My Family in the Novel?

As Isabella settled into the chair, her gaze nervously locked onto me before she cautiously took a seat on the bed.

I proceeded to inscribe a protective rune on my door, ensuring our conversation remained private. Grabbing a spare chair, I placed it in my corridor, positioning it to face her.

As we both took our seats, our eyes were now in direct alignment.

"What did you want to talk about…?" she inquired, her tone betraying a hint of anxiety.

Despite my prior assurances that my intent was simply to ask questions, her nervous demeanor suggested a reluctance to reveal the truth.

Anticipating potential evasiveness, I decided to cut to the chase; there was no point in skirting around the issue.

I slowly removed the blindfold that obscured her vision, and though she seemed to twitch in response, she managed to maintain her composure.

As the black fabric slipped away, her captivating eyes were exposed. Although the light of sight had departed, the pink hue emanating from them conveyed a sense of life and vitality.

Observing her eyes, a subtle nervousness crept over me.

Despite her blindness, it was evident she wasn't exactly fixating on my face, yet her heightened perception allowed her to adjust, attempting to align her gaze with mine.

"Isabella, what exactly can those eyes of yours see?" I asked.

She twitched as she looked at me.

From the very moment I removed her blindfold and made contact with those eyes of hers, I sensed that something was amiss.

Her divinity of love had evidently caused a change in her eye color, and direct eye contact seemed to fully activate her charm powers.

However, there was an additional element in those eyes that left one feeling exposed.

This suspicion gained further validation back in the temple when her attempts to charm me failed. She claimed to have seen my mother.

The connection ran deep within my soul, to a degree that only deities and beings of a divine level should be able to perceive. Yet, here was Isabella, a mere mortal, who somehow managed to witness it.

I couldn't fathom the precise mechanism that allowed her completely blind eyes to achieve such a feat—to witness my connection with my mother and emerge unscathed. This unexpected revelation left me intrigued and wary.

Isabella, though not an entirely new encounter for me, presented a unique challenge. In the past, others who could perceive my connection with my mother met a grim fate—they all perished.

'They died'

This realization heightened my curiosity and wariness, making the impending conversation with Isabella all the more crucial.

This was one of the reasons as to why I was quite lenient with my punishment for her… clearly there was something more to her than meets the eye.

As we sat facing each other, the atmosphere in the room shifted. With the black blindfold removed, Isabella's eyes revealed an otherworldly pink hue.

It was a mesmerizing sight, especially considering her lack of sight.

The depth in her gaze hinted at something far beyond the physical realm, a quality that defied explanation.

Those who had gazed upon my mother had their souls sucked dry, minds broken - that was the toll of witnessing a being so divine that even gods questioned their own existence.

My mother existed outside the known boundaries of godhood, dwelling in realms beyond the comprehension of mortal minds.

Isabella, however, sat before me, seemingly unharmed. It was a perplexing contradiction. My mother's mere presence was enough to shatter minds, yet Isabella appeared alive and well.

The thought nagged at me, challenging the very essence of what I knew about the nature of such encounters.

My mother, a being that transcended gods, made them question their own divinity. She existed beyond the confines of the cosmos, a force to be reckoned with.

The idea that she could be faced directly by a mortal, even one designated as an apostle, was confounding.

Yes, Apostles and blessed ones were granted some degree of resilience especially if they were loved by their gods, but the underlying mortal essence remained unchanged.

Even if Isabella was an apostle, the fact remained - she was mortal.

I couldn't shake the conviction that my own connection to my mother played a role in her resilience. The very act of perceiving my mother's presence had the potential to be lethal for anyone, myself included.

If I didn't have a single form of connection to mother.

'My mind would practically implode, unable to contain the overwhelming force that was my mother'

Yet, as I observed Isabella, it became apparent that she wasn't just surviving the encounter; she was somehow seeing beyond the limits of normal perception.

