It was a happy time for us—just me and him. For three years he was healthy and grew faster than most children, and I was unable to see the problem with that. A mother's love is indeed blind. I kept wishing for his brother and father's return every day, but all I could do was wish.
It was around that time the problems began. I never could figure out his Manifest, and it was hard to foresee it, but soon I would understand why. His spontaneous Manifest awakenings increased, and each time I would fall unconscious near him, waking up remembering nothing. No matter how hard I tried, all I could recall was his eyes glowing red, then waking up. My heart raced, filled with fear and worry. I stopped going out and stayed inside for days—if his Manifest awakened in front of people, other children, it might cause issues. But more importantly, it might reveal our act of breaking the Rubicon.
I successfully managed to make him sleep during the day so I could do my daily routine, forage for food, and search for a solution—even if only temporary. I read many books over and over. I sent letters vaguely explaining the situation and seeking help. Our neighbors and the people of the village helped me a lot. Their warm and joyous smiles kept me pushing through, day by day… yet their uplifting emotions faded slowly. They grew more and more tired, depressed, and worn out. It was all due to me being a burden—or so I thought."
She paused, wiping her tears, sobbing. Ren grinned, then burst out laughing. "I just realized… I never got the chance to ask about your name."
Her eyes closed, tears falling like a waterfall. She got angry and annoyed by his behavior, opened her eyes ready to lash out—then saw Ren's tears too, the small pools they made on the table while he hid his eyes with his forearm, still laughing. She smiled, understanding what he was aiming for.
"My name is Tamara. I used to be a candidate for knighthood, but I was injured during training and ended up as a scholar's assistant. So don't you dare underestimate your teacher, boy!"
She cleared her face, refreshed. "We must continue." She cleared her throat and closed her eyes.
"My son turned six earlier this year, and along with it came the waves season. It was the worst time to be isolated, but my son's spontaneous Manifest awakenings diminished and stopped. He became more able to control it, but he never showed me what it was, nor could I explain it. With time, I managed to understand its limitations: by simply keeping a certain distance, you don't lose consciousness. So we were able to walk around the village for a while.
I noticed the people avoiding us, unresponsive to our greetings. Their faces grew paler by the day. Their eyes were sunken and rimmed with bruise-dark circles, the whites faintly bloodshot. The people who had been joyous and welcoming now walked slowly and barely looked at us. I realized the situation we were in, so I forbade my son from leaving the house, fearing the worst. But to my expectations, that wasn't enough.
One day I went to forage in the forest and maybe catch some fish by the river. Upon my return to the village, I heard screams coming from my house. I ran without a second thought, leaving everything behind. I reached the house to find the door open, lock broken. Inside was complete chaos. Screams I recognized. I ran upstairs just to find my son being attacked—eyes burned and bleeding, bruises and cuts everywhere. I thought it was some wild animal. I looked through the window, but nothing—except people. My neighbors, the people of this village, standing outside. Their angry gazes told me the truth: it was their doing.
I went and secured the door, locking us both inside. Days passed. His scars healed, but he lost his sight. I couldn't sleep. I stayed awake, staring through windows as the movement around the house increased—or was it just my imagination? My eyes grew dry and heavy. I couldn't sleep without hearing my son screaming. Every time I looked at his scarred eyes, tears came. He sensed it, smiled, and said, 'If you cry, I'll cry—and it will hurt my eyes.' But when he slept, I cried alone, blaming myself. I wondered what happened that day—why did they attack him? Was it the act of breaking the Rubicon?
Weeks after, the 22nd watchtower guardian came riding, alerting us of the imminent chimera waves. We should remain inside until it was clear. The waves might reach this far, and if that happened, prepare for evacuation. The people were speechless and unhinged, which made the situation even weirder as he passed by.
After the incident I started sneaking out at night to forage and set traps in the river, just so I could keep an eye on them by day. But the night everything fell apart, I went deep into the forest by the river to empty the traps and reset them. It was after midnight. I was cautious, taking different roads and changing trap locations further just to be safe.
