"Don't worry, son! I'm here now! You can rest." Daniel whispers. "I'm sorry for not arriving sooner."

  Hearing this, Alf smiles weakly. "I forgive you," he says.

  He slowly shuts his eyes and sinks into the darkness.

  —

  Alf sits in greasy dirt, gripping his knees, shaking—his eyes blank and distant.

  A cover of withered, rotting woods surrounds him.

  "Now... die." The assassin's chilly voice echoes in his ears.

  Alf moves his head shakily, trying to glance behind. A bloodied hand with a knife passes through his vision—the blade cleaves into his back.

  "ARGH!"

  Alf lets out a pained scream, body spasming. He struggles to breathe.

  His hand slaps at his back, clutching the wound. He feels warm blood seeping between his fingers—then snatches his hand away.

  "It's dry." He comments, but the pain still smears across his nerves.

  Alf buries his face in his hands.

  "Why am I in so much pain?" he mutters, tears glistening in his eyes.

  Catherine's face appears—affectionate, staring at him.

  "I love you so much, Alf," she mouths.

  "Maa... Mother... I miss you," Alf sobs, tears streaming down his face.

  "Son," a sweet voice calls, "I'm here."

  Alf is stunned still. His lips part silently.

  "Mother...?" he mumbles, his mouth slightly open.

  He cautiously raises his head and looks up.

  A woman—beautifully adorned, dressed in a glittering green dress—is sitting in front of him.

  Her blue eyes gaze at Alf with a hint of sadness. Her lips are curled up into a genuine smile.

  Alf stares at her, his eyes having regained their radiance.

  "Maa...!"

  He launches himself forward, small arms wrapping desperately around her waist, face buried in the familiar scent of home.

  At that moment, the surroundings shift—the withered, rotten jungle transforms into a lush green forest, brimming with life and radiance.

  Alf is now sitting on a bed of flowers, with butterflies flitting around and birds chirping around him.

  Catherine embraces Alf.

  She caresses his face and lands a kiss on his forehead.

  "I'm so sorry son," she begins with guilt. "I should've come; I'm such a bad mother."

  Alf looks at her and shakes his head.

  "You're here now," he says with joy. "I'm so happy, you didn't abandon me..."

  Cathrine raises her brows and says, "why would I ever abandon you? You're my beloved son."

  "But, I'm so useless! I don't have any ability," Alf comments bitterly, his gaze cast down. "I am aware of how disappointing I was to my father."

  Catherine looks at him with pity, sorrow gleaming in her eyes.

  She shakes her head, "You're not useless and definitely not a disappointment," she says, gripping Alf's small hands. "Both your father and I are so proud of you."

  Alf smiles at her, "I wasn't strong enough. I know father wanted a son that would inherit his position. But, I ended up being a cripple that can't use Ether. I thought you abandoned me because I'm so weak," he says, with teary eyes.

  Catherine pats his head, "You don't need to worry about it anymore," she replies, and signals Alf to rest his head on her lap.

  Alf gladly obliges, resting his head on Catherin's leg. He starts gazing up at the bright sky.

  "Say mother, you won't leave me anymore, right?"

  "Of course not. I won't leave you, I promise."

  "Mother, why are you crying?" Alf asks with a concerned look as he sees the tears streaming down Catherine's face.

  "Ah," Cathrines says and wipes her tears. "Its nothing son," she says with a genuine smile.

  "You are becoming more like your father, stubborn." She chuckles as she teases, playfully pinching his nose.

  Alf sheepishly scratches his chin.

  "But son, I think its time to wake up."

  She comments weakly. "." Her words echo in his ears.

  "Huh...?"

  Alf stares at her, confused. What did she mean by that?

  At that moment, the world around him starts to shake wildly. The surroundings began to crack and crumble, falling—disappearing into a void.

  The groud below Alf breaks away.

  "No...!" He yells and reaches for Catherine with his hands, but he keeps falling deeper, and her form keeps moving further away from his view.

  With a loud splash, his back hits a water body.

  He kicks and grabs at the water in an attempt to keep afloat, but his body continues to sink, deeper and further.

