Grimoire of Cultivation

Chapter 10: Fractured

As the warmth of the fireplace touched Darius's small, lean form, he could not draw warmth from its comforting flames. His eyes, usually sparkling with an eager thirst for knowledge, were now clouded and dull.

He sat alone in a room of the foreign manor, the scent of burning wood and beeswax filling the room. His heart felt cold, reflecting the stone underfoot. 'A mortal? Was it all...'

In Rancito Cordoba, the Valdene manor stood quietly grand, its walls etched with ornate carvings of wolves and runes that whispered to Darius's legacy. But to the young heir, these symbols meant little; his gaze, dulled and distant, swept past them without a flicker of interest.

Lost in a storm of thought, Darius caught only fragments of his parents' distant voices, echoing down the corridor. Their words, muffled and intermittent, mingled with his inner turmoil. Each sharp tone that broke through felt like a dagger, slicing deeper into his sense of failure.

"....too quickly!..." His mother's voice, usually a comforting lullaby, now boomed like a thunderclap. The words were bare, stripped of context, but the fury behind them was clear as daylight.

His father's reply barely reached him, a low murmur drowned out by Darius's own despair. Even so, the disappointment in his tone cut through, "without his aura... our son, he cannot..." Jarek's words, usually so steady, faltered, hinting at burdens Darius couldn't grasp.

"Honor be damned," his mother's voice rang out again. Even in his state of mental chaos, Darius felt a pang of guilt at her determination. "He is our son!"

"Amara..." His father's response faded into the background again. It was a helpless shout from his father that stirred unknown depths of sorrow within Darius, pulling him deeper into the abyss.

The arguments of his parents faded into a muffled hum. Their words, muddled and lost, were completely drowned out by the turmoil within him. All that remained was a horrible tension that tightened around his heart, 'what should I do?'

His mother, stern and dignified, had always been his fortress. Her aquatic aura flared when Brundy called him a "dud." It rose to defend him like a physical barrier. Yet, the mage brushed off the insult with a dismissive smile, "A slip of the tongue, I assure you. Take no offense."

And his father, the composed and honorable Jarek Valdene, The Blue Wolf, was silent. His usual voice, strong like the lightning he wielded, was painfully absent during the confrontation.

Darius could feel the edges of his identity blurring, morphing, as though his very being was fracturing. The words of the wise cultivator Xue Feng began to slip from his grasp, feeling like words from a stranger.

"Am I truly...?" He found his own childlike voice foreign, so he forced his cadence to sound more like Xue Feng's meditative tone. "A mere illusion of grandeur, perhaps? A dream within a dream?"

His throat tightened as the weight of his failure truly sunk in. Darius had wanted to shine brilliantly, like a comet streaking across the night sky, admired by all who beheld its fiery trail. But comets didn't merely burn brightly; they plummeted and disintegrated, consumed by their fiery fate.

Now, the same fate seemed to be his own, his dreams of cultivating arcane power dissipating like smoke in the wind. His existence, once the embodiment of a powerful immortal, now seemed as transient and insignificant as a leaf carried by the breeze.

His mind teetered on the brink, swaying between his past and present realities. He was Darius Valdene, but was he also Xue Feng?

"Is this my karma?" Darius's voice trembled as he spoke into the emptiness, the words echoing off the cold walls. His head suddenly throbbed, a surge of pain that forced his face to contort.

His hands clenched his bowed head, nails digging into his skin. "I am Xue Feng. Grand Elder of the Ling Xu Sect, the Glutton of Penglai." Yet, his titles seemed hollow, meaningless. What was it without strength?

His small body trembled under the intensity of the pain, each heartbeat thundering in his ears. Yet, in the vortex of confusion, the essence of the wise cultivator within him, still flickered dimly, casting a weak light against the darkness.

His parents' argument was still a distant rumble. He wished to call out, to seek the comforting embrace of his mother or the supportive grip of his father's hand, "ple..." but his voice failed him.

