Celestial Emperor of Shadow

Voices of the Heart

"Anna. Wait." Ben's voice cut through the tense quiet like a sharp blade.

She exhaled sharply, irritation flaring in her amber eyes as she turned her head toward him. For a heartbeat, her gaze locked on his, and something unspoken passed between them—years of shared history, stubborn pride, and mutual love compressed into a single glance.

Victor watched, his purple eyes narrowing slightly, sensing the electric tension curling through the room. Every flicker of their expressions, every twitch of muscle, drew him in. He had seen his parents argue before, but this—this was different. It was raw, urgent, almost desperate.

The moment her eyes met Ben's, Anna froze. Her body stiffened, her hands curling slightly at her sides. Ben's blue eyes, normally calm and steady, were hard now—an unwavering, grounded seriousness he rarely showed. There was no softness in them, no room for negotiation. The weight they carried pressed down on the air, a tangible force that made the room feel smaller, closer, hotter.

"Anna," he said again, steady, unyielding, the deep timbre of his voice resonating through the space like a quiet drumbeat. "I'm asking you—do you not think it's fair to tell our son why you're stopping him? He deserves the truth."

Anna's chest rose and fell sharply, a subtle tremor betraying the tension she tried to mask. Her lips parted, then pressed together. Her sharp exhale seemed to fill the room, and she shook her head, almost imperceptibly.

"No," she said finally, her voice tight. "He doesn't need it. We already give him a good life. He has everything he needs. And if he wants to cultivate, he can cultivate here. He doesn't need… this competition. He doesn't need to chase after some… power system he doesn't fully understand."

Victor's chest tightened. Each word felt like a pinprick against his ribs, a quiet pressure he hadn't expected to feel so sharply. His father's voice was steady, commanding, yet tinged with that restrained exasperation Ben had always carried. His mother's resistance, her insistence on sheltering him, felt like chains closing in from all sides.

Ben sighed deeply, leaning back slightly, one hand brushing through his hair, eyes narrowing in frustration. "Anna… our son isn't a child anymore. He understands more than you give him credit for. You can't just shield him from everything because it's 'too dangerous' or 'unnecessary.'"

Anna's jaw tightened. "Ben, he's safe here! He has everything he needs. Why should we risk—"

"Risk?" Ben's voice rose just slightly, the hint of a growl beneath his words. "Do you not see, Anna? Shielding him, hiding the truth—it does not protect him! It only keeps him from growing. From understanding the weight of the world and his place in it! He is capable, Anna! You know he is!"

Victor felt a sharp twist of emotion coil in his chest—excitement, fear, longing, and frustration all at once. He wanted to leap forward, to say something, to break the tension with his own voice, but he stayed rooted, watching. His mother's hands were clenched at her sides, knuckles white. Her eyes shone with emotion, and yet her lips remained stubbornly pressed together. She was trying to maintain control, but the lines of worry around her eyes betrayed her.

Victor's voice finally broke the silence, low and steady, almost a whisper but sharp enough to demand attention. "Enough. Both of you… please. Enough."

The room froze. Anna's mouth twitched, ready to argue, but Victor's tone carried something inescapable. It was calm, but the weight of it pressed against their wills. Ben blinked, startled by the intensity in his son's gaze, and even Anna faltered, the sharpness of her argument blunted by the sudden focus in Victor's purple eyes.

He stepped forward, hands loosely at his sides, voice low and deliberate. "Please… can you both speak in a language I understand? I'm not blind. I hear everything, I feel everything. I see the concern in your eyes. But stop hiding it from me."

Ben exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction. His jaw loosened, and the corner of his mouth twitched, a trace of reluctant respect for his son's authority—soft, yet undeniable.

Anna's gaze met Victor's, and for a brief moment, the stubbornness faded, replaced by uncertainty. Victor's eyes were steady now, unflinching. He wasn't angry, not exactly—more… determined. He searched his mother's face, reading the emotions she tried to conceal: love, fear, pride, and a quiet despair.

"Mother," he said, his voice breaking slightly under the weight of his emotion, "can you… can you tell me why? Or do you not trust me enough? Do you not believe in my ability to handle… whatever you might hide from me? Do you think I cannot understand the dangers? Or… do you simply not trust me at all?"

The words hung in the room, heavy as the early morning sunlight spilling through the windows. Victor's chest ached. His pulse thundered in his ears. His hands clenched slightly, as if willing his mother to meet his gaze, to answer honestly.

Anna's lips parted, but no words came. She opened her mouth again, murmured something—a soft "hm… um… ah"—but it died there, swallowed by uncertainty. Her eyes shimmered with unspoken emotion. She couldn't find the words, couldn't voice the fear and love intertwined so tightly within her.

Victor swallowed, his throat tight, and stepped closer. "Mother… please," he whispered. "I need to understand. Not to rebel. Not to defy. I just… need to know. Can you… tell me?"

Ben's expression softened, though the tension in his body remained, a protective edge lingering in the curve of his shoulders. He placed a steady hand on Anna's arm, grounding her, lending her strength she seemed unable to summon alone.

Anna blinked rapidly, looking at Victor, then at Ben, then back again. Her mouth opened as if to speak, yet the words refused to form. She shook her head slightly, lips quivering. Her silence said more than any argument ever could: fear of losing her son, fear of letting him face danger, and an overwhelming, unyielding love that twisted her thoughts into knots.