His voice grew heavier. "But she didn’t hate you. She never has. She just... didn’t know how to be anything else but the daughter of war and the mother of vengeance."
Asher’s eyes lowered, unreadable.
Arnold looked at him with quiet urgency. "I’m not asking you to forgive her. Only to understand her. Try. Talk to her, even if she doesn’t talk back. You deserve to say what she never let you say before."
A long silence stretched between them before Asher gave a single nod.
"I’ll try," he said quietly.
He stood, tucking the soul cultivation book under his arm. He didn’t say anything else as he turned and walked toward the exit of the family hall.
Arnold watched him go, eyes shadowed but hopeful. He knew this next conversation wouldn’t be easy—for either of them. But perhaps, just perhaps, it was time for more than strength to shape the Magnus line.
It was time for healing.
When Asher returned to the mansion, something felt different. The halls were quieter than before. His footsteps echoed a little too much. It wasn’t danger—it just felt like everyone knew something had changed.
Valeris, Veyra, Catherine, and Freya were sitting together in the main hall, chatting casually. But the moment they saw him, they stopped talking. No one said anything, but their eyes followed him as he walked past.
Emily gave them a small nod, silently telling them not to bother him. They didn’t.
Asher went upstairs to the balcony that looked out over the gardens. The sky was cloudy, and a soft wind moved through the trees. He stood there quietly, leaning on the railing, staring out into the distance.
He wasn’t thinking about the Sulbians. Or the war. Or even the cultivation technique he had just handed over.
He was thinking about his mother.
And how even now, he wasn’t sure if he could truly think of her as family.
He didn’t notice when Emily came up beside him. But he could feel her there—calm, steady. She stood with him in silence for a few seconds, then spoke gently.
"What’s bothering you?"
Asher didn’t answer right away.
Emily didn’t rush him. She just placed a warm cup of herbal tea beside him and crossed her arms, waiting quietly.
"...My mother," Asher finally said. "Grandpa wants me to talk to her. But I don’t know what to say."
Emily nodded slowly. "You don’t always have to say much. Sometimes, just letting go of the weight is enough."
"She treated me like a tool," Asher said. "Not a son. I don’t think she ever really wanted me."
"She was hurting when she had you," Emily said. "And people in pain don’t always know how to show love. I don’t think she hated you. She just didn’t know how else to act."
"That doesn’t make it right."
"No, it doesn’t," Emily agreed. "But you’ve lived with that pain for long enough. Maybe it’s time you stopped letting it decide everything for you."
She reached over and placed her hand on his.
"You don’t have to carry everything by yourself anymore."
Google search Novel~Fire. (n)et
Asher looked at her, not as a leader or warrior—but just as the boy who once sat in her kitchen, too tired to speak.
"...Thank you, Emily."
She smiled gently and gave his arm a light pat. "Now go get some food. Rest. And when you’re ready, talk to her. Do it for yourself, not for her."
Then she walked back inside.
Asher stayed there, letting the wind hit his face. He didn’t have the answers yet.
Asher stayed on the balcony for a while longer, letting the silence settle around him. His fingers wrapped loosely around the warm cup Emily had left. He didn’t drink from it right away. Just held it. The heat reminded him that he was still here, still alive, and not the cold-hearted weapon he had once been shaped into.
Eventually, he turned and stepped back inside. The others were still in the main hall—talking softly now, their glances no longer sharp with concern but still watchful. Valeris was the first to notice him coming back down. She didn’t say anything, just gave him a nod and shifted to make room beside her.
"I’m fine," Asher said before anyone could ask.
Veyra raised an eyebrow but didn’t press. Catherine gave him a slight smile, and Freya just returned her attention to her cup. It was clear they all still had questions—but they’d wait until he was ready.
They all sat together at the long table again, food laid out in front of them. Simple dishes—nothing fancy. Just good, hot food made by someone who cared. Emily served them quietly, humming to herself as she moved around.
Asher finally sat down and began to eat. The warmth of the meal helped more than he expected. Bit by bit, the tension in his shoulders started to ease.
It wasn’t long before the conversation returned—this time about lighter things. Veyra mentioned a strange merchant she’d run into on her last solo mission. Valeris rolled her eyes at a noble who tried to flirt with her just to get access to one of Asher’s old training grounds. Freya spoke about her recent breakthrough and how her soul strength had reached the late Soul Snake stage.
Even Catherine joined in, teasing Veyra and Valeris now and then, clearly more relaxed around them than before. The room felt more like home than it ever had when Asher was younger.
He didn’t say much during the meal. But he listened. And watching them—these women who had stood with him through so much—he realized how far they’d all come.
Once breakfast ended, Emily cleared the plates, scolding them gently for trying to help.
Asher stood and stretched. "I’ll go see her," he said quietly.
"Are you sure?" Valeris asked.
"No," he admitted. "But I’m ready to try."
He didn’t need to say who he meant.
With that, he turned and left the hall, heading toward the family wing. Toward the chambers of Lady Selene—the woman who had given him life, but never the love he needed.