Read Novel Full Chapter 568: Her Light, Her Lifeline
Chapter 568: Her Light, Her Lifeline
On the day of Astrid’s blessing celebration, after the cake had been eaten and everyone had retired for the night, Anya immediately went to her mother’s room.
She found Fauna sitting by the window, moonlight streaming in and illuminating her gentle features.
Anya didn’t say a word at first.
She just walked over, crawled into her mother’s lap, and burst into tears.
The sobs came from somewhere deep inside her, a place she had been trying to ignore for months.
Her small body shook as she buried her face in Fauna’s chest, clutching at her mother’s dress like a lifeline.
“Mo…Mommy.” She choked out between sobs. “A-Am I strange? Am I weak? Do I even belong to this family?!”
The words tumbled out of her in a flood, all the fears she had been holding inside finally breaking free.
“All my sisters got their blessings! Charlotte, and Astrid, and everyone!”
“B-But I didn’t. I still don’t have one!”
“I tried everything, Mommy. I tried sleeping like Auntie Yelena said, and I tried running like Auntie Nadia said, and I tried fighting animals, and I stayed in the bathroom for so long.
“But…But nothing worked. Nothing ever works!”
Fauna pulled her daughter back, her hands cupping Anya’s tear-stained face.
“Anya. Look at me.”
Anya couldn’t. She kept her eyes fixed on the floor.
“Anya. Look at me.”
Slowly, reluctantly, Anya raised her eyes to meet her mother’s gaze.
“You are not strange.”
“You are not weak.”
“And you ABSOLUTELY, COMPLETELY belong in this family.”
Fauna’s voice was firm but filled with love.
“Do you understand me?”
“You are simply a late bloomer, that’s all.” Fauna pulled her close again, stroking her hair. “There is nothing wrong with you. You will definitely get your own blessing in the future.”
“But what if I don’t?”
Fauna was quiet for a moment. Then she spoke, her voice was filled genuine warmth.
“You will definitely get your own blessing in the future, baby. I am certain of it. But even if you don’t—listen to me, Anya—even if you don’t, there is nothing wrong with that at all.”
“Do you understand?”
Fauna’s voice grew proud, her eyes shining with conviction as she explained,
“The world we live in is a peaceful world.”
“A world that I built with my own hands, a world where children don’t need to fight or struggle or prove themselves.”
“There is no need for my daughter to have a blessing to protect herself in the peaceful world I established.”
She cupped Anya’s face in her hands, her touch impossibly gentle.
“So, it is completely alright if you live a normal life. More than alright. It would make me happy beyond measure to see my baby grow up safe and content, blessing or no blessing.”
And Fauna meant every single word.
She genuinely did not care if her daughter had a blessing or not. Her love was unconditional, absolute, unwavering.
She would love Anya the same if she could move mountains, and she would love Anya the same if she remained ordinary forever.
But Anya, in her fragile state of mind, completely took this the wrong way.
In her anxious, desperate mind, she heard something entirely different. She heard:
Your mother already thinks you’re a lost cause.
She’s given up on you.
She’s just comforting you because she knows you’ll never awaken.
The words were meant to lift her up, but they only made her sink deeper.
“Thank you, Mama.” Anya whispered, forcing a smile onto her face. “I feel better now.”
Fauna kissed her forehead. “That’s my brave girl.”
But as Anya walked back to her room that night, the tears started falling again.
—
What made everything worse was how her sisters showed off their blessings constantly.
“Anya! ANYA! Look!”
Charlotte had discovered she could control rats.
A whole swarm of them followed her around now, and she found this absolutely hilarious.
She would make them dance in formation, do little tricks, even stack on top of each other to form a wobbly pyramid.
“Look what they can do!” Charlotte cackled, conducting the rats like a tiny, terrifying orchestra. “Aren’t they AMAZING?”
“They’re…certainly something.” Anya managed.
“Your face is all scrunched up! Don’t you like them?”
“No, I…they’re wonderful, Charlotte. Really.”
Charlotte beamed and went back to her rat orchestra, completely oblivious to the turmoil in her sister’s heart.
—
Astrid was even more enthusiastic.
“Little sister! Little sister, watch this!”
In her right hand, flames flickered to life, small at first, then growing into a dancing orb of fire.
In her left hand, water swirled and spun, a miniature whirlpool contained in her palm.
“Ready?” Astrid grinned. “Three…two…one…”
She brought her hands together, and the fire and water collided with a great hissing sound.
Steam billowed out in all directions, filling the garden with a warm mist that made rainbows dance in the sunlight.
“TA-DA!” Astrid threw her arms wide. “I made steam! Actual steam! Do you know how hard that is? The temperature control alone is—”
“That’s amazing, Astrid.” Anya said quietly.
“I’m going to get even better! Mama says I have real potential! She says I might even be able to—”
“That’s really amazing.”
Astrid paused, finally noticing something off in her sister’s tone.
“Anya? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine!” Anya’s smile was bright, practiced, perfect. “I’m just so happy for you. Really.”
And Astrid, being a child herself, accepted this at face value and went back to making steam.
—
Her other sisters showed off their abilities too, each one eager to demonstrate their newfound powers.
Of course this was not out of malice. Never out of malice.
They were just small children who were so proud of their new abilities, so excited by the magic flowing through their veins, that they couldn’t help but share it with everyone around them.
But Anya did not take this properly.
She only felt that her situation was getting worse and worse. Every display of power felt like a reminder of her own inadequacy.
