Alpha Instinct-Chapter 51: "To The Lad"

Leonard, hands trembling, began to read the letter.

"Dear Leonard, my lad,"

"If you’re reading this letter, I’m dead. And if I’m dead, it means the worst has happened. It means the shadow I feared, the shadow that hid for so long in the heart of our kingdom, has finally revealed itself."

"I don’t have much time, nor do I know if these words will even reach you. But I have to try. I need you to know the truth, the truth that was entrusted to me and that I now pass into your hands. I agreed to come to Lumeria only to protect you, it was a sworn promise, sworn by my ELEV."

"First, about me. You knew me as Roland Silverback, the ’Devil’s Hand,’ the Captain of the Gothian Guard. But I am, and always have been, above all, a friend. A loyal friend to King Marcus, I was the supreme commander devoted to Dunkel, and, above all, a friend passionate about Leah Winter."

"Yes, a Winter."

"Ah, Leah... the light of Dunkel, the warrior princess, the woman I loved in secret for my entire adult life, well before her father. You knew her briefly as a mother, but perhaps you didn’t realize the strength, the kindness, the courage that radiated from her, as a woman, a warrior, and a Neumond."

"Yes again, a Neumond."

"Leah was a formidable Equalizer Neumond, at 18 and already at Platinum rank."

"She was the hope of our kingdom, the promise of a better future. And now... now she’s gone, but there’s still hope, and that hope has to do with your blood."

"That hope is you, Leonard."

"I saw you born, lad! You grabbed my finger before your father’s, your sapphire-blue eyes seeking to hide from the Light as I helped your mother escape the royal palace."

Th𝓮 most uptodate nov𝑒ls are publish𝒆d on ƒreewebηoveℓ.com.

"You are special, boy, because of your blood. Your blue eyes... they’re not just beautiful, they’re the mark of an ancient and royal lineage, the lineage of the Winters, the direct descendants of the legendary Neumond triplets, those who saved humanity from extinction. You are Leah’s son, lad."

"I don’t know all the details about what it means to be a Weize. Find out what is a Weize, and what this means. Those were your mother’s words at your birth, and I leave that mission in your hands."

"That you were a Weize."

"And that’s why you’re in danger. That damned prophecy reached King Edward’s ears, and he’s hunting Neumonds with late awakenings."

"Speaking of Edward, the new king... he’s not who he seems to be. He’s a man consumed by ambition, blinded by power. He orchestrated the death of his own father, King Marcus, blaming the neighboring kingdom of Fulgor. I tried to stop him, tried to warn the kingdom, but I was betrayed, demoted, and silenced. In the end, I was just the Captain of Gothia’s Guard."

"Edward will hunt you, Leonard. He knows, somehow, about the prophecy, but he doesn’t know about your connection to Leah."

"Even so, he will seek to eliminate any obstacle that threatens his totalitarian power."

""Trust no one, except yourself and the loyal members of the Guild House. They will help you if you need it. I made sure of that."

"I failed, Leonard. I failed to protect Leah, I failed to protect the kingdom, I failed as a captain. But you... you still have a chance. A chance to fight, to discover the truth, to reclaim your rightful throne."

"Train, Leonard. Learn to control your powers. Seek knowledge. Seek allies. And, above all, never give up."

"Hit the road and become the man your mother dreamed of, the man she prophesied."

"Be strong, my little friend. Be brave."

"With love and hope,"

"Your friend who will watch over you."

"Roland."

PS: I never wrote a letter before. I hope you understand. This old man is just trying to fulfill his promise with your mom.

___________________________

Leonard’s tears soaked the parchment. He struggled to hold them back, but the pain and longing in the words he read, the memories evoked, and the hidden surprise were too much for him.

He clutched the letter tightly, his body trembling in an effort to contain his sobs. The sound of his grief broke the silence of the small room, a stark contrast to the stillness of the Guild House refuge.

The small, familiar gold pendant in his hand, along with the letter, brought Roland’s image flooding back—his deep laugh, his firm advice, and the heavy, comforting hand on his shoulder.

Silica stood on the other side of the room, her posture rigid, her face as expressionless as ever. But something had changed. A hesitation.

She approached, extending a white linen handkerchief.

Leonard took the handkerchief, his fingers briefly touching hers. He raised his face to thank her. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice hoarse.

Leonard’s eyes sought comfort in hers, but, for some reason, without success.

For an instant, Silica’s hand hovered in the air, as if she hesitated. Then, it landed on Leonard’s head. A light touch, almost imperceptible, but firm. A subtle warmth spread where she touched, a gesture of support that contrasted with her usual coldness.

"It’s going to be okay, Mr. Leonard," Silica said, her voice low, almost a whisper, but filled with an unusual firmness. "But you need to pull yourself together. And fast. Gothia is no longer a safe place."

Leonard sniffled, wiping his face roughly with the handkerchief. Silica’s words, harsh but necessary, woke him to reality. He remembered his mother’s words inside that dark well years ago.

"You need to be strong."

"I..." He swallowed hard, his throat scratchy. "I need to go to Roland’s grave. I need to say goodbye. See it with my own eyes." It wasn’t a request; he was truly determined to go.

Silica’s hand withdrew. Her expression, previously slightly softened, was now an iceberg of concern.

"That is... extremely reckless, Mr. Leonard," she said, her formal tone back, but with a clear urgency in her voice. "Mount Lichtwelt. It’s a guarded area. Especially now."

Leonard knew it was madness, but it was his way of defying the king and saying goodbye to the last person he could now call family.

Not saying goodbye to Roland, not paying his last respects, was non-negotiable. The memories and his wishes for the dear people who had passed were his only anchor to sanity.

"I need to go," he told Silica, his voice now firmer, filled with a determination born of pain and necessity.