thief of fate-Chapter 91: The Original Valerian Diaries 2

"When the Mother Fell Silent... and the Palace with Her"

I was twelve years old when I saw her lying on the bed, unmoving.

She was my mother, a woman unlike any other. In her presence, rooms felt warmer, winters less harsh, and even my father, Edgar, would soften when she spoke. She didn’t fight with a sword, but she had a strange power—she could silence screaming with a single word, extinguish flames with a glance.

But that day...

That day was silent.

I entered the room slowly. No one had told me anything, only faint whispers in the halls, hurried footsteps, and two maids crying in the corner. I knew something unnatural had happened, but I wasn’t ready to see her like that.

Lying down. Eyes closed. Her skin pale, as if life itself had paused beside her, then moved on without touching her.

I approached... my steps quiet, my heart pounding like war drums.

"Mother?" I whispered, as if my voice might commit a crime in that silence.

She didn’t answer.

I placed my hand on hers... it was warm, but she didn’t squeeze back like she always did.

In that moment, something broke inside me.

Not sadness... not yet.

But fear.

Fear of the unknown, of the silence, of the absence of something I always thought would be there.

"She’s ill," the doctor said, "but we don’t know the cause. No fever, no poison, no injury. Just... an endless sleep."

I heard his words as if from a dream—or a nightmare.

"When will she wake up?" I asked.

"We don’t know, young master."

I saw my father in the corner, standing like a statue carved from ice. His arms clasped behind his back, his posture straight, his face devoid of expression.

But he didn’t look at me.

He stared at her.

Long and silent.

As if trying to awaken her with his gaze, or begging her without words.

I saw something in his eyes... not tears, but emptiness. A terrifying void, as if the world had collapsed within him.

I approached him. Stood by his side. He didn’t speak.

A moment passed—or maybe an eternity—before he whispered, without looking at me: "You must be strong, Valerian."

His words were heavy, cold, broken.

He wasn’t talking to me... he was talking to himself.

In the days that followed, the palace remained still. No music, no banquets, no group training. Even Zeek said nothing when he saw me. As if everyone agreed that something beyond their power was happening... and all they could do was watch.

Carlos was always there. He prepared food for me, told me to sleep, whispered for me to breathe slowly when my heart raced.

"You’ll be okay," he said. "She’s not okay." "But she’s still breathing. That means there’s hope." "Do mothers recover from illnesses with no name?" He went silent. Then said calmly: "She’s not like other mothers, young master... Maybe she won’t recover like the others. Maybe... she’ll wake up when she wants to."

I visited her every morning.

I sat by her bed and told her about my training, about Zeek, the sky, and a book I’d read. I knew she couldn’t hear me, but I... couldn’t bear the silence.

And sometimes, I cried.

But I always made sure to cry only when I was alone.

Because I inherited at least one thing from my father... hiding your fragility, even from yourself.

Weeks passed. Then months.

She didn’t wake.

But I never stopped visiting her.

I never stopped talking to her.

And deep inside... I was waiting for a miracle.

Not because I believed in miracles...

But because I needed one.

...

The sky was overcast, and the gardens—usually bursting with color—were dull, as if reflecting how we all felt. That day was Alexis’ "Discovery Ceremony."

Our mother wasn’t there.

For the first time, she wasn’t standing beside us, placing her hand on the shoulder of the one being tested, whispering something we never understood but always felt calming.

We stood in the grand courtyard—me, Raine, Claire, and Father—like a painting missing its frame. Alexis stood before the statue, in his simple robe, his gaze holding neither fear nor excitement, just a coldness that hid something none of us could reach.

He placed his hand.

There was no explosion. No blinding light, nor one so faint it disappointed.

It simply glowed... quietly.

"His talent is... ordinary," said the examiner after a detailed scan, "not rare, but stable. Slow in growth, but precise."

No one spoke a word.

Even Alexis only nodded, as if it didn’t concern him.

He didn’t seem disappointed, nor happy.

And for a moment, I felt he was the only one among us who hadn’t expected anything from the ceremony to begin with.

The following months passed slowly.

I spent my time training, fighting Zeek who never stopped mocking me. I knew I’d lose every time, but I kept coming back to face him, as if I were fighting my own flaws, not Zeek himself.

