Chapter 6
That time I became Immortal
The kitchen of the Sylla household was filled with the comforting aromas of Maria's cooking, a rich tapestry of scents that brought back a flood of memories for Adom. The table was laden with an array of dishes, each prepared with the love and care only a mother could offer. Maria watched with a mix of joy and astonishment as Adom devoured the food before him. This was a sight she had longed to see for years.
Adom, feeling ravenous in a way he never had before, relished each bite. The illness that had stolen so much from him, including his appetite, seemed a distant nightmare. He tasted the spiced lamb, the creamy mashed potatoes, the fresh, crispy salad, and the rich, hearty stew, each flavor a vivid reminder of a home he'd missed dearly.
Maria's eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she watched her son eat. “Adom, I can’t believe it! You’re eating so well!” Her voice was thick with emotion. She bustled around the table, pouring him more water and pushing the bowl of warm bread closer to him. “Eat, eat, my dear! You need to make up for all those lost years!”
Amadu, his father, sat across from him, an expression of bewilderment and amusement playing on his face. He laughed heartily, a deep, resonant sound that filled the room. "Son, what happened to you? I haven’t seen you eat like this since... well, ever!" His eyes twinkled with a mix of happiness and curiosity.
Adom, pausing between mouthfuls, managed a sheepish grin. “I guess I just realized how much I’ve been missing out,” he said, his voice a mixture of contentment and wonder. "And Mom's cooking is just too good to resist."
Maria beamed at the compliment, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “You always loved my lamb stew, even when you were little. I’m just so happy to see you enjoy food again.”
The conversation flowed effortlessly as they ate. Adom shared stories from the academy, carefully edited to omit the more fantastical elements of his recent experiences. His parents laughed at his tales, their faces glowing with pride and affection.
After the meal, they moved to the living room, settling into the comfortable, worn sofas that had been the backdrop of many family evenings. Adom looked around, taking in every familiar detail – the photographs on the mantelpiece, the knick-knacks collected over the years, the slightly faded but cozy rugs.
The warmth of the household was palpable, a stark contrast to the cool night air outside. Inside, the family shared a rare evening filled with laughter and joy. As Maria left to get her homemade blueberry cream cake, a signature dessert that brought back countless fond memories, Amadu turned to his son with a more solemn expression.
“Adom,” he began hesitantly, his voice laced with a father’s concern, “how are you feeling, really? Did something happen at the academy? You know you can tell us anything, son.” His eyes, filled with worry, searched Adom's face for any hint of the pain they were so accustomed to seeing.
Adom paused, his fork halfway to his mouth, and looked at his father. There was a moment of silence, filled with years of unspoken fears and hopes. Finally, with a fond smile that spoke volumes, Adom said, “Dad, I think I am no longer sick.”
Amadu’s reaction was a mix of disbelief and hope. He opened his mouth to speak, but words failed him. He closed it, then opened it again, struggling to process this incredible declaration. Adom, understanding his father’s turmoil, gently added, “I know there’s no cure for it, Dad. It's just... I suddenly feel better now. I can't explain it.”
Amadu listened, his emotions a tumultuous sea of hope and skepticism. “Son,” he said slowly, “if this is true... it’s a miracle. But we need to be sure. First thing tomorrow, let’s go to the hospital, just to check, okay? I need to know you’re really alright.”
Adom nodded, understanding his father’s need for confirmation. “Okay, Dad. We’ll go tomorrow.”
Just then, Maria re-entered the room, her face alight with joy, carrying the blueberry cream cake. The sight of it brought a collective smile to their faces, a reminder of many happy occasions celebrated with the same delicious dessert.
They spent the rest of the evening indulging in cake, talking, and laughing – an occurrence that had been all too rare in their household. The conversation flowed effortlessly, skipping from lighthearted topics to fond reminiscences. For once, the shadow of Adom’s illness, which had loomed over them for so long, was pushed to the back of their minds, allowing them to bask in the joy of the present.
None of them mentioned Shadowfade Syndrome again that night. It was as if they had collectively decided to let this evening be one of unadulterated happiness, free from the burdens of the past and the uncertainties of the future. They laughed, shared stories, and simply enjoyed being a family – something that had seemed like a distant dream for so long.
As the night drew to a close, a sense of contentment settled over the household. For Adom, being with his family, sharing in their love and joy, was a balm to his soul. He went to bed that night with a heart full of gratitude, a stark contrast to the many nights of loneliness and pain he had endured.
The moon hung high in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the landscape as Adom lay awake, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. The fear of losing this newfound reality to the ephemeral nature of dreams kept him from closing his eyes. He was determined to savor every moment of this experience, afraid that sleep would snatch it all away.