Upon my return I saw the village from a distance. Usually dark, it was swarming with light. I ran instinctively. With every step I cried more and more. I reached the entrance and saw the crowd at the center of the village—torches everywhere. Screams from afar begging to stop.
An entire village gathered at night around a little boy tied to a pillar, surrounded by timber, about to be burned alive. They saw me coming and lit it right away. They stopped me from approaching while he cried and screamed.
'Stop, Tamara! We need to do this. We have to—that boy is wicked,' some said.
'He's not your boy,' others said.
I screamed he was just a child. Their grips tightened around my arms. I punched, scratched, kicked—forgotten fighting instincts surged back. I pushed and shoved until I slipped free, then threw myself into the flames, and managed to free him, but we were surrounded. The heat intensified, so I shielded him, putting my body toward the flames. I was deep in thought, trying to find ways to escape—too focused to see the shock on their faces. Not shock at what I'd done, but at what was happening behind me.
I noticed, but it was already too late. A pulse passed through me. My consciousness suddenly felt heavy. I knew what this feeling was. I turned toward the cause—toward my son—but my consciousness faded already. The last thing I saw was my son's glowing eyes and a smile—not warm or joyous, but malignant.
And suddenly I found myself here."
She opened her eyes. Ren's eyes were wide with shock. Then he stood, hand on the table.
"No. That can't be it. There has to be more to it. It couldn't have ended like that."
She nodded. "At first I was alone in this village. But suddenly the people of the village appeared here all at once—though they were acting different, looked different… like they were just shells of their former selves."
Then she ended her story and got up. Ren grabbed her hand.
"Listen, Tamara—it's not the time to keep information. We need to know. I need to know so we can leave this place."
She sighed and pushed him gently away. "Then it's time for me to explain what's happening here."
She sat back. "As you know, Ren, I am an Aspect, and my Manifest has something to do with plants. I never got the chance to learn what it is. After I awakened as an Aspect, all I could do was extend small roots and branches through my fingers and accelerate small plants' growth at will. It wasn't the strongest thing, but it could have grown into something majestic. That's why we Aspects require more training than Vessels—not physical training, but intense sessions of isolated training, pushing our Manifest growth to the edge.
But before I began mine, I had an accident. I used to climb this particular cliff in my free time just to reach one small tree that grew at the top, so I could take care of it. I climbed it for one last time to remove it and take it with me. Upon reaching the top, I was captivated by the view like always—seeing the only river that ran through the Golden Sanctuary. I looked down at the water below and felt someone pushing me. I fell and hit my head on a rock that broke my skull and other parts of my body. They found me drifting through the river and called it a training accident.
After that I could no longer sense or awaken my Manifest. I spent years recovering and ended up as an assistant for a scholar there. I quit a couple of years later.
The reason I'm telling you this, Ren, is because I awakened my Manifest during this incident—not of my own will, but the will of my son. I learned it through the memories of one of his victims. When I lost consciousness that moment, he extended his arm, pointing his hand as if commanding something. He used my Manifest through me...but he made it monstrous, strengthening it, growing it multiple folds. Roots burst from the ground like a thick forest, attacking those people who intended to harm us. Massive amounts of roots—each one moving at incredible speed—captured a victim, twisted around their bodies, incapacitating them and suspending them in the air, hanging.
Then he spread both arms and turned around as if praising his own work. A massive tree started to grow from the ground quickly—in minutes it towered over the forest, tens of meters high. What I could only coax into tiny roots, he forced into a forest. All his captured victims were screaming, but their eyes glowed simultaneously, and then it was dead silence.
And that was the last time someone actually saw him. They were his slaves now—in the dream world. Once they were here, I could see their memories. I saw how it all went downhill.
When he slept by day, at night he would reach through his Manifest and awaken mine—using me to reach them. Small roots spread through the dark, slipping into their sleep. He planted nightmares… horrors that stole their rest. He used me as a medium to twist those poor people.
And I blamed myself every time."