Northern sat there in silence for a few moments, while Anike, with a small smile, appreciated the clouds.
"What exactly do you mean... my father is trying to fix the problem the Origins created?"
Anike shook her head, that same small smile playing on her lips.
"It’s not my place to tell, child."
Northern exhaled.
’Of course it isn’t.’
"What then are you willing to tell me?"
"I can tell you about your maternal grandmother’s tribe. I can tell you about the Constellations and the reason why you came to Tra-el..."
At that moment, Northern’s gaze darkened.
"You know..."
Anike gave him that small smile—innocent, unassuming.
"Know... what?"
"That I—"
"Shusshh..."
She placed a finger over her lips and shut Northern up.
Then she looked towards the sky. At this point, orange hue was already slipping through from somewhere far, spilling into the clouds and coloring them with fire.
"The night is nigh... we should prepare for a long night."
Northern narrowed his eyes.
"Prepare? What’s there to prepare for?"
Anike stood up, her white and gold garb unfolding like petals. Northern was still looking at her with slight confusion.
’What am I missing here?’
As she rose, Judgment and three other girls approached and bowed.
Then she was assisted in standing—though Northern suspected the assistance was more ceremonial than necessary.
The light spear wiggled slightly and danced into her hands. She turned to Northern and said with a soft smile, "We shall have dinner at the hall where you met your mother earlier. Afterwards, let us prepare for the long night."
Anike bowed lightly to Northern and turned away.
Northern remained seated, wondering what he was missing. He turned it over in his mind, but couldn’t figure it out.
He just sat there, thinking about the little—yet somehow much—that she had said.
’At least she promised to tell me about my mother’s tribe... after tonight.’
Whatever that meant.
Northern stood up and followed through the entrance where they’d e from. He walked down to the large, wide hall. As he entered, he could hear someone calling his name.
"Lord Northern! Lord Northern!!"
Northern was slightly embarrassed, but he also knew the only person who could be calling him that was Sael.
’Why does he insist on that ridiculous title?’
Northern smiled calmly as the Arrow Sage navigated his way through the crowd of Seraphae and Arethamine, finally reaching Northern with a happy look on his face.
"Lord Northern, I knew you’d get here!"
"Your belief in me is... magnifying, Sir Sael."
Sael waved dismissively.
"There’s no need for politeness. Let’s drop it."
Northern gave him a serious look.
’Tell that to yourself...’
Sael didn’t need to be told what Northern was thinking to figure it out. He laughed, a bit sheepish.
"They’re two different things, really..."
Northern turned, walking forward through the crowd.
"Is that so... how did you manage to find this place?"
Sael followed.
"After following the path you told me to—with a bit of a struggle, ahem—I defeated them and eventually continued down the line. I saw light at the end of the tunnel, if I’m to put it in a nutshell."
Northern and Sael made their way through the crowd. The hall was being set up, a long table dominating the middle. People moved to and fro, carrying plates and all different kinds of delicacies to and from the table.
Northern finally reached his mother, Sael flanking him.
Eisha was busy arranging the plates in front, receiving them from the servers and dishing out the meal where necessary. Sumptuous soup spilled into bowls in her hands, with delicate greens and vibrant fruits on the same plate, all ing together to create an astonishing meal.
She paused and handed the bowl in her hand to the Seraphae next to her, before turning to Northern with a happy smile.
"Northern," she said, her voice warm in a way that made something in his chest tighten unfortably.
He managed a small smile.
"You look... busy."
"Busy is good. Busy means family is home."
Her eyes glistened, and Northern felt his throat constrict slightly.
’Not this. Anything but this.’
He cleared his throat.
"Need help?"
Eisha laughed—a sound like wind chimes, light and genuine.
"From you? The boy who once tried to cook and nearly burned down half the kitchen?"
Northern’s eyebrow twitched.
"I was seven. And that was Shin’s fault for distracting me."
"Excuses, excuses."
She turned back to the bowls, but her smile remained, warm and teasing.
"But yes, you can help. Just... don’t touch the soup."
’I was seven,’ he thought again, a bit indignant.
Sael stood awkwardly to the side, clearly unsure whether to stay or leave. Northern caught his expression and fought back a smirk.
"Sael, make yourself useful. Start moving those plates to the far end."
"Yes, Lord—I mean, yes, Northern."
For the next several minutes, they worked in panionable silence. Northern found himself watching his mother’s hands—graceful, precise, the same hands that had braided his hair when he was small, that had held him when nightmares came.
The memory sat in his chest like a stone.
’I won’t ask. Not tonight.’
There were questions burning in his mind—about his father, about the elves, about why she’d been missing, about everything—but looking at her now, humming softly as she arranged the table, he found he didn’t want to ruin this moment.
Some truths could wait.
"You’ve grown strong," Eisha said suddenly, not looking at him. "I can see it in the way you move. In your eyes."
Northern paused, a plate in his hands.
"I had to."
"I know."
Her voice was soft, tinged with something that might have been regret.
"Even though we did everything in our power to make sure you never have to face such a life."
Northern set the plate down carefully, his movements deliberate.
"You did what you thought was right."
"And you? Do you think it was right?"
He considered the question, turning it over in his mind. The old him—the one from Earth and the dark continent, weak and used and discarded—would have said no. Would have raged against the secrets, the isolation, the years of not knowing.
But that Northern was dead.
"I think," he said slowly, "that I’m here now. That’s what matters."
Eisha turned to him fully then, and there were tears in her amber eyes—eyes that matched his own. She reached up and cupped his face with both hands, and Northern found himself looking down at her, at this woman who’d haunted his memories for years.
"My beautiful boy. My Lael."
’Oh no.’
"Mom—"
"Shush. Let me have this."
She pulled him down and kissed his forehead, and Northern found himself frozen, unable to protest, unable to pull away. The warmth of it spread through him like sunlight through water—gentle, overwhelming, unwanted and desperately needed all at once.
When she released him, he straightened quickly, clearing his throat and absolutely not noticing the wetness in his own eyes.
’pletely dry. Perfectly fine.’
Sael was suddenly very interested in arranging plates at the far end of the table, his back turned with what might have been tactical discretion.
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