As for Alexis, he became less present. He no longer dined with us often, and I rarely saw him in the training grounds.

One day, while searching for Carlos in the southern wing of the palace, I saw Alexis sitting by one of the ponds, pouring a blue liquid over a sample of dried grass.

I watched him silently, then approached.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

He didn’t turn, but replied: "Observing how this grass reacts to modified Xenthal poison."

"Poison?"

He smiled without looking at me. "Yes, it wilts in just three seconds. Fascinating, isn’t it?"

I frowned. "Poisoning plants is fascinating?"

He calmly closed the small vial, then tucked another sample into a leather bag beside him. "Not the poisoning itself... but understanding what each element does, and transforming it into something new. Poison can kill—or it can heal. It’s all a matter of ratio."

I didn’t understand much of what he said, but he sounded like someone speaking from another world, one that didn’t resemble our arenas or the ambitions of power or martial arts.

He was... very quiet.

A week later, I entered the library and equipment room by chance, and found the servants talking about "the lord’s fourth son who invented a potion that stops bleeding in just ten seconds," and others whispering about "a new medicine that soothes fever in one day instead of a week."

The name was on everyone’s lips: Alexis.

At first, I thought it was exaggeration.

Until I saw with my own eyes.

Vials lined up on tables, pages written in meticulous handwriting explaining each compound’s composition. Even the senior palace doctors came to visit him for his recipes.

I saw him use tools I had never seen before. He crafted formulas in minutes, tested them on samples, recorded the results, then repeated the process.

Everything seemed organized, precise, as if he had been waiting for this moment since birth.

I realized then that Alexis wasn’t "ordinary."

He was a genius.

But not the type that announces itself.

Rather, the kind that builds its kingdom quietly, piece by piece, without noise.

But something in him... changed.

He no longer smiled much.

Rarely spoke.

Even when I visited or talked with him, his mind seemed elsewhere.

As if he had sunk into a depth he could no longer escape.

One evening, I asked him:

"Why have you changed, Alexis?"

We sat by the window, the candlelight flickering across his face.

He thought for a moment, then said quietly,

"When no one sees you for who you are, you need to create something they can’t ignore."

"But we see you."

He smiled, but his eyes didn’t.

"You see me now... after I started creating something."

"Is that what you want? For everyone to see you?"

He shook his head slowly.

"I just don’t want to be a thread on the margins of a family that sees weakness as a sin."

I left him that night with something strange stirring in my chest.

Alexis had begun to shine.

But brilliance doesn’t always light the heart of the one who holds it.

And I—despite my weakness—had begun to feel like at least I was still searching for myself.

But him... he had found something.

And he had paid the price.

More silence.

Deeper solitude.

And a mind that worked day and night, as if chasing a ghost only he could see.

Months passed, and with each day, I saw Alexis sink deeper into his world.

One night, I walked into his room without knocking. 𝐟𝚛𝕖𝚎𝕨𝗲𝐛𝚗𝐨𝐯𝐞𝕝.𝐜𝗼𝗺

He was sitting by a dim candle, reading from an old medical book. Beside him, a picture of our mother... coated in a thin layer of dust.

He didn’t notice me at first, but when I picked up the photo and brushed it clean with my fingers, he froze.

I asked him, quietly,

"Is this... what drove you to all this?"

He didn’t answer. He just looked at me.

And in that look, I saw something I wasn’t ready for.

Pain.

Regret.

And anger—not at anyone, but at helplessness.

He whispered, more to himself than to me,

"No one understood what happened to her... no spell, no known illness. She just stopped—like something... disabled her."

He paused, then added,

"I think it was a poison. Something strange... unseen, hard to detect. And I... I’ll find its cure."

I stepped closer, placed my hand on his shoulder, feeling the tension in his thin frame beneath my fingers.

"Alexis... you’re not just trying to save others, are you? You’re trying to save her."

He nodded slowly, glassy-eyed.

"I know she won’t come back. But... if I understand what happened, maybe I can save someone else. Another mother."

I didn’t know what to say.

I just stood there, watching my younger brother—the genius everyone once called "ordinary"...

Carving his own path, driven by a love that broke.