The calm

Gazing out the rain-streaked window, Sylvain's forehead creased with deep consternation.

The rain persisted, a somber reminder of Adriana's uncertain fate. Had she safely returned home?

And if so, what sinister forces conspired to detain her?

His eyes then shifted to Diana, whose once erratic breaths had steadied, offering a silver of solace. But the relief he felt was far from adequate.

Her sickly pallor had transformed, akin to the resurgence of life itself. Her once dulled purple lips now bloomed with the hue of a vibrant rose, and her golden tresses reclaimed their luster, cascading like molten sunlight.

To an unsuspecting observer, it would be easy to mistake her for a mere slumberer, oblivious to the turmoil that plagued her existence.

Little did they know, the retrieval of her consciousness remained an enigma, a precarious tightrope between salvation and perpetual darkness.

Sylvain exhaled, a heavy sigh escaping his lips as he departed the chamber, retracing his steps to the antiquated shop's foyer.

He had given his all, exhausting every ounce of his being. Now, the weight of their destiny fell upon the fragile shoulders of the child.

Would she muster the strength to navigate the treacherous labyrinth and emerge unscathed? Or would she succumb to the seductive allure of eternal shadows?

The intrusive chime of the shop's doorbell disrupted his contemplations, and an irked furrow marred his brows.

He contemplated dismissing this unwelcome intrusion, but the mere possibility of it being Adriana compelled him to look up, a flicker of hope igniting within.

His intuition proved prescient as Adriana entered, gracefully depositing a black umbrella in the stand. Relief washed over Sylvain's weary frame, reassured by her unharmed appearance. Yet, the sight of her donning a different attire than earlier tightened his jaw in mild vexation.

"What delayed your return?" He inquired, his tone tinged with a blend of concern and impatience.

"Work," Adriana replied curtly, her voice tinged with weariness.

"Work?" Sylvain's skepticism laced his words.

Adriana sighed, her voice laden with exhaustion, as though she carried the weight of the world upon her shoulders. "Yes, Sylvain."

Passing him in a fluid motion, she strode purposefully toward the room Diana had been confined. Confusion etched its mark upon her features as she discovered the void that once held her child.

Perplexed, she pivoted to face Sylvain, her eyes demanding answers. Yet, before she could voice her concerns or unleash her torrent of questions, he interjected, his voice solemn and resolute, "Follow me."

The room he led her to lay in proximity, a mere whisper away from Diana's former sickroom. It existed within a realm of its own.

"I deemed it necessary to relocate her from that chamber. A breath of fresh air may offer respite." Sylvain explain, exerting his will upon the creaking door.

Adriana nodded, comprehension dawning upon her as she stepped across the threshold.

Within those four walls, an ethereal ambiance enveloped her, suffused with a creamy white palette that whispered of serenity. The walnut wood flooring, a steadfast companion, contrasted and harmonized with its surroundings. And there, upon a modest bedside table, rested a stack of five books, their presence imbuing the room with a sense of profound wisdom.

Nothing had changed at all, Adriana thought, her heart heavy with a mix of gratitude and unease.

As if he had heard the unspoken turmoil within her, Sylvain spoke with a compassionate understanding, "I knew how much this room meant to you. Leaving it untouched felt like the best choice."

Adriana's smile bloomed, a genuine expression of appreciation, "Thank you, Sylvain. Your consideration means the world to me."

Sylvain nodded silently, leading her to the bed where Diana lay.

Unlike her ghostly visage before, Diana now possessed a renewed vitality. The once icy touch of her hands had been replaced by a comforting warmth. Tears welled in Adriana's eyes, a torrent of relief washing over her heart.

She gazed at Sylvain, overwhelmed with gratitude. Words of thanks felt insufficient, incapable of encapsulating the depth of her emotions.

In another time, she might have had more to offer than mere gratitude. But the past remained a distant memory, and with that realization, a melancholic smile graced her lips.

"Sylvain, I…" Adriana began, but her words were cut short by his gentle interruption.

"No need for formalities or excessive gratitude. I don't want you to feel indebted to me." he said softly, his expression serious. "However, I do have something important to discuss with you."

Adriana's body tensed, her face turning grave. Rising from her seat, she stood tall and resolute. "Please, go on."

"As you know, we cannot predict the duration of her slumber. However, I've noticed something peculiar about her." Sylvain said, his hand thoughtfully stroking his beard.

Adriana furrowed her brow, concern etched across her features. She couldn't ignore the gravity of Sylvain's troubled countenance.

"While channeling some of my energy to her, I discovered an unusually high absorption rate." Sylvain explained, taking a seat beside Diana's bed.

Adriana's frown deepened. The weight of his words settled heavily upon her. "Sylvain, every child is unique. We cannot compare Diana to her peers and jump to conclusions based on observations alone. Your concerns might be misplaced."

Sylvain ran a hand over his face, frustration mingling with understanding. He grasped her perspective, but the weight of his own observations persisted. "Adriana, there was something I felt when transferring my energy to her… something different." he trailed off.