This final failure, this child-like insecurity, broke him like a crashing wave. Drowning the tiny light that held the darkness at bay.

"Darius..." He whispered his name, the words falling from his lips like shards of broken dreams. The echoes of his name played softly around him, a taunting reminder of who he was supposed to be.

But the wise cultivator, the powerful Grand Elder, was absent, lost within a troubled child's fractured mind.

"The fire's warm," his voice filled with a child's innocence as he looked into the dancing flames of the hearth. Yet, even as he said it, tears began to fall as he hugged his knees tight, as if to ward off a cold that the fire's warmth couldn't reach.

"I wanna be a comet," his words barely above a whisper.

"But I'm just a boy... not a comet..." His voice trailed off into a heartbreaking admission, "... a dud."

A heartbreaking silence filled the room as Darius's tears subsided, replaced by a heavy emptiness. He was lost in a world he didn't belong to, his identity blurred and his reality shattered. The agonizing pain in his mind had gradually dulled, replaced by a chilling numbness that spread through his veins.

"I wanna go home," his tiny voice barely a whisper.

In the silence that ensued, he was alone, left to wallow in the remnants of his shattered reality. His eyes, now devoid of their previous brilliance, stared blankly at the dying embers. The last flicker of light extinguished, plunging the room into darkness.

The once radiant comet was no more, the wise cultivator was nowhere to be seen.

His memories as Xue Feng seemed a distant dream, a fantasy he had conjured. As his world was crumbling around him, his existence doubted, and his identity shattered, he fell asleep.

The day was too big for a six year old boy.

-----

A soft sigh echoed through the room as Darius peeled his eyes open. "It wasn't a dream," his puffy eyes sweeping over the room he barely knew. It wasn't the stony floor where he'd fallen asleep, his heart weighted with defeat and shame. Someone had moved him, and he knew without a doubt it had been his parents. He was in the bed, enveloped in the unfamiliar softness of his blanket.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, Darius dangled his small legs, the rugs warmth beneath his bare feet offering some comfort. "I bet dad is mad at me." Regardless of his parents' thoughts, the grumbling of his stomach urged him forward. He needed breakfast.

As he padded down the hall, dressed in his day robes, the low murmur of his parents' conversation reached him. "I think it would be better for Darius if we head home early," he heard his mother, Amara, say, her usually calm voice tinged with worry.

His father's response was curt, "you know if we leave now it will only make things worse. The other families will only find more fault."

"Dammit Jarek, will you stop being a damn Valdene and just be his father?" The desperation in Amara's voice made Darius pause.

"I'm trying to protect him, Amara! You know what will happen!"

Hoping to defuse their rising argument, Darius decided to announce his presence. He took a deep breath, then began his descent, his small steps loud in the still morning air. As he rounded the corner, he found his parents standing near the staircase, their faces etched with concern. Averting his gaze, Darius managed to whisper, "I'm sorry I embarrassed you, father."

Jarek's eyes softened, "You didn't embarrass me, son. It's not your fault." But his gentleness faded as quickly as it had come. Shaking his head and with a firm set of his jaw, he turned away, announcing their departure. "We leave for home today." Without a glance back, he strode away, leaving a bewildered Darius behind with his mother.

As Jarek's steps faded, Amara hugged her son. "Your father loves you, Darius, you know that, right?" Her words were a soft, soothing balm to Darius's frayed nerves.

"I know, mother," Darius responded, his voice small. His eyes lifted to meet hers. "Can I have some eggs?"

"Of course, my little wolf," Amara smiled, but as she met her son's eyes, a sudden, overwhelming wave of loss and sadness swept over her.

She blinked, confused by the sudden onslaught of emotions. Nodding, she retreated to the kitchen, her heart heavy.

Before leaving the dining room, she paused and looked back at Darius. He sat alone at the table, swinging his legs, humming a tune as if any other child would, waiting for breakfast.