News of Catherine's return with the children, along with the circumstances surrounding them, spread through the small village like a forest fire.
That day, the crash of something breaking echoed across the outskirts, the sharp crack of shattered dishes and splintering furniture, along with screams no child should ever hear.
Poor Headman Ma received stinging slaps every time he ran into one of the villagers. Their shared outrage over how the beloved little Cathy had been allowed to suffer so much was taken out on him.
That night, several people decided to leave the village to let off steam.
Throughout Nightingale, the cries of agony from unlucky werewolves, vampires, and demons rang out as they found themselves on the receiving end of someone's fury. No one knew what had sparked the chaos. Several months later, in the Church of Light in Lutetia, a report detailing a dozen temples burned under unclear circumstances lay before the cardinals.
But none of these events reached the small secluded room in the headman's mansion, where Cassia, Catherine, and the children were resting.
Their journey had lasted nearly nine months. Constant relocations, sleeping with one eye open, and endless flight had drained them completely. Even Catherine and Cassia, who were used to going without sleep for weeks at a time, felt the weight lift from their shoulders.
The children had long since passed the threshold of ordinary exhaustion.
For the first time in many months, they let go of their worries entirely.
Catherine did not think about anything. The moment she lay down on the bed, she fell asleep at once, pulling the twins close against her.
Right beside the bed, curled into a tight ball on the warm carpet, the catgirl dozed quietly. She could have stayed in her own room, but that night she wanted to be with them. The road had been too long, and her mistress's peace seemed too fragile.
Thus passed the family's first night in the Village of the Forsaken.
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"Cock-a-doodle-doo… Cock-a-doodle-doo…" the local rooster, Nikolai, dutifully announced the arrival of a new day.
The first rays of sunlight slipped through the heavy curtains, weaving into the dimness and filling the room with a soft, honeyed glow. In that light, everything looked calmer than ever before.
Grey, his small head resting comfortably against his mother's chest, slowly opened his eyes and sleepily rubbed them with his fists. How long had it been since he had felt such deep, untroubled rest? No haste, no anxiety, only warmth, a soft bed, and the comforting embrace of his mother and sister.
He turned his head, listening to their steady breathing.
This intimate moment, their warmth, that lazy, lingering bliss all of it felt almost unreal after months of flight. Yes, he had slept on the road, but sleep in transit never brought true peace. Even in slumber they had remained on guard, and Mother, most of all, had barely allowed herself to close her eyes.
Now, however, Catherine was different. She was completely relaxed.
She lay on her back just as she had come into the world, as though dissolved into the softness of the bed.
Her long silver hair spilled freely across the pillow, cascading over the sheets in a shining wave. The blanket covered her just enough to trace the smooth lines of her body, and a tranquil smile played upon her lips.
She looked astonishingly light, gentle, almost weightless.
Sensing his movement, Catherine did not open her eyes, but stretched slightly and smiled a drowsy smile that only further enchanted the little rascal.
And when she caught where her son's attentive gaze had settled, her voice sounded soft, warm, and faintly teasing.
"Fufufu, my dear…" she whispered, her lips barely moving. "There's no 'look but don't touch' rule here. If you want your morning milk, just take it."
Grey didn't need to be invited twice.
His eyes lit up, his face pressed against her bare breasts, and his lips pressed against the small pink tip.
Catherine's breasts were incredibly soft, so much so that Grey's face sank into her supple skin like dough. He could smell her sweet scent and feel the warmth of her body hugging him.
Catherine barely suppressed a moan as Grey's cheeks retracted and he began to suck her breasts hungrily.
Her son's behavior came as a surprise to her, because she thought that her children had grown up and would be embarrassed to drink her milk.
A second later, when she got used to the "new" sensations, her face lit up with a smile.
She immediately took Grey's head and pressed it closer to her, gently stroking his dark hair. Her slender fingers with slightly pointed nails tangled in his hair, lightly scratching his skin.
The sensation made Grey feel goosebumps all over. The sweet taste of milk, the warm skin of his mother, the intoxicating scent of her body and gentle caresses — all this gave him such an intense feeling of pleasure that he almost turned into jelly.
"Darling, take your time... There's enough milk..." Catherine whispered, trying not to wake Grace.
But the girl had already woken up. She was woken up by her brother's overly active actions.
As soon as she opened her eyes, she saw that he was pressed into his mother's chest. She wanted to cry.
