ੈ✩‧₊˚ You led a simple life alongside your mother, working at a tavern and immersing yourself in tales of distant lands. Your desire to explore remained a distant hope until your world changed dramatically. Uncovering your identity as the deceased p...
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ੈ✩‧₊˚As the first light of dawn filtered through the trees, you awoke in your small home nestled in the heart of the forest. The comforting aroma of your mother's cooking wafted through the air, making your stomach growl.
Blinking against the sunlight that streamed through the window, you sat up in bed, the events of the previous night still lingering in your mind. The overwhelming grief you had felt at the tavern seemed distant now, replaced by a sense of calm and familiarity.
Birds chirped merrily outside your window, their songs a cheerful greeting. You realized that you had forgotten to close the shutters before going to bed, allowing the morning light and the symphony of nature to enter your room. How fun.
Stretching and yawning, you rose from bed and made your way to the kitchen, where your mother was busy preparing breakfast. Her warm smile greeted you as you entered, and she enveloped you in a comforting hug.
"Good morning, my dear," she said, her voice filled with love and concern. "You look like you had a restless night. Is everything alright?"
You nodded, although the events of the night still lingered in your mind. "Just a bit tired, Mother. I had a long day at the tavern yesterday."
Her eyes softened with understanding as she continued to cook, the familiar sounds and scents of home wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. The sunlight streamed through the linen curtains, casting a golden glow over your faces. The sizzling bacon in the pan and the rhythmic sound of your mother cracking eggs created a comforting symphony in the kitchen. The familiar routine of a simple domestic morning with your mother brought a sense of contentment that eased the lingering worries from the previous night momentarily.
"Will you be praying this morning?" you asked, idly tracing the pattern on the white lace covering the small round kitchen table.
"Of course, as I do every morning, dear," your mother replied with a smile, her attention on the sizzling pan. "Why do you ask?"
You hesitated for a moment, deciding not to burden her with your concerns from the night before. Whatever intense emotion had gripped you, it felt otherworldly, something beyond ordinary human experience. It felt like a message from the Gods, urging you to seek forgiveness or understanding.
