"Mother, this is the woman I had seen in my dreams..."
Anon had hurried to usher the woman in, and was eager to make her more comfortable. Noamora had watched the woman's face very carefully. But the woman had only looked upon Anon with those unreadable deep eyes of hers.
After Anon had seen to it that she had a cup of streaming hot cocoa, and a warm blanket, he pulled a chair across from her, where he now sat, gazing at her.
Noamora sat close by, a tinge of something creeping up on her as she watched her son act like a servant for this woman.
The woman placed her cup down. Anon frowned and pointed at it.
"You haven't drank," he stated.
She laughed lightly. "I do not have need for drink, my son. I am.." she paused. "My, look how you've grown!"
It was hollow enthusiasm. Anon's frown became even deeper. "You are what?" he questioned. "And why did you call me your son?"
"Because you are," she immediately replied.
"Enough!"
Both Anon and the woman turned to look to Noamora curiously.
"I said enough," she repeated. "I want you out of my house. Now."
"Mother, wait." Anon said. "Hear her out. Listen, please, to what she has to say."
The woman stared Anon in the face. "Do you remember the dreams you had when you were four?"
He nodded.
"And do you remember seeing me in them? Do you remember what I was saying?"
He nodded. "You were saying that you were my true mother, and I your true child."
"Did you believe me?"
At this, he glanced guiltily at Noamora before replying, "Yes."
"And why did you believe me?" she pressed.
"I...I don't know."
"You do."
"I just felt it." He offered up, lamely.
She indulged him with a smile. "You do not yet know where you come from, my son. But worry not, it is time I show you."
Noamora dashed to block the door. "You will kill me first then," she huffed.
The woman smiled. "There are some things that we must first clear up, of course. For one, you have done a marvelous child of rearing my son..."
"YOUR SON?!" Noamora screeched.
"Yes. You have raised him, but I carried him for nine months in my womb. I am the mother who left him in the village all those seasons ago, but I have never abandoned him." Noamora snorted. "Believe what you wish," the woman continued, "But I have been protecting him. He is destined for great things. But he will not be a hero. He will be scorned, hated, rebuked, and if possible, murdered. He will be to all eyes the villain, except to the one he saves. But, before that happens, he must learn to control his gift."
"Gift?" Noamora asked, exasperated.
"Yes, the tool he will use. You are already familiar with it. You have seen its effects on people. And you may already have deemed it a curse."
"The only curse we've been experiencing is all the people that suddenly lose their minds and want to claim him as theirs. Like some people we know..." Noamora peered pointedly at the woman.
"That is his gift," the woman went on, ignoring the low jab. " He has the ability to obsess people in him."
"And that is a gift?"
"If he learned how to control it, yes."
"And who are you again?"
"My name is Euphoria," the woman replied. "I am a nymph from the Paradisian Islands. Every inhabitant there has some ability. And, though he does not live there, he has my blood coursing through his veins."
"So, you have the power to obsess people too?"
"No. I can just give someone tremendous pleasure like they have never felt. But I choose who I do that too."
"So, Anon..."
The woman held up her hand. "And you claim he is your child, your son? I have been here for awhile, listening intently to everything you have said, and not once have you called him son. Not once. You do not even truly believe you are his mother."
Noamora opened her mouth to speak, opened it wider to shout, but nothing came out.
"If Anon wants to control his gifts, I must take him with me back to the Paradisian Islands to reconnect with his roots. You may stay here and wait because I will be bringing him back. As much as I would love to keep him, I have sacrificed him to fate in order to protect him. And fate has placed him in your hands."
There was little said after that. After a brief, but intense discussion with Anon, she decided to let him go. And with a emotional goodbye, Anon took off with his biological mother for his homeland. But he vowed to return to the young woman who raised him from infancy, who now stood staring after them long after he had disappeared from sight.
Noamora. His Mother.
A/N: I was so enthused by the one review, and the one extra follower, that I decided to write two chapters. For those who are viewing, do not hesitate to review and be responsible for replenishing this author's artistic well. And I will continue to repay you by aspiring to write things that will resonate with the dreams and unspoken things hidden inside you.