Two weeks passed.
The frantic energy of our return settled into a tense new routine. We trained. We watched. We waited for a sign of Gluttony Keph.
But nothing happened. The world was stubbornly, blessedly normal.
After days of scanning spiritual frequencies and sensing nothing, even Kephriel had to admit it, though it clearly pained him.
"The fusion must have created a... stable paradox,"
he muttered, looking out Dao's window as if he could see across dimensions.
"He is likely trapped in a self-sustaining cycle of consumption and satiation in one of the deepest, most isolated pits of hell. He is not coming. For now."
The words should have been a relief. But they just left a different kind of hollow feeling. We were safe, but we were also stuck. Our god of death was neutered, visible to cats and sensitive children, and our ultimate enemy was out of reach.
It was in this strange limbo that the old longing returned, sharper than ever. The goal that had started it all.
My parents.
I found Kephriel trying to blend into the shadows of Dao's living room, which was difficult when you faintly glowed. He was wearing an comically large black hoodie( probably Niran's )and sunglasses, his attempt at incognito that made him look like a celebrity avoiding paparazzi.
"We need to get going, it's a long trip." I said.
He peered over his sunglasses. "Where? The corner store is out of my favorite sorrow-tainted chips."
"My grandmother's. In Indonesia."
He stared at me. "This is a profoundly bad time for a family reunion."
"She knew my mother," I said, the words simple and final.
He saw the resolve on my face. He sighed, a sound of utter exasperation.
"Fine. But if I am seen, the resulting cognitive dissonance in the mortal population could cause a minor reality schism. This is your responsibility."
He grabbed my shoulder. The teleportation wasn't its usual majestic, chain-filled journey. It was a lurch, a stumble through a tunnel that felt like it might collapse at any moment. We landed in a heap of limbs and dusty air in front of a small, brightly painted house surrounded by lush green plants.
Kephriel immediately shoved his sunglasses back on and pulled his hood up so far all I could see was his scowling mouth.
"I feel nauseous,"
he grumbled. "And the spiritual energy here is... loud."
It was. The air hummed with a gentle, ancient power. This was a place of old magic and deep roots.
I knocked.
The door flew open. My grandmother stood there, not looking a day different from my faint childhood memories. She was a small woman with a fierce glint in her eyes, wearing a vibrant floral dress.
"Rafael!"
she exclaimed, not with shock, but with mild curiosity.
"You've grown so much!"
She pulled me into a bone-crushing hug that smelled of ginger and incense.
Then she peered past me at the hulking figure in the oversized hoodie and sunglasses trying to look inconspicuous next her potted ferns.
"...And you brought a friend. Does he need to use the bathroom?"
"This is... Kevin," I said quickly.
"Charmed," Kephriel deadpanned from the depths of his hood.
She ushered us inside into a cozy, cluttered living room filled with family photos and spiritual trinkets. She didn't ask why I was here after years of silence. She just started bringing out plates of food.
"Nene," I started, my voice feeling small. "I... tried to text. Call."
She waved a dismissive hand. "This phone! All the buttons are too small. It beeps at me. I gave it to the neighbor's boy. He uses it to play games." She said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
I took a deep breath, getting straight to the point.
"I need to know about my mother. What was she like?"
She stopped fussing with the tea she was pouring and looked at me, her expression softening into something deep and knowing. She saw the desperate need in my eyes.
"Ah, your mother,"
she said, her voice becoming a gentle murmur.
"She had your eyes. The same sadness in them, even when she smiled. But her smile... it could light up this whole village. She was strong. Too strong for her own good, sometimes. She felt everything too deeply. The world was too loud for her."
She touched a faded photograph on the wall of a beautiful, young woman with a shy smile.
"She wanted peace, more than anything. I think she finally found it."
I looked at the photo, my heart aching. It was the first real piece of her I'd ever had.
Kephriel, who had been statue-still in the corner, shifted uncomfortably.
"The energy here is... amplifying things. We should go."
My grandmother's sharp eyes flicked to him.
"Your friend is very strange, Rafael. He is... empty and full at the same time. Like a broken vase someone keeps trying to fill with the wrong things."
She said it with no malice, just a simple, spiritual observation.
Kephriel went very still under his hoodie.
I thanked her, promised to visit again (and get her a simpler phone), and let a very agitated Kephriel whisk us away in another nauseating, wobbly teleport.
We landed back in Dao's living room. I was quiet, holding the image of my mother's smile in my mind.
Kephriel ripped off the hoodie and sunglasses, looking drained.
"Never again,"
he vowed. "The grandmother is a natural spiritual amplifier. It was... unsettling."
But he'd done it. He'd taken me there. And for the first time, I had an answer. I had a face. I had a reason for the hollow space inside me. It wasn't just my shape. It was hers, too.
The goal wasn't just a fantasy anymore. It felt possible.