3 A Changed Mother

The crowns of trees rattle softly as they converse with the breeze, their shadows dancing animatedly on the soft grassy ground where I lay. I turn my head to side. A blade of grass was poking my cheek, making it feel itchy, but I do not move regardless.

My eyes skim over the layout of an old wooden cottage amongst the shadows of the gigantic century-old trees, my attention unfaltering as I study the roof, the frames of the window and the porch enclosed by branches and vines as railings.

Voices softly murmur about from inside until a pale-skinned man with golden irises and black symmetrical markings on his face comes out with a charmingly arrogant woman with white hair, and eyes.

Everything about her, except for her tanned skin, was white, including her loose white robe, much to the contrary of the man beside her who was clad in thick black clothing. Except for his head, arms and bare feet, he was wrapped up tightly.

"I don't see why I even have to obtain your permission to anything I want to do, Varedic", the woman arrogantly huffs out, looking quite displeased at the quiet man beside her. A gleam escapes her eyes after reading what the man was thinking. She angrily stares at him. "Aren't I the most knowledgeable of all Satoris? I am the elder; the wisest elder", she emphasizes. "Whatever nonsensical statements they spout do not come near the fact that I am the most astute, what more to dare challenge my authority an—"

All her anger and her words subside in the face of the man's embrace. A phenomenon she has yet to comprehend. A phenomenon that also occurred when me and my sister did the same thing when upset or happy—we weren't a fan of crying, much to Mother's delight.

Truth be told, Tukare and I were not as clueless as we seemed. We knew Mother well, much more than father. Perhaps it was because every time we tried reading Father's mind, all we'd see was endless dancing shadows here and there; something that was hard to comprehend since neither Tukare nor I are full-blooded Wraiths who thrive in the darkness.

The first time we read Mother's mind, she was baffled. It could be because we had her blood but no matter what she did, as long as Tukare touched her hand or forehead, or as long as she unconsciously stared back at me, we would be able to read her emotion and see whatever memory she was currently reminiscing, and she could not mentally block us like she would others. It was her first time to be laid so bare that she felt very apprehensive at first.

She wanted to keep her distance from us. She used to be really furious about it, to the point of her locking herself in her room for days, but Tukare only needed to ball her eyes out for the first time for her to come out again and accept us. It seemed that, to her, Tukare or I crying was like the equivalent of the sun rising at night instead of the moon; an anomaly that countered what she perceived as indisputable facts.

I could vague recall Father's relieved face then. In time, Mother had fully acknowledged us to be her family.

Everything in Mother's mind was so vivid; every emotion having hundreds of glimpses of memories in passing. She could freely talk to us or show us pictures in our minds of the things she has seen and learned. Most of the things and knowledge we've known so far was from Mother. She was both our parent and our teacher, while Father was our trainer in basic combat, abilities control, and life skills like cooking.

Although Mother knew limitless recipes, she lacked the practical skills needed to execute it. Using her mind to control the knife did nothing for her. In short, Mother told Father what to do and Father would be the one to gladly do it.

Sometimes, during our studying breaks, Mother would toss us up in the air with her mind and she would laugh along with us as Tukare and I try to imitate the German-suplex-type of move, which she taught us, in the air. Yet Mother wasn't always as amiable like this.

Mother had wanted to quench her curiosity at the possibility of having a mixed-race baby with other human-kind. She was curious how those dirty disgusting lycan dogs can breed a stronger litter just by diluting their blood and creating half-lycans. Would it be possible for a Satori to gain the same outcome if they tried doing the same with other human-kind? Or will it produce a more inferior existence? Yet she one-sidedly deemed all human-kind inferior in her mind, so what was the use faltering? So what if she created something inferior? It's not like it can make much of a difference—that was her line of thought back then.

Thus, she gave in to her curiosity and ventured the forest of the Wraiths. She had wanted to try creating a child with the blood of the Encantados or Hunters, but although the former was very powerful, they still liked to mingle with other humans in gatherings, irritating her endlessly. Mother always did favor the peace silence brought, over the noise of conversations.

As for the latter, she was pleased with such a good candidate as she could try eradicating the physical weakness of the Satori and enhancing the mental capabilities of the Hunters through the hybrid. Unfortunately, the Hunter-kind had yet to be found. It was as if they vanished one day. She shared with us some of her memories of how Satoris debated about it a lot in her community. She had been on the side of the argument stating that the Hunter-kind still existed yet was hidden somewhere on the continent.

Having crossed out her top two picks, she settled for the third, which were the Wraiths. She hypothesized that since the Wraiths had a similar "controlling" power to that of the Satoris, the child may have a much higher chance of gaining an equal distribution of the parents' powers. The more she thought, the more certain she was that she had made the right decision.

She was used to looking at everything as if it was an experiment.