Chapter 105

Chapter 105: 105 "But all that’s over now," continued Bran. He put his hands onto his mother’s shoulders and gave them a light squeeze. "I’m alright now." In his idle hours (there had been many) he’d sometimes wondered what he’d say to his mother if she ever woke. Sometimes he thought he’d ask her why she never taught him Cantonese and rail against the injustice of it; sometimes he thought he’d tell her all the ways he’d been able to succeed - show off to her and hope she praised him. But now that this unexpected opportunity had come along, all Bran wanted to do was to give his mum a hug. And so he did. He’d lived overseas. He’d found satisfaction in learning. He knew he didn’t need her approval to know he was okay and that she would absolutely be proud of him. He couldn’t explain how, but he already knew the answers to the questions he’d once been burning to ask. He knew that having been born and raised in a colony, his mother had had a certain shape branded into her psyche from the moment she took her first breath and that it would take longer than a lifetime to straighten it out. Those days were over, but she and her generation still had a measure of alienation from the city, from their home, from their country. It was a sad, sad fact but it was a true one and it was one that had affected him, the next generation. His mother had felt... embarrassed, inferior, when it came to her background and her culture, and that had only intensified after she’d moved overseas - probably intensified to dangerously high levels given the man she’d gone on to marry, Bran thought darkly. And that was why she had not passed on what she knew. It wasn’t that she hadn’t cared for Bran, and that was why she hadn’t taught him her mother tongue or taught him his family’s ways, it was precisely because she loved him so much. She felt that weight as a burden and the last person she wanted to burden was her own beloved son. Give your child everything good you ever got, and everything you didn’t get, and none of the bad stuff, that’s the creed his mother had followed when it came to raising him. Pity it hadn’t been shared by his step-father. But here Bran encountered a question that he did not have an easy answer to. "Mum, who’s Arthur Penn?" he asked, his arms loosening a little around his mother’s shoulders. His mother turned in the chair and the memory faded, leaving the pair of them standing facing one another, one so much taller than the other. The woman sighed, seemingly aging a decade in that single moment, and looked away. "Years ago, back before I left Pearl City, I had a boyfriend. That was him." Bran nodded and said nothing. That tallied with what he’d been told, though it still somehow managed to shake him to the core to hear his mother admit it. How could she have dated a man like that? And almost like she could hear his thoughts, she answered. "I’m not sure if he changed after, or was always this power hungry," she went on. "I know better now than to assume that a young girl could really know someone as well as she thought. I was quite proud as a youth, proud and arrogant, thinking I knew everything." "You don’t have to be so mean to yourself..." Bran mumbled. Right now, he was a little older than his mother had been back then when she had him. His mother laughed and stepped forward, placing both her hands on his shoulders. "Alright," she said. Then her eyes became distant. "I wonder though, if it would have turned out better if I’d stayed here, let Arthur be your father than that man..." Bran knew who she meant. His father, step-father really, had been kind to them at first. "Who knows," replied Bran. "But mum." He took her hands in his. "I’m glad you chose what you did. I’m... glad that I grew up like this." "That you met Misha, you mean." Bran blushed and quickly turned away, making his mother laugh again. "I haven’t been able to be there for you," she said, "But I’ve been able to gain a glimpse here and there and..." She looked askance with a smile, "I’ve had the help of a few friends." "Friends?" Bran asked, hoping to navigate away from Misha for a bit. He didn’t feel any guilt or anything like that over it; he was just profoundly embarrassed. Aunt Yeung knowing who he liked was one thing, but his mum... "Yes. At first, there was Yeung Serng Yin. She was the one who protected your soul initially then later helped me provide a stronger scaffold." "...Willingly?" asked Bran. "Absolutely willingly," was the reply. "I haven’t been fully conscious these past ten years, but my mind would sometimes surface, and not once did I ever regret my choice to help you. I’m your mother. What else could I do?" She gave a little laugh. "Then, more recently, I’ve had the help of another friend. Misha’s parent." "What...?" Why would Artemis help his mother? Or did she mean Ling? Or someone else? "Oh, my little baby..." she crooned as she hugged him. She didn’t even come up to his shoulders. Bran sank into the embrace, feeling like a little child again. He opened his mouth to ask her something, but stopped. There was a rumbling coming from somewhere. Bran pulled back and looked around. He couldn’t tell where the noise was coming from. Bran’s mother looked to the crumbling edges of the dream then turned back to him and cupped his face in her hands. "Time’s up. You should be getting back," she said. "Getting back...?" Even as he began to ask, all of Bran’s most recent memories flooded back through his mind. The Unity, the Nameless Beast, Misha, all of it suddenly urgently pressing at him, making him wonder how he’d ever let something that big slip his mind. What had happened? Where was Misha? He could tell this place was some kind of dream Coil, but there was something different about it. Had he... died? "I couldn’t protect you back then. I made... mistake after mistake..." Bran’s mother raised a hand to stop Bran from disagreeing and gave a mysterious smile. "But now there’s one thing I know I can help you with." She stepped back and held her arms out to either side, curved like she was receiving some divine provenance. Then, a light dropped down from above to her head and the rest of her body glowed. More and more light from all around drew towards her, making her glow brighter and brighter until Bran had to squint, then, there was a spark and her appearance changed. No longer the short, homely figure - No, now she was a regal queen with a crystal tiara and sequined dress and gloves, a fairy godmother just like in the fairytales she loved so much to illustrate. "Mum?" "The seal has been broken," his mother replied, her voice now also echoing with power. "And with it, the last thing holding your soul in your body. Your Aunt has an idea of how to patch it, but there’s no time for that and besides," she twisted her hand and an unmistakably magical wand appeared in it, "I think I can do better." The rumbling stopped then roared to life once again as large cracks cut down from above them. Outside, past the jagged pieces, was darkness. Endless darkness. It wasn’t just the Coil that was collapsing, Bran saw immediately, it was his self, his soul. Arthur had broken the seal, the seal that not only kept the Nameless Beast at bay, but the integrity of his very being. Pain cut through him and Bran gasped, falling to the ground. "Life is an awful, terrible, wonderful, thing," he heard his mother say and he looked up at her. She was channeling so much power now that she was nearly invisible in the midst of it. Bran took a deep breath then forced himself back onto his feet. "Life brings sadness and anger but also love and joy," continued his mother. "All things can be found in all moments, a miracle in every second." She raised her hands together and Bran saw that there was pure, magical energy collecting together between him. "Life is a fantastic tale," she said then let the magic drop from her hands. The spark of life fell then circled around Bran, spinning and twirling around him like it was forging him a cocoon and suddenly the pain was gone. Then, in his mind’s eye, Bran saw his life flicker before him like he was both reliving it and observing it. "Mum..." His mother smiled then lowered her hands. She didn’t need to explain what she had done, Bran could feel the difference. The seal was broken but she had woven a new... something to keep his soul intact. "Take care of yourself," she said, her voice getting softer as the light faded and her visage along with it. Bran’s heart leapt to his throat and he bit his lip to stop himself from crying out. He knew she had given the last of her living essence to sustain him and that there was no remedy for that - even this one last meeting was an impossible possibility - but he couldn’t help feeling agrieved. "I will," he gasped when he could. His mother smiled and Bran forced himself to return it. It was the last time. He wanted to give her a good send off.