As he lay there, lost in contemplation, the enigmatic blue box reappeared abruptly, breaking the stillness of the night. This time, at its center, a red message blinked ominously: "New quest: go to the beach where everything started." Below it, more details emerged: "Upon success: new skill. Upon failure: Death. Time remaining: 30 minutes."
Adom's heart skipped a beat at the word "Death." The stakes were suddenly, terrifyingly real. He sat up, his mind racing. The box had become an undeniable part of this reality, its directives too consequential to ignore. With only 30 minutes, he had no time to waste.
Quietly, Adom slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb the peaceful slumber of his parents. He moved through the familiar corridors of his home, each step taking him closer to the unknown. Stepping outside into the cool night air, he made his way to the stables where the Pegasus were kept.
Crin-blanc, his majestic white Pegasus, greeted him with a familiar nicker. Despite the years that had passed, the bond between them was as strong as ever. Adom stroked Crin-blanc's mane, whispering softly, "I missed you, old friend." The Pegasus nuzzled him in response, its intelligent eyes seeming to understand the urgency of the moment.
Quickly, Adom saddled Crin-blanc, his movements practiced and efficient. He had always had a natural aptitude for riding and flying Pegasus, a talent that now came to his aid. With a light kick, he urged Crin-blanc into the sky, the Pegasus's powerful wings beating against the night air.
They soared into the moonlit sky, the ground falling away beneath them. The world looked different from up high, more serene and peaceful, a stark contrast to the turmoil in Adom's heart. As they flew, the cool air whipped against his face, a bracing reminder of the reality of his situation.
Adom guided Crin-blanc towards the beach, the very place where his journey in this altered reality had begun. The moon reflected off the ocean, turning the water into a shimmering expanse of silver and black. The beach was deserted, the only sounds the gentle lapping of the waves and the distant call of night birds.
Under the celestial tapestry of the night, Adom and Crin-blanc landed softly on the beach, the cool sand yielding under their weight. The moon, a luminous orb in the ink-black sky, cast a serene glow over the ocean, its light playing on the waves in a dance of silver and shadow. The air was fresh, imbued with the briny scent of the sea, and the rhythmic sound of the waves washing ashore provided a soothing backdrop to Adom’s tumultuous thoughts.
With only three minutes to spare, the blue box flickered to life once again, proclaiming in bold letters, "Mission Success! Rewards will soon be given accordingly." Then, as quickly as it appeared, it vanished into the ether, leaving Adom alone with his pegasus under the moonlit sky.
He stood there, perplexed and expectant, the anticipation of the unknown hanging heavily in the air. The night was eerily quiet, the only sounds being the gentle murmur of the ocean and the occasional soft snort from Crin-blanc. Adom's gaze was drawn to the horizon, where the moon's reflection kissed the sea, creating a path of shimmering light.
As he watched, lost in the beauty of the moment, a sudden presence beside him shattered the tranquility. Startled, he let out an involuntary yelp, turning sharply to face the source of his surprise. There, standing just a breath away, was the mysterious woman, her appearance as sudden and silent as a shadow.
The woman's laugh, light and melodious, filled the air. "Oh, sorry, did I startle you?" Her eyes sparkled with amusement, and her smile held an enigmatic charm.
Adom, recovering from his initial shock, could only nod, his heart still racing from the surprise. The woman's beauty was ethereal, almost otherworldly. Her hair flowed like a cascade of midnight silk, and her eyes, deep and fathomless, seemed to hold the mysteries of the stars. The moonlight illuminated her delicate features, casting her in an angelic radiance.
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She moved with a grace that seemed to defy the very laws of nature, her steps leaving no trace in the sand. The air around her shimmered faintly, as if she were not entirely bound to the physical world. Adom found himself captivated, drawn in by her presence, yet acutely aware of the power she wielded.
"You've completed the quest I set for you," the woman said, her voice a gentle caress against the backdrop of the ocean's song. "And you did so with time to spare. Impressive."
Adom, finding his voice, asked cautiously, "Who are you? What is this all about?"
The moonlit beach, bathed in a serene glow, became the stage for a revelation that would forever alter Adom’s understanding of his world. The mysterious woman, standing beside him, chuckled gently at his question. "I have been given many names," she said, her voice as soft as the sea breeze. "The Great Equalizer, The Silent Guide, The Last Companion, The Keeper of the Final Breath. But you, Adom, you already know all that."
Adom's heart skipped a beat as he processed her words, each title echoing with the weight of ancient tales and poetic lore. The names were different, yet they all spoke of one inescapable truth – she was the embodiment of death, a being that existed beyond the realm of the living.
