Chapter 7 – The Secret of the Emblems
I always thought my parents were normal.
Well… normal for people who raised me, which meant endlessly patient, endlessly tired, and endlessly cleaning up after my "little accidents." But in every way that mattered, they were villagers—simple, hardworking folk who baked bread, tilled soil, and told me not to blow up the house.
But then, one evening, I noticed something.
It was after dinner, when Father leaned back in his chair with a satisfied groan, patting his stomach like he'd just conquered a kingdom. Mother was humming, washing dishes at the sink. Everything was ordinary—except for the faint hum I felt in the air.
A pressure. Subtle, steady, like the low note of a drum only I could hear.
It came from the necklace Father always wore. A simple pendant with a dull gray emblem. Mother wore one too, identical.
I narrowed my eyes. That… isn't normal.
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1. The Touch
Later that night, after my parents went to bed, I sneaked out of my room. (I was getting pretty good at that.)
The house creaked under my bare feet as I padded toward the kitchen, where Father's necklace lay draped over a chair. He must've taken it off before bed.
The hum was stronger up close, like standing next to a waterfall you couldn't hear, only feel. My crimson eyes glowed faintly in the moonlight as I reached out.
The moment my finger brushed the emblem—
BOOM!
A pulse of energy slammed through me. The chair rattled. A jug on the shelf cracked. My hair stood on end as if lightning had kissed me.
I yanked my hand back, heart racing. "What… was that?"
"Fay."
I froze. Mother's voice. Behind me.
I turned slowly. She stood in the doorway, her white nightgown glowing faintly in the moonlight, her own necklace clutched in one hand. Father was behind her, rubbing his eyes, looking half-asleep but very serious.
"You felt it, didn't you?" Father asked.
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2. The Confrontation
I swallowed hard. "That necklace… it isn't just jewelry."
Father sighed, heavy and deep. "No. It isn't."
I glanced between them. "Then what is it? And why do you two wear them every single day? I can feel the power inside. It's… huge. Like it's holding something back."
Neither of them answered at first. The silence was thicker than any spell. Finally, Mother sat at the table and gestured for me to sit too.
"You were bound to notice eventually," she said softly. "Especially with your… sensitivity."
Father grunted. "You're too sharp for own good, boy."
I crossed my arms. "I'm also too curious for my own good. So tell me."
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3. The Truth
Mother placed her emblem on the table. Up close, I could see faint runes etched into the dull surface, lines that seemed to shift when the light caught them.
"These are Sage's Emblems," she said. "Ancient relics that suppress spiritual and magical power. Without them, your father and I…" She hesitated, then exhaled. "We would stand out too much."
Father folded his arms. "We're not gods, Fay. Not demons, not dragons. But among humans and elves, we're strong. Strong enough to be called Sages. Strong enough to frighten people. And sometimes, that's as dangerous as being weak."
I blinked. "Wait. You're telling me my parents are Sages?"
Mother smiled sadly. "Yes. We traveled once. Fought. Learned. But when we chose to settle here, to live a quiet life… we sealed our strength. The emblems let us be commoners. Parents. Just… people."
My mind spun. All this time, I thought I was the only one hiding what I really was. But my parents had been doing the same—on a smaller scale, yes, but the same choice.
I leaned back, letting out a low whistle. "So all those times you scolded me for breaking things…"
"We knew exactly what it felt like," Father finished with a chuckle.
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4. The Lesson
"Fay," Mother said gently, her brown eyes meeting mine (hers were brown, but softer, full of warmth). "Power isn't just a gift. It's a weight. People will expect things from you. Fear you. Worship you. Envy you. And sometimes… they'll try to take it from you."
Father nodded. "That's why we hide it. Because being strong doesn't always mean showing it. Sometimes, the bravest thing is living small."
I rested my chin on my hands. "So… you're saying I should hide too."
Mother reached out, brushing my white hair back from my face. "Only if you choose to. We chose peace. What you choose… is up to you."
Her words lingered, heavy as stone.
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5. Foreshadowing
The days after that felt different.
Every time I looked at my parents, I saw not just the bakers, the gardeners, the scolders of clumsy children—but Sages, powerful enough to stand above armies if they wanted to. And yet, they chose this life.
It made me think. About myself. About Nirvana, the god I used to be. About Fay Lorian, the boy I was now.
Was I really content to stay hidden forever?
The thought should've been easy. But every time the wind shifted, every time the ground trembled faintly when I lost focus, every time I felt those distant eyes watching me from beyond the stars… I wondered.
For now, though, I smiled. My secret wasn't just mine anymore.
Maybe that was enough.
End of Chapter 7