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Chapter 57 Desillusion

Elian, of course, was referring to the nobles. After all, who else could it be? He'd always harbored a deep aversion to their inflated self-importance, their belief in a supposed superior lineage based solely on social standing.

Though his own Thorne family held considerable influence, comparable to Count families or even Dukes, their main power, the Thorne army, resided outside the kingdom, guarding its southern borders. Despite this, Elian never felt superior to anyone. He understood that family circumstances, like gender and size, were mere matters of chance. This understanding fueled his disdain for nobles who readily flaunted their status, even in their every word.

Unfortunately, before the age of five, he was forced to interact and converse with noble scions. Diplomacy and trade demanded cooperation between the Thornes and the nobility, a mutually beneficial yet distasteful relationship.

Elian endured these interactions, barely tolerating their incessant boasting. Some couldn't even mask their disdain for him, a "commoner," in their words. How could they harbor such contempt at such a young age? Only nobles could explain that.

He spent the past few years blissfully isolated from them, free from their senseless arrogance. The break was so long, he had truly forgotten how repulsive and hateful they could be. But the documents he'd just read served as a stark reminder.

Elian continued reading, and with each passing moment, his anger and rage intensified. Normally he should have been able to read all these in a matter of seconds but this time, he deliberately read slowly and meticulously, ensuring he grasped every word.

The more he understood, the deeper his anger festered. With each line, his rage intensified, culminating in the involuntary manifestation of small arcs of lightning crackling around him, nearly igniting the papers. Only then did Elian realize his agitation and manage to calm his outward expression. However, the simmering anger remained a heavy knot in his gut.

"Why didn't you act?" Elian's voice trembled as he questioned Julia, his fists clenched tightly, knuckles turning white. His eyes, filled with a mix of grief and rage, bore into her, silently demanding answers. "This could have been stopped before it escalated. Why didn't you intervene?" His voice wavered at the end, a tear threatening to betray the turmoil within him. He couldn't escape the gnawing guilt that he, somehow, was complicit.

Julia's steely gaze remained fixed on him "With what authority?" she replied calmly. "A General widow's voice holds no power in the military."

Elian, well-versed in the workings of the army, knew she spoke the truth. But that wasn't his point. "I'm not speaking of official channels," he pleaded, his voice trembling. "Your power, mom, your...demonstration earlier proves you could subdue anyone in this kingdom. Why then, did you not intervene? Why let these massacres continue?"

Julia fell silent, her face an unreadable mask. Elian, familiar with his mother's ways, knew this meant he had crossed a line. She guarded her secrets fiercely, and he had always respected her boundaries. But this time, his desperation outweighed his deference.

"Are your secrets more important than people's lives?" he pressed, his voice cracking with a mix of grief and rage. "How far are you willing to go to protect them? Or do you simply not care? Do you...even care about anyone anymore? Did you even love fath..."

His words abruptly died in his throat. PA paralysis gripped him, his limbs frozen, his tongue heavy with unspoken accusations.

"Watch your tone, boy," Julia's voice was low and dangerous, her eyes blazing with fury. "Your anger doesn't give you the right to spew such disrespect. You needed to vent, but you chose the wrong target. And never, ever dare question my love for your father. The next time you cross this line, the consequences will be far more than a warning. Is that understood?"

Elian remained silent, his body still locked in paralysis. Despite his physical incapacitation, his mind had long since retreated from the storm of rage, leaving a stark awareness of his transgression. He understood, with a chilling clarity, that his mother had subdued him with a subtle manipulation of lightning, selectively targeting his synapses to induce a forced calm. It was a testament to her uncanny control, a power both awe-inspiring and terrifying.

Even more unsettling was the certainty that she had allowed him to perceive her intervention as she could have easily acted stealthily,

"AM I CLEAR?" Julia's voice thundered through the room, jarring him from his thoughts.

Elian's eyes flickered in response, the only movement he could muster. His mind screamed a silent retort: 'I'm still paralyzed. How can I possibly answer?'

As if sensing his unspoken plea, Julia softened slightly. "Ah, right. I almost forgot how fragile you still are."

Slowly, sensation returned, Elian regaining control over his trembling limbs. He opened his mouth to apologize, but Julia cut him off.

"No need. This outburst is understandable, a first taste of real anger. I won't hold it against you. But disrespect? That, I will not tolerate. However, beyond that, you are free to do as you please."

Elian bowed his head, momentarily feeling a flicker of relief wrestle with the lingering disappointment weighing heavy on his heart. "Thank you, Mom," he said softly. "But I still need to understand why you didn't intervene."

Despite his calmer state, the question gnawed at him. He needed to know if his mother was truly so cold-blooded, so indifferent to the suffering of their own people.

Julia met Elian's gaze, and in his eyes, the doubt and questioning were unmistakable. He desperately hoped his suspicions were wrong, that his mother wasn't this "bad." But unfortunately, reality was harsh.

"I'm not your father, Elian," she said, her voice cold and distant. "I loved that man deeply, and respected his ideals. But I never adopted them as my own." Her eyes flickered before she continued, her voice devoid of warmth. "I don't claim to enjoy seeing 'our' people suffer, but I won't bend over backwards to help them either."

"..." Silenced by the weight of realization, Elian grappled for a response, suddenly aware that his perceptions might have been a long-held illusion. No words surfaced to contest the truth he was beginning to acknowledge.

His mother rarely engaged in conversations about herself. She often remained cloistered at home, veiling her personality from him. Elian's perception of her had always been confined to the nurturing, motherly figure she projected. He had held her in high regard, idolizing her as the epitome of kindness. However, the shattered illusion revealed a stark truth. Elian felt a profound sense of disillusionment.

The woman he thought he knew had hidden depths, concealing her true thoughts and beliefs. Her reclusive nature shielded her intentions, leaving Elian with a hollow realization. The warmth he associated with her was a facade, masking a reality he had been blind to. It left him disheartened, grappling with the painful understanding that his perception of her was far from reality.

Edited by MoonsterDark.