a gorgeous white by Heather_anare

230: My dear mother

The sound of the nightly crickets sang pleasantly within the darkness. Petals of different shades glistened as the moonlight bathes their delicate forms. Night has come, and heavy gloom that was visible during the day fades in the evening.

On an empty expansive balcony, a figure swiftly landed on his feet. A chilling wind came to brush his body, but he didn't shiver from the cold. Instead, he found it comforting. Pure white strands glittered under the moonlight. They swayed behind the slender back of the youth, carefully walking towards the closed doors. Moulin felt slightly conflicted when he tried to open the doors.

Locked.

His eyes furrowed. He didn't want to make any noise lest he'd wake his mother. Taking out a pin from his hair, he inserted a tiny pin into the keyhole. Moments after trying to pick the lock, Moulin finally hears a crisp click. A sigh escaped his lips.

Before he opened the doors, he stopped hesitantly.

'Would she sense me? Is she sleeping at this hour? What if she isn't?'

Moulin drew his eyebrows together and shook his head. Just one look. Afterwards, he would leave. Moulin nodded to himself and took in a deep breath before slowly opening the door. There was a creaking sound, but it was faint, and Moulin knew it wasn't enough to wake a slumbering person.

Slowly, he walked inside and left the door slightly open for his escape. His heels met the furred floor. It would feel lovely underneath his soles if he'd bare his feet. His eyes scanned the room, and Moulin remembered the peacefulness his mother's room had always given him. Whenever he visited, it was always delightful. The interior didn't change, he realized, but he didn't pay most of his attention to it.

Walking forward with light steps, he looked like a careless thief striding into an emperor's treasury without care. His eyes were searching, and then they stopped. His gaze locked on the elegant canopy situated before the wall of his north. The gauze-like bed curtains looked especially glamorous yet plain. Just how his mother wanted.

Moulin's stepped stopped. His pupils quivered as he laid his eyes on the sleeping figure at the bed.

Her breaths were steady and faint. Her wavy curls spread out on the soft white pillows. Her hands were clasped on her stomach. Expression, peaceful. It was this scene that would make anyone breathless. If they ignored the signs of the Kron plaguing her body.

Visible black veins sit underneath her skin, decorating her body like a net. Her lips were pale and dry, and she looked as if she hadn't drunk water for weeks. Black veins appeared as they were crawling from her neck up to her cheeks. The sight would make anyone want to step back. But Moulin wouldn't.

Pain pierced his heart. He felt like there were needles inside his gut, pricking holes into his innards. It was as though he was bleeding internally. Moulin fingers trembled as he raised his hand to his mouth. He stifled the sound, daring to escape his lips.

The Kron had no cure. People have yet to find and create it. But will his mother last until it was found?

Moulin was very late. Too late.

Tears pricked the corners of his eyes. His knees felt weak, and he instantly lowered himself and hid his head under his arms. It was cruel. To think that he thought he had finally gotten what he had wished for-a second chance in life, a wonderful family, and a wonderful mother.

There was a price.

He would die thrice and would lose someone important.

Moulin shakes his head with a quivering sob. Honestly... He couldn't even question those freaking gods this world worships.