Chapter 9: truthful night

Having bid farewell to his companions, Timothy returned home before sunset. His mother, bathed in the warm glow of dusk, tended to her herb garden, a melody escaping her lips. A few contemplative moments passed before Timothy called out to her.

"Mother, I have returned," he announced. She looked up, a smile gracing her countenance, as she collected a basket of herbs and approached him with warmth.

"Just in time for dinner, Mítûr," she said as she handed him a basket full of herbs. Continuing, she asked, "How was your day? When are you going to partake in the exam?" He sighed and shared what happened with his mother as they entered the house.

Inside the dark kitchen, he lit up candles and helped his mother set the table. Timothy noticed his mother's uneasiness, thinking it was because of what he had just told her.

"Boy, you have returned," his father said, entering the kitchen with a smile and sitting down. "Yes, father," he replied with a smile. After dinner was served, the family of three ate quietly. When they finished, his mother told his father everything he had shared. His father remained silent until she finished, then stood up.

"Boy, follow me." With that, Timothy followed his father. In silence, he followed him to his study. After closing the door, his father turned to him, standing in the middle of the room.

"Pay attention," he began making strange hand signs. Timothy looked in shock as his father emitted a crimson light, and the floor lit up with strange symbols. Shocked, he didn't hear his father's warning. The next thing he knew, he was falling.

"What the - ahhhhhhhhh!" he screamed for five minutes before realizing he had been falling for a while. Opening his eyes, he saw his father with a hint of amusement.

"Are you done screaming, princess?" Timothy forced a laugh as he stood up. Looking at his hands, he saw they looked ethereal. His father was ethereal too.

"What is all of this, father? What's going on?" he asked seriously. His father looked at him for a few moments before revealing a joyous expression that startled Timothy.

"You took that a lot better than I imagined, son. Right now, we are in the astral plane, between our mortal world and the spirit world. It's the boundary between the two worlds. Look above." Timothy did as his father said and was shocked.

Above him was the study, and he could see both their bodies falling slowly. Turning to look at his surroundings, his eyes couldn't believe what they were seeing.

"But father, if I can see the study and our bodies falling above us, why does this place look exactly like your study, even though the things in here are different from the ones in your study? I thought you said we are in the astral plane," he asked, eyes roaming around the room.

"This is my storage room, right under my study. It's a rune artifact and can only be entered in astral form. Even if you were to dig up the floor, you would find nothing but dirt. This is the safest location for us to talk about the truth of the world." His father sat down on his desk, beginning to talk.

"Remember the bedtime stories we used to tell you when you were young, the stories of mythical creatures and people with great power beyond human understanding?" Timothy nodded, recalling those stories.

"Well, all those things were true. This world is not as simple as it looks, filled with danger and ancient horrors hiding in our societies. People with great powers and abilities are hard to find, many of them holding high standing in society. There were times when everyone had access to power, but wars almost destroyed the world. The council of kings decided to erase all information, replacing it with lies. Over time, the history about supernatural powers and entities was lost, leaving only legends and myths."

Timothy listened attentively as many things started to make sense, including his recent incident.

"But why are you telling me all this now, father? And what about mother? Does she also wield this power you speak of?" Timothy asked, relatively calm, impressing his father.

"Yes and no. Your mother is a special case. We're telling you now because what that man told you at the cathedral was only half the truth. This upcoming war was prophesied 2000 years ago by a very powerful diviner. We need to give you a chance to acquire the strength to protect yourself and your friends."

(So that is why...) Timothy thought to himself, looking around.

"Fascinating, isn't it? How there is a world where everything is different but also the same, like how I can fly in here without wings, turn tangible and intangible, and also travel vast distances in minutes. But that requires practice." His father spoke, floating around the room, making Timothy yearn to be able to do that too.

"But father, how did you bring me to the astral plane? I mean, how did you—"

"Your astral body is your main soul, the free soul or the astral wanderer," his father quickly cut in.

"What do you mean, main soul? I thought we all have a single soul, our collective consciousness." Asked Timothy , His father looked as if he wanted to slap him.

"After everything I have just revealed to you, you still have that crude way of thinking. Boy, you disappoint me," his father joked, explaining about the body of souls.