Mother's choice

"AAHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

While the black throne had met his inevitable end, somewhere in a dimly lit chamber shrouded in an aura of ancient era, a long and haunting scream reverberated through the air.

In the center of the room stood an old man, his eyes fixed forward, seemingly unmoved by the unfolding screams before him.

Beside him, a trembling young girl, barely six years of age, clung to his wrinkled hand as if her lifeline. Her obsidian tresses flowed down her small frame, and her once deep oceanic eyes, now clouded with dread and desolation, mirrored a reality far harsher than any child should know.

And there before her was a woman, lying on the nearby bed. Her labored breaths filled the air, her face etched with exhaustion and pain as she struggled through the throes of childbirth.

The young girl beside the old man bore an uncanny resemblance to her, leaving no doubt of their relation of mother and daughter. Beside the laboring woman, an elderly woman donned in robes carefully pricked her finger and drew a few drops of her blood. With intricate grace, she etched ancient runes on the woman's forehead, and as if by some mystical power, the woman's agony seemed to lessen.

"Now Diana, it's the best I can do for you," the old lady beside her said in a voice that seemed to echo from the ages.

"So push with all of your strength this time." She stated as she moved to help her in labor, her tone heavy and somber, signifying the severity of the situation.

"AAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Diana's screams pierced the air once more, this time much louder, her suffering unabated. But then, in the midst of her torment, a cry of new life emerged, mingling with her painful screams.

The baby boy was born, and the elderly woman gently cradled him in her arms. A single wave of her hand cleansed the room of any traces of blood or fluids, and then she placed her palm over the baby's chest, invoking a soft glow of light through her palm.

The room seemed to hold its breath as the elderly lady slowly looked over to Diana, her expression that of bittersweetness. "The boy is healthy...for now, thanks to your sacrifice," she said, the last part filled with clear bitterness.

She then placed the boy beside his mother. Amidst her labored breathing, Diana managed a faint smile as she gazed at her newborn son. Tenderness flooded her face as she touched his tiny lips, and the boy responded by reaching for her finger, as if a bond had already formed between them.

But as the weight of what was about to come bore down on her, she slowly moved her gaze, turning to her daughter instead. Holding back tears in her eyes, with a reassuring wave of her hand, she beckoned the little girl to come closer.

"Take care of him in my stead, just as I have cared for you," she uttered softly. "Remember, you will never be alone, for I will always be watching over you," she whispered to her daughter, her words both a promise and a farewell.

As she completed her words, a stream of tears appeared on her cheeks, and she closed her eyes. The room fell silent as Diana's life force waned with passing moments, her breaths becoming fainter and fainter until it ceased altogether.

Finally, the little girl's cries filled the void left behind by her mother's departing spirit, giving grieving echoes to the silent halls.

The old woman gently took the baby into her arms again, while the old man observed the scene from afar, his solemn gaze glimmering with a mixture of wisdom and sorrow in his eyes. With a long sigh, he approached the newborn boy, the child who held within him an enigmatic mana core from the moment he was in his mother's womb, an unheard-of phenomenon in the history of magic.

But it had come at a cost, as it was the same extraordinary power that had made Diana's pregnancy arduous, ultimately leading her to her demise. She had two choices: either giving up on the child or embracing a slow end of herself as giving birth to this boy was a sure way to death.

But being a mother, her choice was obvious, even if he was to oppose it, she had already decided.

The old man studied the child closely, the child that led everything he had ever built astray. He stared at him, his eyes seeking to unravel every mystery the infant's soul seemed to hold.

After a moment of profound contemplation, the old man's eyes gleamed with sudden determination, as if he had made a solemn vow to himself. What it was? Only he seemed to know.

He and the fate that will unveil with time itself.

The old man slowly walked toward the girl, carrying the baby boy in one hand, he put his other hand on the head of the girl and spoke in a firm tone, "Cry as much as you want. Let it all out, Lisa. Because after today you won't have the luxury to even grieve. Your training starts from tomorrow."

Hearing those words, Lisa's sobbing decreased, suddenly she felt a soft pull, as a tiny hand found its way to grab a few strands of her long dissenting hair. She looked at the baby, who was in return looking at her. In that moment something divulged within her and as if a drop of water had sent a ripple through calm water, She felt all her emotions calming down again. She wiped her tears off her cheeks, and she stared at her baby brother, her eyes shining with resolution of her own.

'Take care of him in my stead,' her mother's last words echoed her mind again and with strengthened resolve, she nodded toward the old man. A testament of her will that she too was ready.

The elderly woman moved gracefully towards Diana's lifeless form, pausing beside her bed. Gazing at the inert body, she hesitated momentarily, glancing towards the old man, who nodded firmly in response. His approving nod spurred her to suppress her uncertainty, and she pressed her right hand against Diana's forehead.

Upon contact, a celestial azure glow emanated from her hand, enveloping Diana's entire being. In an instant, her form was consumed by cerulean flames, leaving no trace, not even ashes, in their wake.

The girl and the old man observed the flames without a word. A profound hush enveloped the entire room, a silence so complete that it seemed to echo with the weight of untold peril yet to come.

As Diana's form vanished into ethereal blue flames, each of the onlookers forged resolute commitments, prepared to transcend their individual selves for the convictions that ignited within their spirits.

Little did they fathom that these present resolutions would sculpt the destiny of the entire world in the epochs yet to unfold.