"Now go ahead and get ready for dinner," Mother commands, her tone firm yet warm.
I set down my sword and made my way to the entrance of our home. Darius descends the steps, and we exchange glances. Removing my shoes, I enter the dining room, where the mouthwatering aroma of hot vegetable stew fills the air. Father sits at the head of the table, and we all join hands as Mother begins the prayer.
"To the Lord we return to, please grant my family health and prosperity."
As I look around at my family, savoring the moment, I reflect on our strange language—a blend of Germanic tongues. Though I understand and speak it, reading and writing remain beyond my grasp. Father lets out a hearty burp and chuckles, eliciting a disgusted look from Mother, while Darius and I stifle our giggles. After the meal, Darius heads off to practice his mana, and Father retires for a nap. I stay behind with Mother as she clears the table and washes the dishes. I attempt to initiate a conversation, and she eagerly engages.
"So, Mother, why can't I get a mentor to teach me how to use my mana?" I ask.
She pauses, turning to me with a gentle smile. "Because, dear, you aren't ready yet."
I feel a pang of hurt, not blaming her for the deception but resenting the truth I already know. Responsible parents might shield their child from harsh realities to avoid negative consequences. I rise from my seat and approach her, giving her a pleading look.
"Mother, do I not have mana...?"
She crouches down, placing her hands on my shoulders and gazing into my eyes. "Lucius, darling, as I've said before, we all have our strengths. I will always be proud of you, no matter your shortcomings."
She taps my forehead playfully and gently urges me to go to my room since the sun has set. Rushing upstairs, I find Darius proudly showing off his glowing ball of light, smirking at me.
"I bet you can't do this, Lucius!" he taunts.
I cross my arms and scoff. "Whatever. That's not even impressive."
Darius disperses the ball of light, and I collapse onto my bed, my head sinking into the pillow. His worried face appears above me.
"Is something wrong, brother?"
Staring at the ceiling, I fidget with my fingers. "Darius, I can't do magic or anything mana-related."
Silence envelops the room. He pauses, moving closer, and sits beside me. "If you can't do magic, then neither will I."
Surprise washes over me, and I look at him with awe. "You'd do that for me?"
He smiles warmly and ruffles my hair. "I'm not a showoff, you know. Besides," he says, "you're my little brother."
I smile back, and soon I'm drifting into sleep, dreaming of our family staying together forever.
Suddenly, Darius shakes me awake, his face etched with concern. "Wake up, Mother's sick..."
Leaping from bed, I slip into my slippers and hurry to Mother's room. Father kneels by her side, placing a hot cloth on her forehead. "May God ease your pain, Annika," he murmurs softly.
Darius nudges me, whispering urgently, "We need to get herbs for Mother from the market."
We quickly don our brown leather robes and fill our pouches with herbs. The village market is bustling, filled with the clamor of merchants and busy townsfolk.
"My mother's illness sounds like a whooping cough. We need herbs urgently," Darius explains.
A vendor sneezes into his hand, wiping his nose. "5 Veryl for these herbs. They'll cure it right away."
I gape. Five Veryl? That's practically gold! Is this a scam? But wait—Darius is reaching into his pouch. Does he really have that much money? He raises his hand, his expression unreadable.
"This is enough to cover the cost," he states.
The vendor blinks in shock. "15 Veryl? That's over the price, kid. But I'm not complaining." He grins.
Darius cuts him off. "I'll be asking around. If I find out you're ripping me off, I'll inform my father, Arthur Everhart."
The vendor's eyes widen in fear. "You're the son of Arthur...?"
Darius nods, and the vendor hastily revises the price to 5 Horcy, equivalent to 5 silver coins. It's peculiar how this world mirrors ours in some ways—medieval yet advanced in magic. Here, mana dictates status, though immense mana doesn't guarantee high status. Some of Father's family are nobles, but in this age, they'd rather focus on their status and material possessions.
The walk home is quiet. Darius and I don't speak. Father greets us at the door.
"So, you brought herbs for Mother?"
"Yes, Father."
"And how did you manage that?"
I covered for Darius, claiming I found the money in his drawer. Father, to my surprise, smiles warmly instead of scolding me. Darius whispers, "I owe you one, little brother."
"We're twins. You don't have to say that all the time," I reply.
He grins, and we enter the house, removing our shoes. We rush to Mother's room as Father prepares an herb soup. The smell is putrid, and even Darius seems repulsed. Mother's lips chapped, with bits of skin peeling off. I had hoped for advanced medicine, but it seems we're still stuck in what appears to be the mediaeval time period, although I could be wrong. Father headed towards us carrying a small bowl of foul-smelling soup.
