Walking past the invisible barrier and into Whitecrest Clan territory, the world shifted around her.
From bright green trees and bright green grass…
to white grass and white trees, glowing faintly under the mana‑rich air.
A woman walked alone.
She wore a flowing white dress, a white fur coat draped around her shoulders, and white boots that sank softly into the pale grass. Her light‑brown skin warmed under the sun, her outfit glowing as if woven from moonlight.
Her half‑lit grey eyes stayed lowered as she approached the massive waterfall, carrying a long object wrapped in white cloth with both hands.
She stopped before the pond.
Her eyes lit — bright white beams.
The pond glowed from soft blue…
to blinding white.
The water evaporated.
The pond dried.
White grass sprouted from the dirt.
The waterfall slowed…
then stopped entirely.
The stone wall behind it revealed itself —
a towering slab of black stone.
It split open.
She stepped inside.
Instantly, a woman rushed toward her.
"Mrs. Sienna!"
Sienna raised an eyebrow. "Yes, what is it?"
The villagers around them murmured, whispering, trembling with excitement.
Sienna glanced around, noticing the unusual commotion.
"Did something happen—?"
"Your son arrived! Just an hour ago!"
Sienna's hands loosened.
The wrapped object nearly slipped from her grasp.
Her heart pounded.
Her breath caught.
Her mind raced.
"Where is he?"
The woman pointed toward the towering black castle.
"Chief Yami took him there, along with some friends of his."
Friends?
Sienna thought, confused.
But the thought vanished instantly.
She gripped the wrapped object tighter—
and sprinted.
She didn't care who stared.
She didn't care if she stumbled.
She didn't care if she looked desperate.
She was desperate.
Desperate to see her son for the first time in many, many years.
She ran fast.
Faster than she had in decades.
When she reached the castle, she climbed the steps, breath shaking, chest rising and falling rapidly.
She lit her eyes again.
The doors opened.
She stepped inside.
The hall was quiet.
Too quiet.
She stood in the center, looking around, scanning the long corridors.
Left.
Then right.
Down the right hall, she saw three figures sitting on a couch — relaxed, drinking tea, chatting softly.
Iris.
Vaelus.
Selyndra.
She walked toward them, slow footsteps echoing through the hall lined with portraits of past Chiefs.
It felt endless — like she was walking through time itself, through memories, through lifetimes.
Until she reached the end.
She stepped into the room.
And there—
Standing by the lit fireplace—
Eiden and Yami looked at an old painting of the three of them, taken when Eiden was only four.
The laughter stopped.
The chatter died.
The room froze.
Iris, Vaelus, and Selyndra turned.
Eiden and Yami turned.
Sienna's heart stopped.
She saw her son.
Her beautiful son.
Her child she had not held in fourteen decades.
Her eyes filled instantly.
Her breath trembled.
Her knees nearly buckled.
The object in her hands slipped—
falling to the floor with a heavy doom that echoed through the hall.
She didn't even look at it.
She sprinted.
And before Eiden could react, she wrapped her arms around him—
pulling him into a desperate, trembling embrace.
A hug that shook her entire body.
A hug that clung to him like he might disappear again.
A hug that carried fourteen decades of grief, fear, longing, and love.
A hug that had been waiting for over a century.
Eiden stood still for a moment.
Then slowly—
quietly—
he lifted his arms…
and hugged his mother back.
He lowered his head, placing it past hers and into her shoulder.
His breath hitched.
His chest tightened.
He felt like he, too, was about to cry.
He held her tightly.
"Do you know how long I've waited?"
Her voice cracked, shaking against him.
"How long I've prayed you didn't get yourself killed?"
Her fingers dug into his back, clinging to him like a lifeline.
"How long I've wanted to see you?"
Her body shook.
Her voice heaved.
Her tears soaked into his cloak.
"You had me fucking worried," she said, voice still quivering.
Iris's eyes softened, her hand covering her mouth.
Vaelus — loud, joking, chaotic Vaelus — was silent, a genuine smile warming his face.
Selyndra sat with a soft smile as well, legs crossed, hands resting in her lap, tea forgotten.
The room was quiet except for the crackling fire
and Sienna's soft, broken sobs.
Yami stood by the fireplace, still holding the small painting of the three of them.
He smiled — a quiet, nostalgic smile.
Vaelus swallowed.
This isn't how Eiden described her, he thought.
This wasn't the mother Eiden remembered.
This wasn't the mother who was always harsh.
This wasn't the mother who was always cold to others.
No.
This was a mother who finally let that act go.
A mother who had been holding herself together for fourteen decades.
A mother who had lost her son — and now had him back.
A mother who loved him more than she ever let herself show.
A mother who finally broke.