Offered to the Triplet Alphas

[Xanthea]

"I didn't expect you to visit me again," said the High lady.

"Why not, High lady?" I asked, preparing the color palette, brushes and blank canvas on the over-bed table for her.

She looked into my eyes and then lowered her gaze.

"Well... because of what happened yesterday with Nyssa," she said.

Maybe I knew what she insinuated. She felt bad for her silence when Nyssa lost her temper. Often, silence spoke volumes. And what I heard in her silence was helplessness against the truth.

"She told the truth, didn't she?" I said, forcing a faint smile onto my face. "And I couldn't help but notice the bond you share with healer Nyssa as though she was already a part of your family. And I can see it clearly how much she loves and cares about you."

"She has been a great support ever since I got this disease and she keeps me updated with what's happening in Raven's life ever since they were in the college, so we got close."

I didn't have to force a smile this time.

As I dipped her brushes in the water, I couldn't help but notice the High lady's gaze flickering with a hint of melancholy. It was as if the bristles of the brush held memories that refused to be painted.

High lady peered at me with curious eyes, then she said.

"What Nyssa said was true indeed, but aren't you angry? Resentful? Don't you hate us?" she asked. "Why are you still helping me? Caring about me? Why spend time with me when you know there is nothing I can do for you? Why get close when... you know it's gonna end up cold?"

"Maybe I am doing all this because I know it won't last long," I chuckled softly.

I handed her the brush.

"And... I don't feel cold near you. You've always felt like warm sunlight ever since we met."

She deftly handled the brush with the skill of a professional.

"And I am not doing this because I want something from you, High lady. I am doing this because it makes me happy. And my mother always used to say knowing the harsh truth is always better than being delusional. It helps us accept our reality. And in circumstances when we can't change our situation, we can always change our mindset. I know I can't change my situation, but trust me, you have helped me become a little stronger mentally. So I am grateful, not resentful..." I said.

High lady took a deep breath. Letting out a lingered sigh, she nodded.

"You have a very kind heart, Xanthea and sadly, this place is not for the kind-hearted. You are in the wrong realm. A heart like yours certainly belongs to the celestial realm, but unfortunately, even after your death, you won't be able to go there."

"You humble me, High lady. But if I went to the celestial realm, I wouldn't have met you or Nesryn."

"You are glad that you met us? Us?" she asked with an astonished look. Pouting, I nodded.

Drawing her brows, she looked at me with disbelief all over her face.

"You are a very strange child. You know that? No mortal has ever been grateful after meeting demons," she said.

"My mother says to always be grateful to the people who make you feel good."

She broke into a graceful laugh.

"Your mother seems to be a very insightful lady."

"She indeed was."

"Was?"

"She died right after my birth," I said.

"Oh? Is that... so?" Confusion lurked on her face and I knew she wondered how I knew what my mother said when she died a long time ago.

I smiled. "She left behind her words for me in her diary and books."

"Oh dear. And you read them and by-hearted them and you apply them in your life? And here kids who have parents don't wanna listen to a word they say. Life must have been difficult for you without her..." I lowered my head, biting my lower lip.

"People say after dying, the souls of the mortals in the earthly realm goes to either the celestial realm or the infernal realm... then could it be that someday I..." I paused, unsure if what I was about to say would make any sense.

"I think I know what you wish to ask for, but I am sorry, sweetheart. What happens to the soul after a mortal's death is highly confidential, even for us immortals. They enter the creator's life-death-salvation cycle. We can't keep track of souls that haven't been contracted to us, so we have no way of knowing where your mother's soul is. And your mother died decades ago, so maybe she has already reached salvation, uniting with the creator and exiting from the life and death cycle." "Oh..." I wilted. "That's a good thing, right? Salvation? My mother would be happy, right?"

"I am sure she is the happiest and luckiest mother to have you as her daughter."

I chuckled slightly. "I am... happy for her." I said with a quick gulp.

"Your words and your emotions don't match Xanthea. Often it is better to acknowledge what you feel, however dark your emotions may seem. Accepting reality, like your mother said."

Puckering my face, I tried hard to hold back my tears, but couldn't. They reappeared as quickly as I wiped them off.

"I thought... maybe I could meet my mother's soul after I die." My voice cracked. "I know it was a silly hope..."

"A silly hope is also a hope. And it hurts when the hope breaks. Sweety, I feel terrible that I might have unknowingly broken that very meaningful hope of yours. I truly am sorry," she reached out and caressed away my tears with her fingers.

00000

I shook my head.