Crin-blanc, sensing the gravity of the moment, approached the woman cautiously. Remarkably, instead of showing fear or unease, the majestic Pegasus seemed drawn to her. She extended her hand, and her touch was gentle as she caressed the creature's mane. "Animals can sometimes see me," she mused. "They are often afraid, but this Pegasus is as peculiar as his master, it seems."
Adom let out a tense chuckle, his eyes never leaving the woman. "You're not what I expected... if you are who I think you are," he said, his voice laced with a mix of apprehension and awe.
The woman's gaze settled on him, warm yet unfathomable. "You seemed more at ease the last time we met," she observed, a playful smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
Adom shrugged, his expression a mixture of confusion and resignation. "I thought I had gone mad then," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.
"And what about now? Do you still think you're mad?" she inquired, her eyes searching his.
Adom paused, considering her question. The surreal nature of his experiences, the impossible return to his youth, the strange blue box, and now this encounter – it all defied logic. Yet, the vividness of his emotions, the physicality of his experiences, the warmth of his family's embrace – they were undeniably real. "I don't know," he finally said. "I don't know what to believe anymore."
As the woman was looking at him, Adom, spurred by a mix of curiosity and desperation, found the courage to voice the question burning in his mind. "How did you bring me back in the past?" He hastily added a flurry of scientific reasoning, citing the laws of physics, the paradoxes of time travel, and the impossibility of altering the linear progression of time, all theories that firmly rooted time travel in the realm of fantasy.
The woman's response was a gentle chuckle, her amusement clear in the moonlit air. "Of all the creatures I have known, and I have known them all, humans truly are the strangest," she mused. Her eyes sparkled with a wisdom that transcended ages as she regarded him with fondness and intrigue. "How can you still try to rationalize this as impossible when you are literally experiencing it?"
Adom stood speechless, his scientific arguments faltering in the face of his undeniable reality. The woman, sensing his inner turmoil, gracefully sat down on the cool sand, the moon casting her shadow across the beach. She gestured for Adom to join her, and he did, sitting beside her in the silver light.
With her beautiful smile unwavering, she spoke softly, yet her words carried the weight of unfathomable knowledge. "I exist outside the boundaries of time," she explained. "In my realm, the past, present, and future are not linear, but a tapestry woven with infinite threads. On rare occasions, I can extend certain... favors to mortals."
Adom listened, his mind struggling to grasp the concept. The idea of time as a non-linear construct was beyond his comprehension, yet here he was, living proof of its possibility.
"The laws that govern your world are not the same that govern mine," she continued. "What seems impossible to you is merely a different state of being where I come from. Bringing you back in time is a mere bending of the threads, a slight alteration in the weave of your destiny."
As the waves whispered secrets to the shore, Adom, grappling with the enormity of his situation, posed the inevitable question to the enigmatic figure beside him. "Why me? Of all people, why did you choose me?"
The woman's response was not immediate. She looked at him, her gaze lingering so intensely that Adom found himself lowering his eyes, overwhelmed by her otherworldly beauty. It was both mesmerizing and intimidating, a beauty that transcended the earthly realm.
Finally, she broke the silence with a smile, tinged with both jest and gravity. "I just felt like it," she said, her tone playfully serious.
Adom's head snapped up, his expression one of disbelief. Her laughter rang out, clear and melodious against the backdrop of the sea. "You should see your face; it's to die for, so cute," she teased, her eyes dancing with amusement.
Adom, caught off guard, felt a flush of embarrassment warm his cheeks. The atmosphere lightened momentarily, but the woman's next words carried a deeper, more solemn weight.
"Throughout the ages, I've granted this rare gift of rebirth to a few. Many believed they could rewrite their destinies, yet so few tales ended without sorrow." She paused, her gaze distant as if viewing the tapestry of countless lives. "There was one, not unlike you, Adom. Full of conviction, eager to mend the fabric of his world with what he deemed righteous stitches. His choices, however noble in intent, unraveled threads far beyond his reach, weaving consequences that still ripple through time."
Adom listened, the weight of her words settling like a mantle on his shoulders.
The woman's eyes, ancient and knowing, locked onto his. "His heart, it yearned for simplicity, for peace, yet the essence of who he was, the core that burned within him, it was not made for the quiet shores but for the tumultuous seas."
Adom, his resolve unwavering, responded, "I've seen enough to know the life I want now. A quiet one, away from the upheavals of the world."
A soft chuckle escaped the woman, "Oh, Adom, the threads of fate are curious and wild. Men like you, they try to steer clear of the storm, yet somehow, the storm finds them. It'll be interesting to see how you navigate this vast ocean of life." Her words hung between them, a prophecy veiled in the mist of the unknown.
