"Yes, 'Flow-less Alaric,'" Lady Elara repeated with a soft chuckle, shaking her head at the memory.
"It was quite a difficult time for him. But your father, he's a man of incredible resilience. He never gave up. He studied every text, practiced every meditation, even those considered beyond the reach of lesser talents."
She smoothed a stray lock of hair from Elias's forehead, her fingers warm against his skin.
"He persevered, my love. And he succeeded. He finally awakened his Flow, not just as a trickle, but as a mighty river. As well as a powerful trait that gave a new meaning to the mocking name he was called. Now instead of laughs there is reverence when you hear the name 'Alaric the Still'. He is a testament to the immense power he learned to command with such calm."
Elias, despite himself, felt a flicker of grudging respect. He noticed the genuine admiration, almost reverence, in his mother's voice as she spoke of his father. It was clear that to Lady Elara, Alaric wasn't just her husband; he was her world, a testament to the very strength she now saw in their son. He still stubbornly didn't turn his head, but his ears were fully tuned to her words.
"And your father," Lady Elara continued, her voice swelling with pride, "he's not angry about the manor, not at all. He's absolutely delighted. Both of us are. To awaken your Flow so profoundly, and at such a tender age, makes you nothing short of a prodigy, Elias. A true wonder. We will leave no stone unturned, you hear? No master unconsulted, no resource untapped, in helping you realize your full potential." She patted the bed beside her. "Now, come. Your food is getting cold."
Elias sighed dramatically, a performance he hoped would convey youthful reluctance rather than the deep, calculated turmoil churning inside him.
"Yes, Mother," he murmured, slowly rolling over and sliding off the large bed. He allowed her to pull him onto her lap, a surprisingly comforting embrace. She began to feed him the rice pudding, each spoonful warm and sweet. He ate dutifully, the spoon clinking softly against the bowl, allowing his mother to believe her words had soothed his 'guilt'. Lady Elara smiled, genuinely happy that her little boy seemed comforted.
But deep inside, a chilling realization was beginning to crystallize.
In his old life, Ethan had been a voracious reader of fiction, devouring countless novels and comics, using them as a means to escape a reality he despised. He had read about characters with immortality, but even those god-like beings almost always had limitations.
A weakness.
A condition.
Surely, it was against some cosmic rule for Deus to grant him 'true', 'absolute' 'immortality' without a catch. A tiny, grim smile touched Elias's lips, almost imperceptible.
He nearly choked on a spoonful of pudding, and Lady Elara gently rubbed his back, offering him the milk. He swallowed, clearing his throat. Deus had given him a gift, indeed, but one with unwritten rules.
Elias was going to spend eternity figuring them out.