"Your soul is contracted to my sons, so even after you die, they'll keep a track of you and contracted souls rarely reach salvation, so..."

"Right. The soul pact, they already own my soul," I mumbled to myself, scrubbing my tears off my face.

We sat in silence and she gave me space to relax and make amends with my feelings. Only once I was a lot calmer did the High lady speak again. "Umm... maybe I think I know what I wish to paint. Do you have your mother's photo?" High lady asked.

"I had an old portrait of my mother, but it was burned down," I said.

"Do you remember what she looked like? Can you describe her features to me? I'll try to paint her," High lady said.

"Really?" My mood brightened up in an instant.

"Yes. Now tell me what she was like..."

"Beautiful. She was very beautiful," my excited chuckle made the High lady smile a little.

"No doubt she was. Just look at you," she said warmly, gazing at me.

Blushing slightly, I held back my smile.

"You might not know this, but I used to be a prolific painter. What started off as a hobby became my profession and my wolf's power," she said. "Wolf's power? Like the demonic ability of your wolf?" I tilted my head. "Like Mavka can sense when I need her, and she always comes when I do." Mavka flinched while trying to disappear into the background.

"Yes. Like hers. My wolf's ability was to blur lines between reality and my portraits. It was a highly unreliable ability because not everything we imagine can come to reality. There was a point where I had lost my reality to my art and my art was just my illusion. Eventually, my wolf lost the ability to this disease, and I lost the will to wield a brush. But, since you handed me a brush today, I wish to create something for you. It might not be real, but the art will always exist in your reality. Just describe your mother's features to me accurately, ok?"

I nodded, smiling with my entire face.

"My mother had blonde hair just like mine, a heart-shaped face, sharp features, long eyelashes, greenish blue eyes, thin lips... oh! And a mole right at the corner of her right eye... her skin as fair as a swan... oh! And her nose..." The next few hours with the High lady were all about my mother. I never really had a chance to talk about my mother before with anyone so passionately, but now that I did talk about her, she felt a bit more alive within me. After a while, the High lady asked me to move away from her bed and sit by the window. My hair flowed in the gentle breeze. She told me not to look at the portrait she was painting until she gave permission. "Smile..." High lady said. "Sweety, imagine your mother is sitting right next to you..."

She said, and I stiffened my body, my smile turning into a confused mess of wrinkles and twisted lips.

"Ok. Ok. Loosen up a little, Xanthea. Ok, tell me how you would smile at me if I was your mother," she said, placing her hand on her chest.

Amidst the waves her words created in my chest, a smile appeared on my face. I couldn't tell if it was the natural smile the High lady wanted or not, but it blanketed me in a serene warmth.

The High lady gaped at me, widening her eyes slightly.

"Wow..." she whispered, contemplating me. "Perfect..."

I posed before her for a few more hours, the strokes of her messy brushes, the mix in her color palette and the intensity of her gaze getting more fervent and frantic. At one point, she was so immersed in creating the portrait that she dropped the brush and began smudging the paint with her fingers, not caring what mess it created all around her and the bed.

Nyssa came to see her in the middle and I thought she'd say something again, but she didn't even glance at me. All she did was check the High lady's reports, give her the medicines and advised her to rest since she had been sitting for a very long time. Even I thought she was overexerting herself, but she refused to take a break.

By evening, she completed the portrait.Exclusive content from NôvelDrama.Org.

"Done... it still needs final touches and framing, but you should see it now..." she said, panting.

I got up.

"Please lie down now, High lady," I said.

"I am fine. Trust me, it's been so long since I felt so alive," she said, peering at the painting with bleary eyes. "Look at this, Xanthea. Look at your mother."

My heartbeat quickened as I cautiously lowered my gaze to the painting. I took a few steps back, gasping as I covered my mouth with my hands. My eyes welled up with awe, but I refused to allow the mist forming in my eyes blur my mother's image.

Taken aback, for a few minutes, I just gazed at the painting, feeling a pleasant paralysis take over my body.

In the painting, I sat on the chair by the window, and my mother stood beside me. Her hand was on my shoulder as a proud smile adored her face.

At that moment, in the daze, the painting had come to life and when the daze broke; I flung my arms around the High lady and hugged her, thanking her with every breaking sob. High lady patted my back.

"There, there. If you keep crying, your tears will ruin the painting." Parting, she made me look at her.

"I really wish I had a better way to thank you than just words..." I sniffled.

"That's not needed, but if you truly wish to thank me with a better word, you can..." she cleared her throat. Only if you wish to and you find it appropriate... you can... call me... mom."