  He grips his throat and chokes in an attempt to prevent water from entering and restricting his airway.

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  He struggles to breathe, his consciousness fading as he tries not to black out.

  "Is this it? Is this the end?" he asks himself, feeling helpless—a cold sensation washing over him.

  Alf jolts up from bed, his eyes wide open as he gasps for air. His breathing is ragged, heart's pounding. His clothing is drenched in cold sweat.

  He darts his eyes around in a state of panic and confusion.

  He is safe, sitting in his bed, at home.

  His gaze lands on a familiar figure staring at him.

  Sister Ophelia stands there, looking at Alf with concern in her eyes.

  "Oh, Alf," she says, with a surprised expression and let's out a relieved sigh. "Thank God! You are finally awake... we were worried you might never wake up."

  The scent of flowers still lingers in the air, but it is just Ophelia's perfume.

  Alf stares at her, with a confused expression, "what am I doing here?And where is mother?", he asks.

  "Mother?" She questions with narrowed eyes. "Oh, you mean Aunt Ellen? She is in the kitchen. Should I call her? She will be relieved to see you finally awake!"

  He shakes his head. "No, I am asking about my Mom, Catherine—isn't she here?"

  Ophelia looks at him questioningly, a little confused. "Ah," she says with a sudden realization. "Lady Catherine never came to visit you... it was probably an illusion—you had while you were unconsious."

  "What do you mean!?"

  He gasps with a perplexed gaze.

  She let's out a sigh and goes on to explain everything to him, from the assassination attempt (which he appears to have forgotten) to the poison's effet. "The assassin's blade, which he used against you, was laced with a psychedelic."

  Afl stares at her, with disbelief. He reaches for his back and his hand claps the bandaged wound. His face twitches as anguish spreads throughout his veins. He smacked his wound a little too hard, which caused him pain.

  "These memories are not a dream?" He asks himself, as the image of the assassin flashes through his mind, his wound still throbbing.

  He clutches the bedsheet, his face displaying intense sadness. "So, that was just a illusion? Mom... she didn't come to visit me...", he mumbles

  "What happened to the assassin?"

  Alf gazes at Ophelia, with distant eyes.

  She approaches him and wraps him in a warm embrace.

  She strokes his hair gently, and replies softly, "you don't need to worry little bro. The assassin in dead."

  Alf looks up at her, frowning. "Did Uncle kill him?", he asks.

  "No," she shakes her head. "He killed himself by swallowing a poison."

  Alf lets out a sigh, his expression a mix of relief and horror.

  "Why was he after me? What did I ever do to make someone go after my life."

  "I don't know," she shakes her head, "but Dad might. I have a feeling this is related to your clan..."

  Alf nods, sqeezing his fists in anticipation. His face now appeares brighter and his eyes radiant—regaining their charm, a sharp contrast to his previous condition.

  Ophelia observes, "He looks a lot better now," as a grin of relief curls her lips.

  The door opens with a loud thud as Daniel rushes in, with a concerned look, darting his eyes around.

  "Son!"

  Daniel's gaze lands on Afl, who is sitting up from his bed.

  He pounces on him, and envelops him in a tight embrace.

  "I am so relieved," he says, his voice heavy with emotion. "I'm unsure of how I would respond to Lady Catherine if you were to remain unconscious."

  Alf's eyes widen as he observes Daniel's relief-filled expression. A smile tugs at his lips, and he chuckles.

  "I'm fine," he says reassuringly. "Thanks to you," he adds, fumbling with his sleeve. "If you hadn't come to save me, I would be dead right now."

  Alf pulls away from Daniel's embrace.

  "Uncle, who was that assassin?" He asks with a flicker of fear in his eyes. "Why did he want to kill me?"

  Daniel's expression darkens a few shades on the mention of the man who had hurt Alf.

  "I don't know," he shakes his head. "He committed suicide before we could question him."

  "But," Daniel says, looking Alf in the eyes, "I have an idea of who sent him after you."

  "Who?"

  Afl asks with aniticipation, taking a nervous gulp.

  "Well, that I can't tell you... its too early for you to know." Daniel replies, in an almost stern tone.

