminder, his regret deepening.
"Still," my father said, his voice more tempered now, "you have responsibilities elsewhere. Avant has Aiden and me here to protect him. You need to return to your mission."
Alden's eyes flashed with defiance, but he knew better than to argue with our father when he used that tone. "Fine," he muttered, though his gaze flicked to me, concern still lingering. "But if anything happens—"
"Nothing will," I said, forcing a smile despite the fatigue weighing on me. "I'll be fine. Go do what you need to do."
Alden hesitated for a moment longer before giving a short nod and turning to leave, though not without one last glance back at me. He gave me a crooked grin. "Stay out of trouble, little brother. I'd rather not have to rescue you again."
As Alden left, the room settled into a quiet calm, the tension easing slightly. But that calm was short-lived.
My mother, who had been mostly silent through the exchange, suddenly squeezed my hand a little tighter, drawing my attention back to her. Her expression had shifted, a seriousness settling in her eyes that hadn't been there before. She glanced up at my father, and something unspoken passed between them. Something that made my father's expression harden.
"Sophiela…" my father began, his voice a low warning.
But my mother didn't back down. Instead, she turned her gaze back to me, her lips pressing into a thin line as if she was preparing herself for something difficult. For something she had been keeping from me for far too long.
"We need to tell them, Aventus," she said quietly, though her words cut through the air like a blade. "They deserve to know the truth too."
I frowned, confusion swirling in my mind as I looked between them. Aiden had grown still as well, this attention fully on our mother now, equally puzzled by her sudden shift in tone.
"What truth?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, though the weight of my question hung heavily between us.
My father's jaw clenched, his gaze darkening. For the first time in my life, I saw uncertainty in his eyes. He had always been a man of control, a pillar of strength and authority. But now… now he looked shaken.
My mother exhaled slowly, her grip on my hand never loosening as she spoke. "Avant, there's something about you… something about your awakened powers… that we've kept hidden for your protection. But now, after what's happened, we can't keep it from you any longer."
Her words sent a chill down my spine, and a dozen questions swirled in my mind. What were they hiding? What could be so important—so dangerous—that they had kept it from me my entire life?
My father took a step closer, his expression unreadable. "It's time you knew the truth, Avant."
And with that, the floor beneath my world began to shift.