Chapter 20 Chapter Twenty
A cold heart is good, but what happens when the heart no longer feels?~ Xavier Vancei.
Xavier
“Xavier,” a voice calls out, and I groan in my sleep. “Xavier,” the voice comes again, this time louder and rushed. Through the fogginess of my sleep, I can sense the pain in the familiar voice, and I rouse from sleep immediately. The room is dark, and through the outline of the figure in front of me, I know who it is.
“Xander?” My brow rises, and I hear him exhale softly.
In the wee hours of the morning, I find the lamp on the bedside table and turn it on. The soft light illuminates my brother’s face which is masked with a strange sorrow. My body go on alert. Xander might seem rowdy on the surface, moving without thoughts, but I know the shady business he has been in, and I know too well what he is capable of. The last time I saw such sorrow carved onto his face was when we were younger—fifteen and full of life which we draw from each other despite our father’s evil. My father had just finished hitting him, and he found his way to my room. I said nothing, just drawing him into my arms and offering comfort the only way I knew how. By patting his back and letting him know I was there for him. Xander who’s standing before me now is a far cry from that fifteen year old boy. And yet, when I look closely, I see traces of that boy in him. I wonder if that’s the way it is with me. If underneath this bravado and strong heart, lies that scared boy I vowed never to be the day I walked out of Blackmoon’s gates.
“She’s gone,” he says. In those single words, I hear the anguish. I suck in a breath. My mind immediately goes to Lillyan—strange enough—and my heart squeezes in a way I didn’t know was possible. How could she be gone? How did she escape, run away from us?
“How did she–”
“Our mother, Xavier,” perhaps seeing the confusion on my face, Xander clarifies, and to my shock, I actually inhale in relief. Relief. What a strange thing to feel. My mother is dead, and I don’t know how to react. I look around the dimly lit room, waiting for the pain to creep up my chest, just how a filial son would feel. But there’s nothing. Just a hollowness that I haven’t felt in a while. I know Xander is waiting for me to say something, but to be honest, I don’t know what to say. To say I’ll miss her, is to lie to myself and everyone. She was a good mate, and wife, but she wasn’t a good mother to me. Maybe she was, before my father went mad. I try to search through my memories, to find good and bonus points for her that can actually make me feel hurt that she’s dead. But those memories—if there were ever any—are so distant in my mind, that my brain has a hard time remembering.
When I think a long time has passed since I was supposed to say something, I sit up and relax my head on the headboard. Xander is still standing, hands behind his back.
“She’s happy now, I suppose. She has gone to meet her mate whom she truly loves,” I say, and a pale expression crosses his face. I know it’s probably the wrong thing to say at that moment about our mother, especially as she’s now dead, but I can’t be hypocritical that way. I can’t pretend to be in real pain as her son, when I’m not. In fact, I am processing things as a stranger.
“She’s in a better place,” Xander says softly. I can see that he’s hurt, he has every right to be. At least, he can remember the good memories he shared with her, but I can’t. And he’s in no place to judge me. I leave my bed, and let him lead the way out.
“She asked for you before her death,” Xander says quietly as we walk towards the door. I turn to him in surprise.
“You don’t have to lie to make me feel among. I know we claim that we came back because of her, but you know too well what the reason is.” I counter. The weather is cold, but I don’t feel any of it, above the hotness that spreads through my arms down to my hands.
“I’m not lying, Xavier,” my brother takes a single glance at me and says. I wonder what he sees on my face. Pain? Anger? Guilt? I don’t know why I’m feeling guilty. She’s the one who abandoned me—us—when we needed her the most. Yet, at the thought of her, at the thought of the fact that in her last moments being alive, she actually cared enough to send for me, my heart tightens. And I wasn’t there.
“Were you there?” I ask, not knowing how to respond to him.
Silence passes, and I’m not sure he heard my question. I don’t turn back, just continue heading steadily for the door. Just when I’m about to repeat my question, he responds.
“No.” He replies. I process that information.
“She sent for you too, didn’t she?” I ask the obvious.
“She sent for all of us,” he says, and I can hear him swallow. “All of us.”
…
The royal burial ground is not filled with many people, though as Luna of the pack, my mother had to receive her last respects. But except the people in power that’s limited to Betas and those given special passes by the Alpha, or in our case now, Alphas, no one is allowed to step foot in such a sacred place.
I went to change after taking a look at her corpse, and now, I’m currently dressed in an all-white outfit, to pay my last respects. Her body has been buried under, and a small stone statue with an image of her wolf—a large brown wolf with a domineering glint in its eyes—has been carved on it. The sky above has cleared now with a hint of solemnity to it as if it's sharing in the loss that has befallen Blackmoon, and is bidding farewell to the Luna. Pualin and the others give a last bow, then retreat out of the burial ground to give her children their time.
Xarius stands on the other side, with Xander beside him. Once or twice, our eyes meet, and in those brief moments, I can’t tell if the anguish I see in their eyes is what mirrors mine.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” a feminine voice says from behind me. My head jerks to the side to see Lillyan, also dressed in an all-white outfit. She gives a low bow, then straighten.
“Who let you in?” I ask curtly.
“Xarius,” she replies. Her eyes are trained on the statue carved above my mother’s grave.
“I heard that she was Japanese,” she says after some minutes pass.
“She was.” I reply.
“She was beautiful,” she goes on, her voice soft. “I know how it feels to lose a parent.” She admits. I want to correct her, tell her my mother was more of a Luna to me than she was of a mother. That when she saw a sudden burn on my wrists, or slashes on my arms which were frequent anyway, she would turn to her maid and order her to clean me up. Before she leaves, she’d pat me gently on the head. But I don’t. I remain mute as Lillyan goes on talking.
“I know how it is to see them for the last time, and feel the guilt of their death. I know all too well the terrible feeling that surrounds your heart just then.” She hiccups. It makes me think that she has been crying.
“I’ll take my leave now.” She says, and turn to leave. As I watch her figure disappear, two straight lines of tears finally makes their way down my face. I taste the saltiness as it lands on my mouth, and I lower my head.