(Selene Ludin's POV)
If someone had told me years ago that I'd end up married to a stubborn adventurer and raising a son with a knack for sneaking into the study instead of playing with toys, I'd have laughed and told them to stop dreaming.
But here I am Selene Ludin, once a proud healer of the Adventurer's Hall, now reduced to chasing after a five-year-old who thinks books are more interesting than people.
And I swear, this boy will be the end of me.
Virel was born with a small tuft of light blue hair that shimmered faintly under the sunlight as if his hair had stolen some of my healing glow. His eyes, though… those bright eyes were trouble. Too sharp. Too observant. Sometimes I'd catch him staring at things with a seriousness no child should have.
I keep telling myself I'm not one of those over-affectionate mothers. Absolutely not. I'm firm, disciplined, and definitely not the type to melt whenever my son giggles.
…At least, that's what I tell my husband, Darius.
He doesn't believe me, of course. He says I turn into a "soft biscuit" whenever Virel smiles. Rubbish.
Still, I can't deny that my little troublemaker has a strange sort of presence. From the moment he started crawling, he's been drawn to things far too advanced for his age. Instead of clinging to his stuffed wolf or playing with the wooden knights Darius carved for him, he crawls straight toward the bookshelf like a moth to a lantern.
The first time I caught him flipping through the pages yes, flipping, not tearing I thought I was hallucinating. What kind of baby looks at letters and frowns like he's trying to understand them?
I tried distracting him with toys, but no, he always found his way back to those books.
I told Darius about it once. He just laughed and said, "He gets that from you."
Nonsense. I may love books, but I don't drool over them like our son does.
---
Ever since he started walking, keeping him in one place became impossible. If I turn away for just a second, he's already sneaking into the study or trying to lift Darius's sword.
Yes, the sword.
My husband, that muscle-headed man, actually tried teaching our son how to swing a blade before he could even pronounce the word "sword."
I nearly fainted.
"Darius Ludin," I remember shouting, "if I see one more bruise on that boy, I'll hit you with that sword next!"
He tried to defend himself, of course. "It was just a demonstration," he said, smiling sheepishly while our son mimicked his stance with a stick.
A demonstration, my foot.
That day, I banned him from sword practice around the child. Naturally, the ban lasted a week.
---
Still, I can't help but be proud.
When we go to town together, Virel's excitement is infectious. His little head turns left and right so fast you'd think he was trying to take in the whole world at once. Every sound, every vendor's call, every glint of metal catches his attention.
He'll tug on my sleeve and ask, "What's that?" a hundred times before we reach the market square.
So I started going out more often once every other day instead of twice a week. It's not because I enjoy seeing his curious face or hearing him chatter about fruit and spices, of course. No, no. I just prefer fresh ingredients. That's all.
(And maybe a little of both.)
---
Sometimes, when I watch him, I see traces of both me and Darius in him.
Darius used to be quite the adventurer a B-class Enhancer by twenty. He was reckless, strong, and just clever enough to survive his own stupidity. I met him while working at the Adventurer's Hall as a healer.
Oh, I still remember the first time he came in half his armor broken, bloodied from head to toe, and still trying to flirt.
He was supposed to hand over his mission report, but the moment our eyes met, he froze. Just stood there, blinking like a stunned beast, until someone behind him pushed him forward and told him to stop blocking the line.
I thought he was hopeless then. I was right.
He made sure to come back after every mission, even when he wasn't injured. "Just checking in, Miss Selene," he'd say with a grin. As if I couldn't tell he'd gone out of his way to see me.
When I refused his invitations, he didn't stop he just found new excuses. Once, he refused to let anyone else treat a wound unless I did it, and even then, he said he'd only let me heal him if I agreed to dinner.
The nerve.
I said yes, mostly out of pity… but he never stopped making me laugh after that.
---
Now he's traded monster-hunting for guard duty in town. Safer, steadier work. It doesn't pay as much, but it means I no longer have to stare at the door wondering if he'll come back alive.
I'd rather have him home, teasing me, than buried under medals.
---
As for Virel, he's growing too quickly for my liking. He rarely gets sick thank the spirits but he has these moments.
Sometimes, I'll find him sitting perfectly still, eyes closed, little hands resting on his knees. At first, I panicked. I thought he was holding his breath or… you know, doing what children do when they need to "go."
But when I checked, that wasn't it. He was… meditating.
A five-year-old. Meditating.
He'd stay that way for a minute or two, then open his eyes and grin as if he'd just solved some grand mystery of the universe.
Strange child.
But when he looks up at me afterward, lifting his small arms with that smile the kind that reaches his eyes my heart feels like it's melting right out of my chest.
I scoop him up every time. I can't resist it.
And if Darius walks in and teases me for being a "soft biscuit," I just glare and pretend I didn't hear him.
Ahem. I'm not a doting mother.
At least… that's what I keep telling myself.
---
There's something about Virel that makes me wonder, though. He's different not just in the obvious ways. His eyes sometimes carry a weight I can't name, like he's seeing a world far beyond this one.
He's too calm for his age, too observant, and too curious about things most children ignore.
I've worked as a healer long enough to know when something is off about a child. But with Virel, it isn't something wrong. It's something hidden.
Something waiting.
And while that thought scares me a little, it also fills me with pride.
Because no matter what fate has in store for him broken core or not he's my son.
And I'll make sure that no matter what path he walks, he won't walk it alone.