Her gaze, though not directed at me, penetrated deep within, as if she glimpsed something hidden within the recesses of my being.

Anticipation hung in the air as I awaited Isabella's response. It was clear that she remained uneasy about the unfolding conversation, her nerves palpable.

She pondered my question, and though I sensed her understanding, a certain tension lingered in the room.

Staring directly into her eyes, I noticed a peculiar occurrence. Amidst her dazed expression, something peculiar unfolded.

The vibrant pink hues that had initially captivated me began to fade, dissipating with each passing moment, revealing the natural color of her eyes – a soft shade of brown.

'What's going on?'

Had the goddess of love rescinded her blessing? What could possibly explain this sudden change?

A surreal transformation transpired before my eyes. The whites of her eyes turned an inky black, while delicate veins glowed with an ethereal purple.

A startled thump echoed in my chest as a realization dawned upon me – could it be?

In an instant, Isabella's demeanor shifted.

The nervousness that had etched her face transformed into warmth, and an indescribable sensation enveloped me.

Before I could comprehend what was happening, I found myself wrapped in a tight embrace.

The physical form might have been different, but the familiarity of the embrace, the warmth, and the gentleness were unmistakable – a privilege reserved only for me.

"I missed you, Ian," a voice, though different, echoed the sentiment. The realization hit me like a tidal wave, and a single word escaped my lips in disbelief.

"Mother…?"

…..

As the saintess started walking away, Isabella felt a wave of relief washing over her. The current situation wasn't ideal for initiating a conversation.

The pain coursing through her body, coupled with the overwhelming guilt, shame, and embarrassment in the hero's presence, made every moment unbearable.

All she wanted was to escape this situation immediately.

After whatever had transpired between her and the hero in his bed, she couldn't shake the feeling that he harbored a deep resentment towards her.

The reasons behind his animosity remained a mystery, but the physical pain she felt served as a tangible manifestation of his displeasure.

The heavy weight of his disapproval made it difficult to even consider attempting a meaningful conversation.

As the saintess took her leave, the hero followed closely behind. There was a fleeting sense of relief at the prospect of escaping the immediate tension.

However, as he passed by, his hands brushed against hers, sending an unexpected jolt through Isabella's body. In that moment, words seemed to seep into her mind, clear and unmistakable: "Come to my room later."

Though the hero's lips remained sealed, the message was delivered directly to her consciousness.

The realization hit Isabella like a bolt of lightning – telepathy?

Could the hero truly possess such a magical ability?

As she grappled with this newfound revelation, she found herself nodding slowly in response, silently acknowledging the unspoken invitation.

The hero, seemingly satisfied with her compliance, continued on his path, following the saintess into the distance.

….

Arriving at the hero's room, Isabella felt a wave of nervousness washing over her.

Despite having healed herself after their recent encounter, a lingering sense of dread and tension remained.

She knew that she had committed an act that was undeniably unforgivable in the hero's eyes.

As she stood outside the door, Isabella couldn't help but wonder about the hero's thoughts.

What was he deciding to do with her? Grateful that the matter hadn't been brought up to the pope or expanded upon, she couldn't shake the feeling that consequences loomed on the horizon.

It was unlikely that an apostle would go unpunished after attempting to harm the hero.

Her actions were a tangled web of transgressions.

Not only had she tried to inflict harm, but she had also attempted to charm and mind control him, all driven by a goal she was so blindly committed to that even she couldn't fathom its true nature.

It all stemmed from one fleeting glimpse of the being residing within Adrian.

There was an inexplicable sense of temptation, a desire to witness that mysterious entity once again….

Taking a deep breath, Isabella hesitated before knocking on the hero's door. The weight of her own actions pressed heavily on her conscience as she waited for a response, uncertain about what awaited her on the other side.

Looking to the side, Isabella sensed the presence of the saintess in the room next door. A cautious awareness settled within her; she couldn't risk using her own divinity for self-defense, fearing the saintess's immediate notice.