"Wh-what?! Mom, why don't you feed me? I want milk too!" — it seemed that Grace was very offended that she was not invited.
Catherine, who sensed that Grey wasn't going to stop, pulled her daughter to her free chest. Her pink pearl was right next to Grace's lips.
Grace was so close that she could see white liquid oozing out of the swollen tip. She stuck out her tongue and immediately licked it off. The liquid was sweet and very tasty.
Without thinking anymore, she took the nipple in her mouth and started sucking. Her movements were more gentle than Grey's.
"Fufufu, my babies, if you missed your mother's milk so much, you just had to ask," Catherine told them, her eyes becoming a little wet.
She liked that feeling. She hugged the children closer, as if trying to compensate for all the months of anxiety and lack of sleep. In those moments, her babies really resembled two little kittens who had finally found their way to their mother cat.
She had no intention of limiting them. If she had known earlier how much they needed her milk, she would not have hesitated for a second.
Breastfeeding gave her too much joy. It was as if she was giving them all her love in the simplest and most natural way.
Grey and Grace completely shared her mood. Their little hands clutched at her skin, as if they were trying to vent all their sorrows and irritation, demanding a lot of love right here and now.
Catherine obeyed without the slightest resistance and continued stroking their soft hair.
They finished only half an hour later, when Nikolai the rooster finally stopped his crowing.
Grey was the first to slip out of bed. He nimbly jumped down onto the floor, stretched with a satisfied sigh, and drew in a deep breath. It felt as though not a trace of fatigue remained in his body. As if a single night of proper rest beneath a soft blanket, nestled between his mother and sister, had washed every worry away.
It was as though he had stepped back in time. In this village, he would once again spend nearly every hour of the day in the company of Mother, Grace, and Cassia.
Yes, he had no magic and never would, but that had always been the case. And right now, he had no desire to think about it. Their presence was enough.
"Mom," he muttered with a yawn, "where's Cassia? I thought she'd be here."
Catherine laughed softly, stretching in the bed as though bathing in the sunlight. "She went to take a bath, dear."
Grey continued rummaging through the wardrobe, searching for his old favorite shirt, the very one Mother always suggested throwing away. But he paused when he heard her answer.
"Cassia? Went to bathe? On her own? Without being threatened? I thought she hated getting wet, like all beastfolk from the cat tribe."
Catherine shrugged. "Usually a damp towel is enough for her. But after such a long journey, perhaps she feels too dusty. Who knows?"
"Now that's what I call a new home, new life," Grey muttered, finally finding what he had been looking for.
While he got dressed, Grace sat peacefully on the edge of the bed, enjoying her mother's gentle touch as Catherine carefully combed through her snowy-white hair. The girl, still barely awake, sat with half-closed eyes, swaying lazily to the rhythm of the brush.
"B-brother…" she cooed in a sleepy voice. "When will you learn to comb hair like Mom? Last time, you ripped half of it out."
"Maybe when I become a god," Grey smirked, pulling on his shirt. "Definitely not in this era."
Grace opened her mouth to reply, then changed her mind. The simple fact that her brother was joking again filled her with more joy than anything else.
When everyone was finally ready, Catherine cast a quick glance at the children and could not hide a proud smile.
Grace looked especially sweet: a snow-white dress patterned with tiny flowers, a light fringe framing her large blue eyes, and neat braids falling over her shoulders. The charming dimples on her cheeks gave her that angelic look her mother never tired of kissing.
Grey was dressed more simply: a plain white shirt and matching trousers. Yet the moment he lifted his chin slightly and smiled, Catherine thought once again that he looked dangerously charming. His blue eyes shone with gentle affection, and his hair was tousled as if an artist had deliberately crafted that "natural disarray."
"When they grow up, I'll certainly lose count of broken hearts…" she murmured to herself, recalling the playful exchanges between him and Cassia.
Catherine opened the door and there stood Cassia, dressed in her usual maid outfit, her expression perfectly neutral. Her black cat ears were perked up, as if awaiting an order.
"Cassia," Catherine called softly but firmly, "this isn't a hotel or an inn. This is our home. You don't need to stand guard at the door. Rest in your room. You've worked enough, and I don't want to hear that I'm mistreating my maid. Understood?"