"I have been observing you for quite some time, Adom, son of Amadu," she said, her voice softening. "Every time you nearly died, our eyes met. I have grown quite fond of you, but also a bit mad at you."
A shiver ran down Adom's spine at her admission. The idea of being watched by an entity like her, especially at such critical moments of his life, was both unsettling and intriguing.
"You're not the first human to curse life and be so focused on their misery that they become blind to life's most joyful moments," she continued, her tone becoming more serious. "You became arrogant, brooding, and a plight to those around you."
Adom felt the sting of her words, but he could not deny their truth. He had indeed let his struggles with his illness overshadow the brighter aspects of his life, pushing away those who cared for him. The realization was a bitter pill to swallow.
The woman's words hung in the air, a poignant echo of Adom's deepest fears and desires. "But that is not the reason I brought you back," she continued, her voice soft yet firm. "Depending on how you live this time, this could be a gift or a punishment to you. Let's just say I am curious to see how it will turn out for you."
She paused, her gaze never leaving Adom's face. "A man so attached to life and the desire for immortality that he resented everything because he did not have it." Her words were a mirror, reflecting a truth Adom had never fully confronted.
Adom opened his mouth to protest, to deny her accusation, but the words wouldn't come. In the silence of the night, with the gentle lapping of waves as the only sound, Adom faced an uncomfortable truth about himself. He had indeed dreamed of health, of a life unmarred by sickness and the constant shadow of death. He had envied those around him, their ease of living, their unburdened days. Death had taken so much from him, leaving behind a deep-seated resentment.
Lost in these revelations, Adom hardly noticed the woman’s next words, but they cut through his thoughts sharply. "Aha! Exactly, that is exactly when you insulted me, where you tried to curse me, Adom."
Her words jolted him back to the present. The realization that his innermost thoughts and feelings had been so transparent to her was unsettling. He looked at her, a mix of remorse and newfound understanding in his eyes.
"I... I never thought of it that way," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I was so focused on what I didn't have, on what was taken from me, that I couldn't see what was still there. I never meant to... insult you."
The woman nodded, her expression softening. "Understanding is the first step towards change, Adom. You have been given a rare opportunity to see life from a new perspective, to appreciate it in all its fleeting beauty. What you do with this chance will define you."
The woman's revelation lingered in the air, reshaping Adom's understanding of his extraordinary circumstances. "Well, in any case," she said, her voice echoing the rhythm of the sea, "you have been given what you longed for the most. More than your parents, more than this world or anything else, you have been given immortality."
The word 'immortality' hung between them, a concept so vast and profound that it seemed almost surreal. Adom felt a mixture of awe and disbelief. The very thing he had unconsciously yearned for, the escape from the fragility of human life, was now within his grasp.
"You can do whatever you want with it," she continued, her tone both empowering and cautionary. "You can become whatever you want now. And I will even ease it for you." She gestured towards the space where the blue box had appeared. "You will understand the power system I have gifted you in time. I have no doubt you will be smart enough to make the most of it."
Her words opened a realm of possibilities to Adom, each more bewildering than the last. The idea that he could shape his destiny, free from the constraints of mortality, was both exhilarating and daunting.
As she rose to her feet, Adom instinctively stood up with her, suddenly aware of her towering presence. She was indeed tall, surpassing seven feet, a stature that added to her otherworldly aura. In her presence, Adom felt both humbled and invigorated.
Her reminder of their deal brought a sobering gravity to the conversation. "Remember, our deal was for me not to take you as long as you did not want it," she said, her voice echoing the solemnity of their agreement. "When your feelings truly change, that will be the next and only time you and I shall see each other again. And I will take your soul then."
The finality of her words sent a chill down Adom's spine, a stark reminder of the pact he had made with this enigmatic being. The thought of his soul being taken, the end of his journey, regardless of how distant that might be, was a daunting prospect. It made the gift of immortality seem less like endless freedom and more like a loan with an inevitable due date.
Adom met her statement with a look of defiance, a spark of his indomitable spirit shining in his eyes. "Then do not expect to see me, ever again," he said, his tone firm and resolute.
'Death' laughed, a sound that held neither malice nor joy, but a deep understanding of the complexities of life and its end. As she walked away, her form gliding effortlessly over the water, she called back, "We'll see about that. Live long and well, Adom, son of Amadu." Her figure blended with the moonlight and the waves, disappearing as if she were a part of the sea itself, leaving no trace of her presence.
Adom stood alone on the beach, the dawn now breaking in earnest, painting the sky in brilliant shades of gold and crimson. The encounter had left him with much to ponder – the nature of his immortality, the weight of his choices, and the eventual end that awaited him. But it also filled him with a sense of purpose and determination.