Chapter 511: The patriarch’s order
Her lips curled faintly where Kain couldn’t see. "And if I do, my son-in-law will save me, won’t he?"
The words landed like a heavy stones. Kain’s shoulders stiffened, and his head lowered, as if the weight of her reminder was too much to bear.
He knew. Everyone knew.
Rael’s seed was weak. The runes had confirmed it, and the Elder’s words had made it final. It meant the curse—this damn, unyielding curse that had gripped the village for generations—would remain. Their saviour, the boy of prophecy, was not yet born.
His jaw clenched, the silence stretching, heavy and suffocating. More than anyone else, he also understood how hollow encouragement could be. He had lived long enough to see women whisper prayers and men spill their strength, only to face the same unchanging fate. Hope, in his eyes, had become a useless thing—nothing but a fragile thread that snapped whenever the curse reminded them of its cruelty.
"Mother," he finally said, his voice low, defeated, "I will do all I can... but even I cannot bend destiny."
Her hand slid gently over Kain’s. "Destiny is not always as fixed as you think, Kain," she murmured. "Sometimes... it just needs a little push."
She slowly turned to face him, her smile barely hidden as she saw his widening eyes.
"Mo... mother," Kain stammered, his voice breaking under disbelief. "What... what happened to you?"
His gaze swept over her—her face, it was no longer filled by wrinkles. Her skin glowed, smooth and radiant, as though years had melted away overnight. Her hair, once white and dull, now shone with a deep luster, not a single strand of white left in sight.
And then his eyes dropped.
Her stomach.
Kain could feel his breath freeze in his throat, choking him where he stood. But she just smiled, her hands caressing her belly with utmost love and care.
"Kain..." she whispered softly, "this is the son of prophecy. He has graced me—my womb."
Silence.
A crushing silence, so loud it screamed in Kain’s ears. His heart thundered violently, his thoughts colliding against one another until his very body trembled with the weight of it.
His mind told him this was impossible, but what he was seeing, the truth in front of him was very much real. The son of prophecy... here? Already?
He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t even breathe properly.
Minutes stretched into an eternity, the silence between them almost unbearable. Kain tried but no words came at first. His lips parted, closed, then finally—his voice broke through.
"But... mother... how?" His breathing quickened. "And... does Annie... does she know about this?"
Rael’s grandmother did not answer immediately. Instead, she reached out, taking his trembling hands and guiding them onto her belly.
Kain tensed at first—but then he felt it. A faint, rhythmic pulse beneath his palms. The warmth of something stirring beneath her skin spread into his hands, into his arms before seeping straight into his heart.
It was real. Not a dream.
The chaotic mess inside him slowly dimmed, replaced by a strange calmness. His breathing steadied, and he whispered:
"Mother..."
Her gaze softened, as though she had expected this moment. "Kain," she whispered back, her hand covering his, "I saw a dream. Not just any dream—but a vision sent by the patriarch of our bloodline... the man who once defied the Almighty Creator."
Kain’s eyes widened. "What—? You mean... he came into your dreams? The patriarch himself?"
She nodded slowly, her eyes lost in something nostalgic. "Yes," she answered. "He came to me. He apologized, Kain—apologized for the curse that has haunted our blood, our wombs, our seeds, for generations. And then..."
Her hand slid back to her belly, caressing it lovingly.
"...he left me with this boy. A child of his blessing. A life that will grow strong, and one day, help remove this curse."
Kain’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. Before he even realized it, a smile formed on his lips. "So... we finally have hope now," he whispered, his eyes watering slightly.
Memories began to surge—faces of women crying in despair after barren births, children born weak only to die before their first winters, the endless lectures of the Elders reminding them all of the curse that had shackled their bloodline for generations. Each memory was like a knife twisting in his chest.
He didn’t know what to feel.
Only a day ago, the result of the test had planted despair into the hearts of everyone, telling them the curse would linger for yet more generations. He had accepted it, and somehow, just a day after, he was being told that the womb before him carried the cure.
It wasn’t that Kain didn’t believe her—no, the moment his eyes had fallen on her swollen belly, he already knew something extraordinary had taken place. The initial rush of confusion and shock slowly melted, replaced by a flicker of excitement.
He leaned in closer, his hands trembling slightly as they pressed firmer onto her stomach.
"Mother... what did the Patriarch say?" he whispered, his eyes now practically sparkling.
Rael’s grandmother let a soft, nostalgic smile grace her lips. "Well... first, he was a handsome man, I have to give him that. More royal and radiant than any I have ever seen."
She chuckled lightly. "He spoke to me of his younger years—how beautiful the Mother of Creation was, how her presence blinded him, how her allure caused all this misfortune."
Her tone then shifted suddenly, the warmth of her smile fading into something serious.
"But then... he warned me. He said there is only one way for this child to grow healthy, strong, and fast enough to fulfill the prophecy."
Kain leaned forward, listening intently as if his life depended on it.
"What... what is it, Mother?"
Her face grew even more grave. "He said... in the family where this child grows, a mother must conceive the child of her own son."
Her eyes lingered on Kain, studying him, waiting for the horror, for disgust or denial to play on his face. Yet nothing came. His expression was unreadable.