The room seemed to hold secrets, and even if a dire situation arose, deploying her divinity would likely prove futile with Lady Louise nearby.

Sensing the jovial atmosphere emanating from the adjacent room, Isabella resolved to keep a low profile and avoid attracting any unnecessary attention.

To navigate this delicate situation, Isabella gradually loosened the divine energy surrounding her, compressing it as tightly as possible without compromising her abilities.

The need for discretion weighed heavily on her, and she made sure to tread lightly, blending into the shadows of the hallway.

Knocking twice on the hero's door, she strained to hear any response from within. To her surprise, the door swung open on its own accord, inviting her into the room.

Stepping inside, her spiritual perception immediately identified the person awaiting her – the hero.

The familiar white and black canvas unfolded before her eyes, revealing the depths of the hero's essence.

Despite the unpleasant incident during their last encounter, an unexpected sensation enveloped Isabella. There was a strange yearning, a longing for that profound darkness that resided within the hero.

The inky depths seemed to beckon her, and, for some reason, she found herself missing it.

The darkness embraced her differently this time, distinct from the chilling experience she had felt before.

As she stood in the hero's room, a complex mix of emotions surged within Isabella.

With each passing second, Isabella could feel her heart pounding stronger, its rhythmic beats echoing in her ears.

The proximity to the hero seemed to intensify the sensation, a palpable force that she couldn't ignore.

Despite the distracting thump in her chest, she pushed aside her musings, keenly aware of the hero's intense gaze fixated on her.

"I-I came," she stammered nervously, her words barely audible over the drumming of her heart.

The hero gestured for her to enter, and as she stepped into the room, he spoke with a simple acknowledgment, "Good job."

"Take a seat; don't worry, I just wish to talk," the hero reassured her, his tone calm and measured. Isabella nodded, understanding the invitation.

As she sought the nearest place to sit, her cane tapped against the floor, guiding her towards the bed.

The aura she sensed closest was there, and so she chose that spot to settle in.

The nervous anticipation within her grew as she waited for the hero to begin their conversation.

Her body seemed to heat up, and her voice betrayed signs of stuttering.

For reasons unbeknownst to her, her heart continued to race, each beat echoing a heightened sense of anticipation.

Whatever the hero wished to talk about, Isabella was prepared to answer honestly.

After all, she carried a debt for everything she had done to him, and in this moment, she was determined to be truthful, willing to face the consequences of her actions.

As the hero suddenly reached out to remove her blindfold, Isabella, though nervous, offered no resistance. Curiosity overcame her apprehension, and she allowed the unveiling to unfold before her eyes.

Little did she know that this simple act would mark the first mistake of the night.

The moment her bare eyes met Adrian's, an overwhelming transformation swept over her. Darkness enveloped everything, casting a heavy and suffocating atmosphere.

It was as if she had been transported back to a place she inexplicably longed for, yet the reasons remained elusive.

Her head hung low, her gaze fixed on the floor, and her body knelt in submission.

Despite the limited visibility, the familiarity of the surroundings became apparent – a warmth she recognized, an embrace she sought, and a love she yearned for.

"#####!###@###"

Amidst the indiscernible murmurs of gibberish, there was a strange beauty to the nonsensical words that reached Isabella's ears.

Attempting to lift her head, an unseen force compelled her to look down once more.

She knew, even with the brief glimpse of sight, that before her stood a beautiful woman – the very person she sought inside of Adrian.

The warmth she felt resonated with an inexplicable connection, as if she had returned to a place embedded in the depths of her consciousness.

Then suddenly she felt a warm hug…. And everything became silent.

"…...Mommy?" Isabella muttered…. As she looked up her mother's gentle face was there.

"Sleep for now my dear Isabella…."

Darkness wrapped around her.

Her body was dragged into a sea of darkness pale hands carrying her with a gentle embrace.

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