"Sit up, Annika, and drink."
Mother sits up and swallows the green, liquid substance. She coughs, then remarks, "It tastes almost as bad as your cooking attempts."
Father and Mother laugh weakly, but soon Mother starts vomiting. Father's face turns to one of deep concern as he rushes out the door. Darius and I stand anxiously by Mother's side, trying to understand what just happened. Mother falls unconscious, and Darius kneels beside her.
"I think she's dying, Lucius. I can feel her pulse slipping away."
Tears stream down his face. I feel a crushing sense of helplessness. This was supposed to be my second chance at life, to protect my family. But now, Mother is dying, and I can do nothing. The old feelings of helplessness surge back. This world, meant to be my perfect reality, feels so unreal now. My brother's desperate gaze pierces me, and I'm paralyzed, unable to act. It feels as though a mute button has been pressed on me.
"Snap out of it, Lucius!" Darius shouts.
I realize I'm supposed to comfort him, but he seems so defeated. What should I do? I can go outside and find Father—he'll know what to do. Yes, I need to rely on him. Or else, I'll be utterly useless.
Suddenly, Darius grabs my hand, his eyes filled with tears. "I'll save Mother. The spells Master Eira taught me should work."
He begins the spell, and I watch in awe as Father rushes into the room with a mysterious figure cloaked in dark fabric. They both stand by, observing Darius's efforts.
"The Lord of the sky, the seas, and the universe, please lend me your power. May you, the almighty, know my obedience. I offer my soul and servitude to you."
To me, it feels as though the gods are bestowing their power, as if mana is an extension of divine creation. The people of this world seem to harness the land's power by reaffirming their devotion to its gods. Mother sleeps for days, and we remain uncertain whether the healing spell has worked. A mystical green light hovers over her, seemingly healing her.
But I've grown skeptical of false realities. If she dies, it's the natural course of life. Darius and even Father seems dismayed by my reaction. I am not their true son; though given a second chance, I struggle to accept my situation. My reincarnation feels unnatural—if it were regular, my memories would be intact, but I seem to have been called to this body.
"You've been pacing around or sitting in silence," Darius says, sitting beside me.
"There's nothing we can do, Darius. We should just let her die."
Fury ignites in his eyes—something I've never seen before. He grips my shirt tightly, glaring at me. "You bastard!"
He shoves me and starts punching me. Each blow lands with a resounding thud. I let him hit me, guilt and sorrow overwhelming me. Was it really what I was thinking? Tears drip down my neck. Darius's anger gradually subsides, and he collapses, sobbing. Father arrives, seeing the bruises on my face, and lifts Darius, his voice thunderous.
"Why would you lay a hand on your brother like that?"
Darius, wiping his tears, retorts, "Because he said Mom should just die!"
Father's face registers shock and anguish. "Is that true, Lucius?"
I can't meet his gaze. The weight of my own words is too much. I tried to walk away, but he grabbed my shirt, turning me around. Tears and snot mingle on my face as I admit, "Yes, it is."
Father storms out, heading to Mother's room. We haven't spoken for days. Mother remains unconscious, and Darius keeps his distance. I struggle with my own pain and the sense of being ostracized. In a fit of rage, I storm into Mother's room.
Father's rage fills the room. "Get out now, boy!"
Darius, hearing the commotion, rushes upstairs. I collapse to my knees, tears flowing uncontrollably.
"You think I don't miss Mom? You think I want to see her like this?"
Darius retorts, "But you're the one who said she should just die."
Summoning my courage, I finally voice my true thoughts. "She's probably in a lot of pain. If you hadn't used that spell, maybe her death would have been quicker. But no, the prodigious son always has to show off. All you are is a good-for-nothing show-off!"
Darius lunges at me, fists flying. I dodge and trip him, his face slamming into the ground, blood streaming from his nose. Father's eyes widen in disbelief.
"Annika, you're alive."
We rushed to her side. It's a miracle. Whatever Darius did, it worked. Mother strokes Darius's hair, noticing his bleeding nose.
"What happened to your nose, dear?" she asks with concern.
Darius laughs it off, saying he hurt it while buying herbs. Its clear Mother has lost track of time. She's been asleep for about five days—five days of torment. But that's behind me now. I hugged Mother tightly, and Father watched from the doorway, his smile a beacon of relief.