Chapter 112
ADRIAN’S P.O.V.
Her movements were slow, deliberate, as if she carried the weight of something I couldn’t yet understand. Juliette’s grip on my hand tightened as the woman knelt beside my younger self and placed a weathered hand over my chest. Her eyes closed, and a faint whisper escaped her lips—words in a language I didn’t recognize but felt ancient, like the rustling of old pages in a forgotten library.
I watched, my breath hitching, as the incantations seemed to ripple through the air, a soft glow emanating from her hand. Suddenly, young Adrian gasped, his shallow, pained breaths giving way to deep, steady ones. I remembered the exact sensation: the absence of pain, the sudden lightness, and the bewildering realization that I could breathe again without agony.
She stood up, her gaze piercing as she looked down at me. “Tell your parents what has happened here today,” she said, her voice steady but commanding. “Let them know this is a temporary fix. If they want a permanent solution, they must bring you to my home p>
And just like that, she turned and walked away, her figure disappearing into the distance.
Juliette’s eyes were wide as she turned to me. “Did that actually happen? She just… healed you, just like that p>
I nodded, my voice soft but tinged with an old pain. “She did. And at the time, I thought it was nothing short of a miracle p>
As the scene shifted, we found ourselves in the small living room of my family’s home. There I was, recounting the events to my parents with an enthusiasm I hadn’t felt in months. My mother gasped, her hands trembling as she clutched my shoulders, looking me over as if to confirm my words. My father stood with a frown, his brows furrowed in contemplation.
“She touched your chest and just… healed you?” Mother’s voice was incredulous, hope battling fear in her tone.
“Yes! I feel completely fine, Mama. She told me to tell you to visit her for a permanent solution p>
Father’s jaw tightened. “The witch woman?” he said, his voice low and laced with suspicion. “I told you never to mention her again, Phina. Her ways are dangerous p>
“But what choice do we have?” Mother whispered, her voice breaking. “She helped him, Alex. We can’t just ignore this p>
Juliette and I stood watching the scene unfold, her hand still warm in mine. “They must have been terrified,” she murmured, her voice soft.
I nodded, my lips pressed into a thin line. “Terrified doesn’t begin to cover it p>
The scene shifted again, and we were back in my bedroom. Around a week later after the witch healed me, I laid in bed, visibly worse than ever before. My breathing was labored, my skin pale and clammy. This time, the shadows under my eyes seemed darker, my body frail as if it were giving up entirely.
Father moved quickly, lifting my limp body and carrying me on his back. His strength and determination were unmatched as he ran through the night, Mother following close behind, her sobs muffled by her hand.
Juliette’s fingers intertwined tighter with mine as we followed them through the dark forest, the desperation in their voices piercing through the stillness. When they reached the woman’s home, they banged on the wooden door with an urgency that spoke volumes.
“Please,” Mother cried. “Help our son. He’s dying. Please p>
The old woman stepped out of the house like a ghost, her eyes glinting under the pale moonlight. She was tall and thin, her hair a wild cascade of gray, and her presence carried an unsettling energy that froze my father mid-step. I watched, clinging weakly to my father’s back, my vision swimming, my breaths shallow.
“Help us,” my mother, pleaded again, her voice breaking. She fell to her knees, clutching the edge of the woman’s tattered robe. “Please, save my son p>
The woman tilted her head, studying me with sharp, penetrating eyes. “You’ve brought him here willingly,” she said, her voice both harsh and melodic. “Have you been followed p>
“No,” my father answered firmly, his jaw tight. “We came alone. Please, he’s dying p>
The woman stepped closer and took me from my father’s trembling arms. Her hands were surprisingly warm, almost comforting, as she cradled me against her bony frame. I tried to focus on her face, but my eyelids felt unbearably heavy.
“His time is almost up,” she said gravely, her voice a low murmur. “What I do now cannot be undone. Are you certain you are ready to pay the price p>
My parents exchanged a desperate glance. “We’ll do anything,” my father said, his voice resolute.
The woman nodded. “Very well.” She reached into her robe and pulled out a small pouch. Before my parents could react, she blew a fine white powder into their faces. They gasped, stumbling back, their eyes wide and unfocused.
“What—what is this?” my mother stammered, her hands clutching at her throat.
The woman’s lips curved into a sad, almost regretful smile. “This is the price you pay for being too trusting,” she said softly. Her voice dropped, taking on a sing-song cadence as she began chanting words in a language I couldn’t understand. My parents froze, their bodies rigid as the incantation wrapped around them like a noose.
When the chanting stopped, she placed her hand over my father’s heart, then my mother’s. “From this moment on, you will have no son named Adrian,” she declared. “His name, his face, his existence—gone from your memories. Anyone you meet will forget him too, should they ask. This boy is no longer of this world p>
“No!” I wanted to scream, but my voice wouldn’t come. My body felt like lead. The betrayal, the fear, the confusion—it was too much. My parents looked at me one last time, their eyes blank, unseeing. And then, just like that, they turned and walked away.
The woman carried me back into her house, shutting the door against the cold night. The darkness swallowed me whole.
The living room scene shimmered away, and I blinked, realizing I was back in the present with Juliette. Her hand was still in mine, warm and steady, grounding me. I glanced at her, expecting horror or pity, but her face was unreadable.
She finally spoke, her voice trembling with restrained emotion. “She… she erased you from their lives p>
I nodded, the old bitterness resurfacing in my chest. “She did. And that was only the beginning.” Juliette’s grip on my hand tightened. “Adrian, I… I don’t even know what to say. That’s… cruel doesn’t even begin to cover it p>
Her outrage lit a spark of warmth in my chest. Despite everything, she was here, and she cared. “It was the beginning of a dark and unforgettable story,” I said softly. “But I didn’t know it then. All I knew was that my family was gone p>
Juliette’s lips pressed into a thin line, and her eyes glimmered with unshed tears. “I would’ve burned that woman’s house down p>
A surprised laugh escaped me, breaking the tension. “I’m sure you would have, my fierce mate p>
She gave me a watery smile, though her eyes were still stormy. “I’m serious. You didn’t deserve that p>
“No,” I agreed, my voice steady now. “But it made me who I am. And I wouldn’t trade that, because it brought me here. To you p>
Juliette snorted, wiping at her eyes. “You always know how to make any situation sound romantic, don’t you p>
“It’s a gift,” I said, smirking. But my tone softened as I added, “And it’s the truth p>
“So, after your parents left, what happened next?” Juliette asked softly, her amber brown eyes held mine with both fear and anticipation.
To be continued p>