"Yes, ma'am," the catgirl replied, blushing slightly. Her ears twitched noticeably—a reaction she couldn't suppress at the caring tone of her mistress.
"All right, now let's go introduce the children to the villagers."
When they stepped outside, an unexpectedly lively scene unfolded before their eyes: a crowd had gathered at the headman's house, as if the entire village had decided to show up at once. Headman Mark waved his arms in vain, trying to maintain order and pleading with everyone to return to their homes until the official meeting. But no one paid him the slightest heed.
Out of every corner came indignant voices:
"Old man Ma, get lost! I haven't seen little Cathy in ten years, and you tell me to leave? Do you have any conscience?"
"Old man, don't block the way of this respectable lady! Believe it or not, I'll knock your cabbage rolls out of your hands!"
"If you don't move right now, forget about my alcohol and tobacco. You'll have to settle for your sour gruel!"
"I heard they were bothering my little Catty on the street, and here you stand like a fence post! Aren't you ashamed, old miser?"
And so on, and so forth.
The whole scene resembled a lone invalid being harassed by an enraged mob.
But everything fell silent almost instantly when Catherine appeared on the doorstep with the children. For a moment, she was taken aback by the sheer number of people, but she quickly composed herself and stepped forward to introduce the children.
"Greetings, Elders," she said, bowing slightly. "This lovely young lady is my first daughter, Grace."
"Hello, grandmothers and grandfathers," Grace chimed brightly, as if she had spent her whole life rehearsing this very phrase.
"She's adorable! Just like Cathy was as a child… Ah, brings back memories…"
"My goodness, how sweet! Come to grandmother. She'll give you something to eat. Look how skinny you are."
"Like mother, like daughter—they're the spitting image of each other. She'll grow up to be such a beauty she could topple an empire with a single smile!"
Catherine smiled gently and proudly.
Then she introduced, "And this young gentleman is my youngest son, Grey. Please take care of him."
This time, a brief, expressive silence fell. The elders scrutinized the boy from head to toe, as if they couldn't believe their eyes. Some squinted warily, others sighed with longing.
Reactions varied, yet, as experienced elders, they quickly composed themselves and smiled just as sweetly.
And then it began:
"My, what a handsome boy! My heart feels young again just looking at him!"
"Ah, if I were a couple of centuries younger, I'd have stolen him for myself."
"Cathy, darling, were you so desperate that you created yourself a perfect husband?"
"Look at that figure! That gaze! He's the ideal warrior!"
"Could it be that Persephone finally played enough with Adonis and sent him into the cycle of reincarnation? Why did no one warn me?! How can a man be this perfect?"
Catherine listened closely to the endless stream of compliments, her own radiance growing with every word. Her eyes spoke louder than any speech: Yes, yes, look, admire — these are my wonderful children. I made them! Praise them even more… Oh, alright, enough flattery, they'll get arrogant… Well, fine, fine... carry on…
She flushed slightly at her own thoughts, yet each praise for the children made her smile widen just a little more. Behind her stood Cassia, outwardly composed… but her tail betrayed her true feelings, flicking gently from side to side like a contented cat being stroked on the belly.
She had grown up alongside Catherine, watching the children grow, playing with them, and protecting them. As the perfect maid, she loved the twins as fiercely as her mistress did.
When the tragedy struck little Grey, her heart had shattered. She had longed to cry or lash out at everyone in the Acropolis who had caused him pain… but she could not.
She had stood by Catherine, restraining her fury, and only when she had taken little Grace back from the hands of the shrew Eva did she understand why she had worked to become stronger at all.
To be there.
She swore she would remain by Grey's side forever. She would be his shadow, his guardian, his friend, and, if necessary, his wife. She would always protect him, even if he remained mortal for all time.
She would never regret it. Because it was him.
And as the crowd praised her little master with unrestrained delight, a single, genuine tear of happiness rolled down her cheek.
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Dear readers, I have to inform you that this work was rejected when applying for a contract without the possibility of revision. Therefore, I was forced to create a second version of the book, where I will publish the latest updates.
I will not give up on this version, but some chapters will be posted a little later than in the main one.
The book is called "The Mad Immortal"
https://www.webnovel.com/book/the-mad-immortal_34969618200258905###
Many thanks for your support, active comments and reviews.
This will help more readers to get acquainted with my book, which means my chances of getting a contract will increase and you will receive content more often. (The author also needs to eat and provide for his family)