A small, cowardly part of me was relieved when I realised that Carnelia wasn’t present in Jademoon Tower when Silva and I got there. It was only a slight reprieve. I had decided that I would tell Carnelia about my actions and the magical bindings entangling her today, and I would do so, unless I didn’t see her. Or some other major event interrupted it, knowing my luck, we might just get attacked by Lorgar and his friends in an attempt to break my tower. Or something else might happen. Realising that I’d welcome such an attack, as it would give me an excuse to postpone the conversation, wasn’t something I relished. It proved quite decidedly that I could be a bit of a coward, at least when it came to social situations.

  Instead of going out to look for my daughter, I made myself comfortable in the shrine on the ground floor, sitting and meditating. Some might have called what I did praying, as I was seeking to commune with a divine entity, but given that said divine entity and I were essentially the same being, I wasn’t sure it would be appropriate to call my actions a prayer.

  Maybe calling it an attempt at self-reflection would be more appropriate, as I was trying to use the earlier incident with the Mother’s blessing to get a better impression of my divine half, so to speak. If I could somehow offload the binding to one of my divine aspects, it might be a reprieve for Carnelia, simply because prayer and contact with my divine aspects could happen from anywhere. That way, she’d be able to distance herself from me if she wished, making the binding less restrictive. I doubted I’d be able to completely remove the binding, as it was a fundamental part of the glue I had used to patch up the pieces of her shattered Soul, to the point that I wouldn’t be willing to try without very compelling reasons.

  “Mother,” Lia’s voice interrupted my musings before I managed to get far with my divine aspect. “What is going on?” she asked, possibly realising the tension I was suffering from.

  “Carnelia, dear,” I greeted her, my voice wavering a little. “I’m afraid we need to talk.”

  I could immediately see the frown on her face; she could likely feel that this wouldn’t be a pleasant conversation.

  “Sit, please,” I gestured, making a comfortable chair grow from the ground. Then I waited for her to sit down and make herself comfortable, while I was trying to find the right way to open the conversation. I had considered several approaches, but now, here with my daughter, they all felt wrong. Insufficient in a hundred different ways.

  “First of all, you are my daughter. That will never change on my part,” I began, planning to reassure her first, to make sure she knew I wasn’t blaming her for anything, or holding her at fault.

  “How much do you remember about your first days. About the transition from human, to Shattered and into your current form?” I asked, hoping to ease her into the meat of the subject.

  For a moment, she looked confused, then pensive. “I remember bits and pieces from my life as Chantalle. I obviously remember some factual knowledge, language, maths, bits and pieces from my school lessons, things like that. But I wouldn’t be able to tell you the name of my best friend, even memories of my family are only there by association,” she paused, looking at me with a morose expression. “I know who my parents were because I met them after you turned me into this form. As a result, I can add a bit of context to a few scattered memories, allowing me to associate them with family. But that’s pretty much it,” she admitted, the unhappy expression lingering.

  “The time between the Change and meeting you is a blur. I remember burning pain and a sharp, torturous sensation all throughout my body, as if my blood had turned into broken glass and was dragged through my veins, ripping them to shreds bit by bit,” she shuddered, her expression grave, “I don’t think I’d want anyone to experience pain like that it was…” she just shook her head, unable to continue.

  Moving forward, I pulled her into a hug, holding her as her body shook. Once the shaking subsided, I returned to my seat, giving her a bit of time to compose herself.

  Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  “Why are you asking all that, Mother?” Lia asked after a few minutes, her voice giving away just how rattled she was.

  “There is a reason, though I was mainly interested in your transformation into your current form, the time immediately beforehand and afterwards. How much do you remember of that?” I prodded, feeling guilty as it was obvious Lia didn’t enjoy this line of conversation. But I thought it needed to be had if I wanted to give her the context she needed.

  “Not a lot, if I’m being honest,” her eyes were downcast as she admitted that, her shoulders hunched as if she was trying to make herself as small as possible.

  “I see,” I admitted, wanting to curse badly at the realisation. Lia’s mental state might have been reinforced by the introduction of my blood and magic into her system, making it possible that her mind was only anchored and solidified into its current form thanks to the binding tying her to me.

  “Please remember that you’re my daughter and I wouldn’t have it any other way,” I reinforced my earlier reminder, noticing a look of dread on her face, “But that wasn’t always the case. Before the change, I had no intention of ever becoming a Mother. It had never been a part of my life plan, especially as I didn’t have any interest in males. It wasn’t something I considered, ever.” I let out a sigh, giving her a wan smile.

  “Then the change happened, civilisation broke apart, and the concept of motherhood faded even further, if that was possible. If I didn’t want to become a mother with the convenience and security of modern society, becoming a mother in the broken world that the change left behind was even less appealing,” I paused, noticing a frown on her face.

  “So what happened then? Why did you help me?” she asked, her voice giving away that she dreaded the answer.

  “Honestly?” I paused, letting my rhetorical question linger for a moment, “Curiosity was a big part. You know just how intensely curious I am, how I’m willing to try almost anything, even if it might be foolish. So, trying to turn someone who had almost entirely Shattered back into a functioning being was something I was willing to do.”

  “I never set out to turn you into my daughter, you know?” I admitted, feeling intensely guilty about my actions back then, even if I had no idea if there was a better way to accomplish what I had. “Initially, I wanted a sentient weapon, a bodyguard that would be able to hold the Shattered back while I was working my magic. Silva was able to partially fill that role, but her lack of opposable thumbs limited her significantly.”

  Carnelia just stared at me, her eyes wide in disbelief.

  “Sadly, we have to talk about this, as I recently realised that part of my actions back then had lingering consequences I never considered,” I explained, “You see, part of the magic I used to reforge your broken soul was a binding, allowing me to use my blood and essence, my Astral Power, to restore your mind.”

  “A binding?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

  “Yes, a binding that has become part of your fundamental being. I doubt I’d be able to break the binding without harming you severely. I don’t think you would survive as the person you are now,” I admitted.

  “Why are you telling me this?” she demanded, a bit of anger now replacing the dread she felt earlier.

  “Because I realised it had been relevant, though only thanks to the benefits of hindsight,” I told her, desperately trying to keep my voice steady.

  “I only put the different pieces together when we returned here, and you told me about the issues you had with the other Samantha. About your inability to leave the tower, causing you to fall into what I’d call a depression. That’s when I started to put things together,” I let out a sigh, noticing that my daughter was barely looking at me; instead, she was staring through me, her eyes distant.

  “So, what now?” she asked, “You say I’m your daughter, but am I? Or am I just a weapon that tried to take on a life of her own? Dancing to strings I can’t even see?”

  Her voice was harsh, making me flinch just a little.

  “You might not have started out as my daughter, just as I have not given birth to Luna. But I consider both of you as my daughters,” I tried to reassure her, only to hear her scoff harshly.

  “I’ve been trying to find a way to sever your bindings; failing that, I’m looking for a way to disentangle them so you can be free, even with the bindings still in place. But it’s difficult and slow-going,” I admitted, “I just couldn’t keep this from you. You deserved to know, even if I can’t make things right just yet.”

  “Thank you for telling me,” she whispered before rising from the seat I had conjured earlier. “Give me a bit of time, please,” she added, then she disappeared back out into the night.

  This could have gone a lot better.