  Alf stares at him blankly. "Why?"

  He continues to pester Daniel regarding the assassin's identity, but he refuses to even give a hint, not uttering a single word.

  "Please?", Alf asks pleadingly.

  Daniel finally snaps at him. "No means no! Even if I tell you, what are you gonna do about it? You are too weak to do anything! For now, you must focus solely on getting stronger. Once you are strong enough, I will tell you everything."

  Daniel continues after a pause.

  "If I tell you right now, you will definitely be a target. I can't put your life in danger. You will come to know everything in due time."

  Alf huffs in frustration, "Alright."

  "Stubborn old man.." He comments inwardly, with a childish pout.

  Daniel chuckles at the sight of Alf's pouting face.

  He gets up from the bed, arms crossed. "Focus on recovering for now," he says. "After your injuries have fully healed, we will start with your training again, and its going to be intense. Be prepared!"

  "Intense? Wasn't it intense before?" Alf questions with a look of dread.

  Daniel doesn't respond and simply starts walking out of the room with light steps, a mad smirk curling his lips.

  Afl feels a chill run down his spine at the sight of Daniel's retreating back

  He lies back on his stomach, his mind racing with the memories of the forest and his interaction with his mother. It all felt so...vivid.

  He didn't know, but he had been lying in his bed for a month now.

  ——

  "Hey, aunty." Alf calls weakly, his eyes heavy and tired.

  "Hmm?" Ellen asks, eyes focused on knitting the sweater.

  "How did Uncle find me? I was pretty deep in the forest."

  Her hands halt. She looks up at Alf, and with a gentle smile, she responds: "He heard your call for help."

  "He heard me screaming from that distance?" Alf asks, skeptical.

  "Of course," she nods with a smile. "Warriors like your uncle can hear the enemy approaching from miles away. It is no big deal, sensing a plea for help a dozen miles away."

  Alf's mouth opens slightly, his eyes shining with with awe. "That's so cool!", he comments.

  Ellen gazes at him with amusement. "Do you want to become strong like Uncle Daniel?"

  "Yes," he nods enthusiastically. "Can I become like him? Even though I can't use Ether the way he does?"

  She gazes at him and pats his head, smiling reassuringly.

  "If you work hard enough, anything is possible. Hardwork is always rewarded," she says.

  Alf warms up to her gentle touch, moved by her words of wisdom. A fire ignites in his heart.

  "I will become strong like Uncle," he vows to himself, his fists clenched, eyes gleaming with determination."I have to be, if I want to live. I must be strong enough to protect myself!"

  A few days later—

  Alf is standing in the yard behind the wooden home.

  He stretches, hops, and warms up his body, anticipating a hard day of training.

  He notices Daniel approaching, and his expression brightens.

  "Uncle!" He jumps up in joy and calls him from a distance.

  Daniel responds with a nod and approaches Alf, standing beside him. He looks him up and down, and breaths a sigh of relief.

  "You have healed brilliantly," Daniel notes with satisfaction. "Almost too quickly."

  Alf glances at him questioningly. "Huh?"

  "Its nothing," Daniel waves him off. "Are you ready?", he asks with anticipation.

  Alf gives an enthusiastic response.

  "I'm ready. Let's start training!"

  Daniel gives a nod of approval, observing Alf's determination.

  "Good," he says contentment, "now repeat all of the exercises you performed on day one. I want to see how much weaker you have gotten, over the past month of lying down."

  Alf nods obediently, and starts repeating all the excises he did on the first day of traning with Daniel.

  He does everything—including the 10 minute run, and walks back to Daneil, huffing and puffing for air.

  He takes a sip from the water bottle and notices the grave expression on Daniel's face.

  "So? How did I perform," he asks, glancing up at Daneil.

  Daniel is gazing at the mud. His expression stern, brows furrowed, and eyes narrow. It looks like somthing is... bothering him?

  "Arg, what's the matter uncle? Did I... do something wrong?"

  Alf asks hesitantly, biting his nail.

  "How can this be possible!?"

  Daniel mutters, his voice trembling.

  To be continued...