Every celebration for someone else felt like a funeral for her own hopes.
What didn’t help was the fact that wherever she went, any occasion, any meeting with her mother’s associates, there would be people constantly asking her questions.
“Oh, you haven’t awakened your blessing yet, Lady Anya? But it’s alright. You’ll definitely do so soon.”
A pat on the head, a condescending smile.
“You’re your mother’s child, after all. I’m sure your blessing will be extraordinary when it finally appears.”
Expectant eyes, waiting.
“I wonder what it will be? I’m sure it will be extremely powerful, given your lineage.”
Speculation, pressure, hope that wasn’t her own.
“You have to carry on your mother’s lineage. It can’t stop with you. You have to do her proud.”
The weight of legacy, pressing down on small shoulders.
They never said it with malice. That was the worst part.
They said it with hope, with expectation, with genuine belief in her potential.
But all Anya heard was the weight of being born to someone as powerful as Fauna.
Even at her mother’s hospital, the great medical institution that Fauna had built, the nurses would ask.
“You’re Lady Fauna’s daughter, aren’t you? Have you awakened yet?”
“No.” Anya would say, her voice small.
“Oh, don’t worry, dear. It’ll come. A child of such lineage—how could it not?”
‘How could it not?’
The question haunted her.
—
Her sisters were progressing at a massive rate.
Charlotte could control larger and larger swarms of different animals.
Astrid could create explosions that shook the training grounds.
The others were discovering new aspects of their blessings every day, climbing higher and higher.
And Anya?
Still nothing.
She felt like her life was spiraling out of control, like she was drowning in an ocean of expectations while everyone else swam effortlessly past her.
This obviously wasn’t a feeling that a child should have to go through.
Especially not someone who was naturally timid and quiet, someone who had always preferred the shadows to the spotlight.
But circumstances had conspired against her, and her own lack of confidence made everything worse.
—
The worst part was that she had become very, very good at hiding it.
Whether it was her sisters, her aunts, or even her own mother, none of them knew how much she was actually suffering inside.
When Charlotte showed off her latest trick, Anya would clap and cheer.
When Astrid created something new, Anya would nod and say it was amazing.
When her mother asked if she was alright, Anya would wave her hand dismissively.
“I’m totally alright, Mommy. Really.”
She said it with such conviction that even her mother believed it.
She had perfected the art of the smile, the cheerful wave, the “I’m totally fine, don’t worry about me!”
This was because she didn’t want anyone to worry about her.
She already felt like a burden. She didn’t want to make it worse by forcing her family to carry her emotional weight on top of everything else.
So she suffered in silence.
And the silence made her feel more and more alone.
—
But there was one person who gave her comfort.
One person who was the only reason she hadn’t completely broken under the pressure crushing down on her.
And that person was, of course, Mika.
She didn’t know exactly how he did it.
She didn’t know why he, of all people, could see through her when no one else could.
But he would take one single glance at her face, and somehow, impossibly, he would know all of the negative feelings she was going through.
And he would immediately call her out on it. On the spot. No hesitation.
“You’re doing it again.” He would say, not even looking up from whatever he was doing. “That thing where you pretend everything is fine but you’re actually falling apart inside.”
“You’ve…also been crying haven’t you?”
The smile froze on her face. “What? No, I haven’t. I’m fine. I’m totally—”
“Your eyes are red. Your voice is slightly higher pitched than normal. You’re holding your shoulders too stiff.”
He ticked off the observations on his small fingers. “You’ve been crying. What happened?”
“I haven’t been—”
“Anya.”
She tried to maintain the facade. She really did.
But something about the way he looked at her with those eyes that seemed to see straight through every wall she’d built made it impossible.
The tears came before she could stop them.
And before she knew it she was running to him, throwing her arms around him, sobbing into his shoulder while all the words she’d been holding back came flooding out.
“I’m useless!” She cried. “I’m never going to get my blessing! Everyone else has one and I’m just…I’m just nothing!”
“Mama says it’s okay but she’s just saying that because she thinks I’m a lost cause!”
“I’m never going to make her proud and she probably wishes I was different and—”
Mika rolled his eyes.
But his arms wrapped around her anyway, holding her tight.
“You’re an idiot.” He said.
“Mika!”
“You are.” His voice was matter-of-fact. “You’ll definitely awaken your blessing. It’s just taking longer than the others. But I know you will.”
And then his voice softened, just slightly
“And whether you have a blessing or not.” He said quietly. “And even if the whole world despises you even if you don’t, you will always be the same Anya in front of my eyes.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“You promise?”
“I don’t make promises I can’t keep.” He crossed his arms. “So yes. I promise.”
And Anya felt it then—that overwhelming sense of safety, of warmth, of being seen and accepted exactly as she was.
Mika was literally a year younger than her. He was a child.
But despite that, he carried a certain maturity, a certain sense of security that she could always trust.
It wasn’t just that as well.
He had always been the one who indulged in her quiet hobbies.
When she wanted to sit and read, he would sit beside her with his own book.
When she wanted to arrange flowers, he would hand her the stems one by one without being asked.
He knew her inside and out, and he treated her like the introvert she was—never pushing, never demanding, just being there.
“Mika, you’re my favorite person.” Anya whispered, still clinging to him.
“I know.” Mika said.
“That’s when you’re supposed to say I’m your favorite too!”
“You’re tolerable.”
“Mika!”
But she was laughing now, the tears drying on her cheeks.
He was her light.
Her lifeline.
The only thing keeping her from drowning.