Curiosity flickered in Adriana's eyes. "What did you feel?" She inquired, her voice tinged with a mix of apprehension and hope.

"I can't quite pinpoint it, but her energy felt overwhelmingly potent for a child just beginning to regain her mana." Sylvain squinted his eyes, his gaze fixated on the unconscious Diana.

Adriana's gaze followed his, studying her daughter's serene form. "How is that possible? Her mana was nearly nonexistent until now. Regardless of her powerful bloodline, this defies reason."

"I share your confusion. It's unnatural for her mana to be so potent at this stage of process." Sylvain mused, tilting his head slightly. "Yet, it both unsettles and impresses me that she has not withered away under such unusual circumstances."

Adriana's eyes remained fixed on Diana, her voice trembling as she whispered brokenly. "All I want is for my child to be safe."

Sylvain's gaze softened, a wellspring of compassion radiating from him. "She will be, Adriana. I promise you."

He vowed silently to himself that her safety would be his unwavering commitment, even without her vocalizing it.

"Although she may be in a delicate state now, it does not mean she will remain so," Sylvain continued, his gaze turning toward the window. The rain had ceased, leaving behind a deceptive calmness.

Adriana couldn't shake off the eerie tranquility that enveloped the scene. "Let us hope that she awakens sooner rather than later," She said, her voice laced with a sense of foreboding.

Like the deceptive calm before an impending storm.

"Sylvain?" Adriana's voice cut through the air, her arms tightly crossed over her chest. Her unwavering gaze fixed on Diana, she inquired, "Have you ever wondered about the true fate of the children when they lose consciousness?"

Sylvain, engrossed in his newspaper, turned to face Adriana, his curiosity piqued. "Why do you ask?" he inquired.

She shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "Just a matter of curiosity."

Sylvain chuckled softly at her response, but his laughter quickly faded. His expression turned grave as he replied, "Curiosity has been known to dire consequences, as they say. The truth is, nobody truly knows."

Adriana's brows furrowed in frustration. "No one?" She pressed, determined to uncover the hidden truth.

Sylvain nodded solemnly. "Indeed. The children who fall unconscious, they lose recollection of their experiences during that state." He paused, his gaze lingering on Diana, lost in contemplation.

"However," He continued, "there was one child who defied this pattern. It is said that he retained his memories upon awakening, but the ordeal had twisted his perception of reality, blurring the line between fact and fiction. His mind became a labyrinth of delusions." Sylvain's voice trailed off as he absentmindedly turned a page of the newspaper.

Adriana's frown deepened. "How so?" She prodded, seeking to understand the extent of the child's suffering.

Sylvain shrugged, his eyes distant. "From what I gathered, the boy was traumatized. He developed an aversion to darkness and solitude, whispering about the impending arrival of a nameless threat. His descent into madness became so severe that people began to question his sanity. But after a month or two, he simply forgot it all."

"That's… peculiar. Who were 'they' that he mentioned?" Adriana mumbled, her mind grappling with the enigmatic puzzle.

Sensing her confusion, Sylvain set aside his newspaper and leaned forward. "Adria, do you recall what I mentioned earlier? The potency of one's lineage or bloodline determines the intensity of their experience. Each individual's journey is unique." He paused, his gaze piercing into Adriana's.

"There are countless reasons why many children perish during this process, Adria. Some succumb to the overwhelming terrors they confront, others with frail bodies cannot withstand the surge of potent mana coursing through them, while some are consumed by their own overwhelming power, reduced to naught but dust."

The strength of one's lineage or bloodline only serves to amplify their anguish.

Adriana's heart raced as the weight of Sylvain's words settled heavily upon her. The terror in her eyes became evident, reflecting the fear that gripped her entire being. She couldn't bear to imagine the potential fate that awaited her unconscious daughter, Diana.

Every fiber of her being longed for reassurance, for someone to alleviate her mounting nervousness.

"You aren't exactly helping to calm my nervousness, Sylvain." Adriana's voice trembled as she voiced her frustration, hoping for a glimmer of solace from her companion. Yet, Sylvain's indifferent shrug only deepened her anguish, leaving her with a sense of helplessness.

Her mind became consumed with a sense of impending doom, the weight of her fear for her beloved daughter becoming too overwhelming for words to express. It was a primal instinct, a mother's instinct, that fueled her turmoil.

The thought of harm befalling Diana was unbearable, and Adriana could do nothing but surrender to the waves of anxiety that crashed through her.

In desperate attempt to find solace, Adriana closed her eyes tightly, seeking refuge in a silent prayer. Her lips moved soundlessly, her pleas for her daughter's safe return reverberated within her.

Though she had never witnessed her prayers being answered in the past, she clung to a glimmer of hope, a belief that God might show mercy upon her child in this dire time.

With a heavy heart and a flicker of faith, Adriana entrusted her daughter's fate to the hands of the divine, desperately yearning for a miracle to unfold.