Chapter 80

When Toren gazed upon his mother at the bed of lilies, he immediately ran towards her and hugged her tightly.

"My dear son," She chuckled. "How was the trip through time? Did you enjoy my gift for you?"

"It was a whole different experience," Toren said. "I am glad to be able to have it. And Coen seemed to be doing fine. However, something felt strange about him."

"What about him?" Airen slowly stood up and lifted her cupped palms to receive the star fluid.

Toren, on the other hand, caressed his chins, recalling about his brother. "I have always known my brother's loyal behavior," He began. "But I wonder why he would choose to serve different masters over and over, age by age. He became a military soldier, an employee, and even a public servant. There are a few more occupations he had done too, but I thought it was strange to keep being loyal despite the variety of ages."

"Maybe that is just how your brother is," Airen answered after sipping on the celestial fluid. "Anyway, I must also return to where I belong."

Toren glanced at her with a confused expression, slowly scrutinizing her purpose and beyond her eyes. "Where do you truly belong, mother?" Toren asked.

She just laughed at the question and brushed her lovely, slick, black hair.

"You are the talented one, but your brother was the intelligent one, really."

Toren felt more confused at her words.

She suddenly seemed like an undecipherable puzzle meant to form a shining jewel. And yet, he could not form or paint the picture of her reality.

She suddenly turned into a beautiful mess, he deemed. Airen pressed her feline fingers on the boy's forehead once more and again, he was back at the dark void.

The process went the same way all over and this time, he was transported to the year after Coen's freedom from imprisonment at the dungeon.

Instead of going back to the En family's household, he went to Captain's Brochille's funeral.

His troops saluted onto his corpse, his wife weeping at the corner, and some of his comrades were lamenting at his death.

Toren remembered this year – the one engraved at the captain's tomb when he leapt through time far beyond this year.

He knew exactly where to go and with the use of some dusty abstracts in his brain, he had mapped the timeline of the convoluted events that happened to the people he loved. It was a bit complicated, but it was somehow a satisfying thread of emotions.

One which he appreciated because his life felt like it had actual meaning far beyond the war, far past the regrets, and far more than what he perceived it was.

Days after, the opium distributions and supplies were exploited by the magistrate among the soldiers and other institutions.

But because of the war and ongoing colonialism, they could not afford to weaken their military, so they settled it more quickly than how their laws have written it should be.

Toren even attended a prayer meeting led by a great bishop during a religious celebration despite having no physical form to participate.

He sincerely prayed in spite of knowing that his pleas would be automatically rejected from the heavens.

He knew about the bounded consequences, the mandate of heaven, and the wrongful things he had done.

Toren regretted nothing about it, though.

He had also visited the newly built orphanage that was established by the colonists to house the orphans together with the nuns and priests.

The children were taught, day by day, of religion and morality amidst the war and cruelty around them. And while Toren explores more and more of the slowly weakening conflict, he hears music.

Its mellifluous melody was eerily familiar to his ears.

He described it.

Beguiling, ethereal, and fascinating as sung by the beautiful voice of a siren.

And that was when it struck him that such a similar description had always been written in a certain infamous book. The one that told the tale of the young prince and the poisonous flower.

It was coming from behind him.

His nerves and breaths were ripped to a halt as he slowly turned his head around. And there, at the dry asphalt ground where neither trees nor plants could grow, he saw the deep blue flower blooming out prettily.