As the sun began to set, the young man was walking toward his home. He could feel the pitying stares of everyone he passed. He was alone, as he always was.
He hated this feeling of being an outcast, though he had a fair guess as to why. Yet, whenever he asked his mother for the truth, he received nothing but the same answer: "When the time is right."
Their home was in a small neighborhood, a bit far from the city center. He reached the house and opened the door, finding his mother with tear-stained eyes and a flushed face. She was holding a polu in her hands.
Polu is a kind of dessert made of various fruits and milk. It is served in a bowl-shaped fruit rind and decorated with edible seeds that spell out the person's age. It is traditionally eaten on birthdays.
"Happy birthday, Khaia."
His mother hadn't forgotten. But if Khaia's suspicions were correct, he knew this would be his last birthday. His mother's fragile state only strengthened that grim thought.
He had no energy left after his training. Exhausted, he spoke in a low voice:
"Thanks, mother."
He couldn't look at her the same way anymore. No matter how much he loved her, the grueling training she forced him through had driven a wedge between them. They sat at the table and ate the polu in silence.
Finally, Khaia asked:
"Mother... am I a half-breed?"
She looked startled, but her son was brilliant; she knew he could have deduced this from the history books he read.
"So, you've figured it out. Knowing this... do you hate me?"
Khaia closed his eyes for a moment before speaking:
"I have no reason to hate you. But I wonder where my father is. And I wonder why you force me through these lessons despite the fact that I am dying—despite the pain. Since I am a half-breed, both bloodlines flow through my veins, and I know that trying to use the Sap (Öz) like this only hastens my death. I assume you know this too. I just hope there is a reason for it all. I don't hate you, because I believe in you. I believe there is a purpose behind all of this."
Seeing her son so mature and sharp, the mother was taken aback. He was just like his father. She realized she hadn't truly known her own son.
"I am truly happy to have a son like you, and I am sorry for not being a better mother. I don't think I can explain everything to you right now. The reason is... personal. But don't worry, you will get your answers. I'm just glad you don't truly hate me. There is a letter and a necklace in the box on the table. It's your birthday gift. I hope you like it. That's enough for today."
She stood up and headed for the stairs. She looked drained. She didn't want to say goodbye to her son like this, but it had to be this way; she had no time left to explain.
"What! Are you really leaving without saying anything?"
"Mother!"
"Mother!"
She didn't answer. No matter how much Khaia wanted to stop her, he noticed her condition and couldn't bring himself to follow her. She looked devastated—her face was pale, her voice was weak, and she could barely walk. How had he not noticed sooner? He sat back down, cursing himself.
"I was too focused on myself. When I told her I was a half-breed, I didn't even notice the state she was in. I'm an idiot."
His mother had gone upstairs; she was out of reach now. Khaia took the box from the table and went to his room.
Inside, just as she had said, was a necklace and an envelope. There was also a photograph. First, he took the necklace.
In the center of the necklace was something resembling a gemstone, reminiscent of the magical talismans he had seen in books. There was a transparent casing around the gem, filled with a liquid that looked like blood. However, the left and right sections were separated.
He looked at the envelope. It said: Open after putting on the necklace. Without thinking much, he put it on.
The moment the necklace touched his chest, a sharp pain flared up. The necklace fused to his skin. He tried to pull it off, but it wouldn't budge. He struggled in a panic, but it only caused him more pain, so he had to stop.
The veins around where the necklace sat became visible; he began to feel terrified. He could feel his blood being drawn toward the necklace. It all happened in a heartbeat.
He picked up the envelope. Suddenly, it snapped open on its own—it hadn't done that before. He figured it was connected to the necklace. Inside was a small notebook, a strange piece of black cloth, and a note.
Khaia began to read:
"Khaia, if you are reading this, you must be fifteen years old and have received the necklace. I'm sure you wonder why you were born and why I left you both. You had to be born. I explained everything in the notebook—why I left, what I did, and the reasons behind your mother's behavior. Don't worry, you won't die. But from now on, you will be on your own. Be strong.
Your Father"
Khaia was stunned. What did he mean, he wouldn't die? It was supposed to be impossible for half-breeds to survive. Their mixed blood prevented them from using the Sap, and the Sap eventually caused an early death. Avoiding it was impossible; the Sap was everywhere. Even if he didn't die, living in this world without being able to use it was unthinkable.
I have to read the notebook, he thought, but then a realization hit him. The note said he would be on his own. But his mother was right there.
He ran upstairs. His mother's door was closed and locked. He pounded on the door.
"Mother! Mother!"
No sound came from inside. He hit the door again and again.
"Mother, please! I don't hate you. I love you!"
"I hope nothing happened... please, let her be okay."
He decided to break the door down. Using all his strength, he kicked it; thanks to his training, he was physically very strong.
The wood behind the door splintered, and the door swung open. She was lying there. I hope she's just sleeping, he whispered to himself as he approached her.
He froze in horror. His mother lay there with a faint smile, covered in blood.
Khaia forced himself to move and pressed his head against her chest. There was no heartbeat.
He couldn't lift his head for a long time. He wept and waited in the silence. Finally, he struggled to his feet and kissed her forehead one last time. Looking at her, he realized it looked very much like a Sap-death. Certain veins had bulged and burst. But his mother wasn't a half-breed; she was a capable Sap user.
He buried her in the garden and prayed the way she had taught him. He was truly alone now. His father had known. He thought he would find the reason for her death in the notebook, but he couldn't bring himself to read it yet.
He lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling all night, unable to sleep. He needed time to process this.
A week passed before he finally picked up the notebook.
He read the first sentence. The book slipped from his hands. He was frozen.
"..."