My ability to investigate was limited to the things around the room. Days passed uneventfully. Though my father, Konnyr, rarely came to visit, my mother was almost always by my side. I started to pick up on the language and, though I couldn’t force myself past my physical limitations, started hastening myself to allow mobility. Very soon, I was able to sit up and crawl. After that, I quickly began to walk. This process took place in the span of a few months though. By no means was the feat easy at all.
My parents were more than delighted to witness my milestones. However, amidst the silence and peace, there were several things weighing on my mind.
First, there was my unsettling clarity of mind and adult-like perception of my surroundings. Though I was unable to do anything about my responses, being limited by my body, it didn’t stop me from having thoughts far beyond what a child my age was supposed to have. What made it further frustrating was that my body was a monster untamed. It was as though I was in a ride that I didn’t have much control over, needing the assistance of others in doing the simplest of things.
Second, my amber-eyed guide was nowhere to be found. Though the events in the afterlife after falling from the cliff was unknown to me, I knew we fell in together. He must be somewhere in here with me at least. Somewhere
Third, my mother, Elleria, often fell under spells of sadness and worry especially when she would look at me. Though I did not understand, I knew that whatever it was was heavy enough if it weighed on the woman this much.
Konnyr’s constant absence was indeed worrisome. If anything, that must be one of the reasons why.
As I wondered what could be keeping the man from being with his family, he came home one day donning a battle armor. Elleria, for the first time, brought me out of the nursery. She descended halfway the stairs with me in her arms and peered down the banisters overlooking the main door.
Behind Konnyr were warriors—two men and a woman. All carried a form of weapon on their person and were dressed in a sort of woven, pale gold fabric. They had all had deeply tanned skin, but one of the two men along with the woman had peculiar, dark tourmaline hair and matching eyes. I would throw in a wild guess and say they were related. The last one who stood beside Konnyr, had that red hair as well, though it was more burgundy compared to my father’s honeyed red.
They carried a bloodied banner of a nine-legged spider. Their faces were sullen with defeat. Upon seeing me and my mother at the stairs, the sourness of their mood worsened further. Following their line of gaze, I glanced at my mother and found the woman’s fair face graced with a soft smile. A closer look, nonetheless, and one would see discomfort.
Though the warriors behind Konnyr didn’t bother hiding their dislike, possibly of both me and my mother, they still lowered their heads to pay empty respects.
“Aváen, Illyérve Kánna, il Nemeria Erraléna Regalia Elleria,” they chorused. “Aváen, Olyaer Erraléna Evyionne.”
The sharp and dignified greetings threw my stomach into a twist. Though I understood nothing of the words they said other than the names of my mother and myself, the body language gave me enough idea.
They addressed Konnyr with a salute, after which they promptly left. I regarded their retreating backs with the widest eyes, shoving half of my plump fist into my mouth to chew anxiously on. Weird as chewing on my fist was, it was oddly comforting.
My father might just command a significant position, which would explain his absences.
“Kon ana, kon anala,” Konnyr’s voice boomed across the room.
I snapped out of my thoughts to gaze at my father.
Ana and anala were words for wife and daughter, respectively. I had picked up on it during my few months of stay. They were among the most common.
Konnyr climbed the stairs, unclasping his armor and throwing it to the side to reveal the same pale gold fabric that the other warriors were dressed in. He then greeted both my mother and me, planting kisses on our foreheads with eagerness.
“Konnyr,” Elleria whispered. “Pavaden ko. Idun ko malam it nere kina.”
“Daven na,” he said reassuringly. “Adire la ko.”
I sighed inwardly. It had barely been a few months since I regained consciousness as an infant. And though I was given such a loving family, it was clear that it wasn’t as perfect as it first seemed.
Then again, it was much better than having none.
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