Ch. 25 - The Hand That Takes
It was just the three of us in the carriage, myself, Enzo, and Marielle. The wheels rattled over the cobblestones as the horses drove us hard.
I sank into meditation, reaching for Mother—goddess Asclepia.
Mother… is Alex still alive?
No answer.
Asclepia was beyond nature. To a worm like me, her thoughts were incomprehensible. She was not so kind as to grant aid simply because I asked.
But she was watching.
She observed what I did.
That alone was enough. Communion with Mother was not dialogue, but silence. Not words, but presence.
And so it was fine.
A parent must eventually die. Yet even without form or voice, they watch the child’s path. And the child left behind spends their life moving forward—without time to reflect, only pressing on, onward, ever onward. In that figure, in time…
My meditation deepened. And there, unmistakably, I felt her presence.