The True Ascension
Chapter 33: Spirals of Affection and Possession

Chapter 33: Spirals of Affection and Possession

Aziz remained seated under the tree for a few more minutes, staring at the starry sky. The two pale moons shone silently, watching him with a distant, almost mocking serenity. He let out a deep sigh, running his hand over his face, trying to organize his thoughts — but all he managed to do was laugh at himself.

"Being kissed twice in such a short time... it’s much more than my entire past life, hahaha."

He remembered the taste of Sofia’s lips — sweet, soft, gentle. Then came the fierce heat of Zia’s kiss, so fiery and possessive. His mind was still tangled with everything that had happened, but one thing was certain: that night would never be forgotten.

His body still vibrated silently with the echoes of those moments, and even if he tried to convince himself that he was just a boy dealing with confusing feelings, deep down he knew it was more than that. There was something in Zia’s kiss... something that went beyond desire. A need? A promise? Or a veiled threat? He still couldn’t say.

He stood up with some difficulty, as if the ground itself was holding him back for a moment longer, and began to walk toward the garden’s exit, which now rested in an almost respectful silence. As he walked, his eyes swept the surroundings illuminated by small magical lights floating like enchanted fireflies. They created a soft contrast with the darkness of the night sky, drawing subtly ethereal shapes on the walls of living stone.

Entering the corridors after leaving the garden behind, each of his steps echoed on the smooth floor like a reminder that, even in such a grand palace, nights tend to be quieter. It was a lonely sound. Almost ceremonial.

When he finally arrived at the door to his room, Aziz paused for a moment. The hallway was empty, and the air there seemed denser. He reached for the doorknob — but before touching it, he felt an inexplicable chill run down his spine.

For a moment, he hesitated.

There was no sound coming from inside. Nothing. Not the crackle of a candle, not the whisper of the wind. But a strange sense of alertness invaded him, as if he were about to cross an invisible border, a thin line between the familiar and the unknown.

He swallowed dryly, straightening his posture. Took a deep breath.

"It’s just exhaustion," he told himself in a low voice, trying to convince his body to move forward.

And then he turned the doorknob.

As he pushed the door open, the first thing he saw was a familiar silhouette. Astrid. His mother was standing with her back to him, facing the window, contemplating the night sky. The gentle wind made her long white hair move like slow tides, and for a moment, Aziz felt a fleeting comfort. That image... was a symbol of home.

But something was... strange.

He couldn’t say what, he just felt it — like a premonition rooted in his soul. Her presence was intense. Oppressive. As if the entire room breathed to the rhythm of her figure.

Then he heard the voice.

"Come in, my young master...," said the voice with melancholic sweetness. "Or do you intend to stand there until dawn?"

Aziz turned his gaze from his mother’s figure and finally noticed another presence in the room. Isis. She was sitting on the bed, her legs crossed in an elegant and sensual manner, watching him with a subtle smile on her lips. Her gaze sparkled like that of an ancient sphinx, full of secrets and hidden intentions. The entire scene felt staged, like a silent theater set up especially for him.

"Alright... I’m coming in," Aziz replied with a nearly imperceptible nod.

After entering, he closed the door behind him and advanced slowly. His steps were careful, as if walking on glass. The feeling that something was wrong only grew. Astrid, who had always welcomed him with affection and tenderness, hadn’t even looked at him since he entered. The absence of that familiar warmth was uncomfortable... disconcerting.

He stopped in the middle of the room, standing like a defendant awaiting judgment. Darkness gathered in the corners, dense, vibrating silently.

After a while of just looking at his mother’s figure, he finally asked:

"Mom...? Are you okay?"

Silence.

The tension took over the air, thick and suffocating. Time seemed to drag on until, slowly, Astrid turned around.

The dim lighting of the room cast shadows on her face, and the silver light of the two moons shaped her silhouette in an almost ethereal way. Aziz couldn’t clearly see her expression — but one thing stood out with absurd clarity.

Her eyes.

Astrid’s beautiful sky-blue eyes were now darker, spinning in deep spirals, like whirlpools at the bottom of an abyssal ocean. They glowed with a supernatural intensity, calling, devouring, consuming everything.

Aziz felt his chest tighten. He tried to look away — but couldn’t. It was as if those eyes had ensnared him, forcing him to face them. He didn’t blink. He didn’t think. He just... felt. He felt more lost the longer he looked into those deep blue orbs.

Time unraveled.

There was no more sound. Not Isis, not the moonlight, not the room itself. Only those eyes. And the void that grew behind them.

And then, finally, Astrid spoke.

"My love...," her voice was soft and viscous, like warm honey dripping down his skin. "Come here and give Mommy a hug."

She opened her arms slowly, like a poisonous flower opening to attract a distracted butterfly.

Aziz tried to resist. Tried to order himself to stay still. But his body... didn’t respond.

One foot moved. Then the other. His heart beat erratically. Each step felt like a deeper dive into a sea from which he didn’t know if he could escape.

Isis said nothing. She just watched him with that same smile — serene, dangerous, expectant.

When he finally got close, he felt the warmth of Astrid’s body. Her familiar scent was intense, almost intoxicating. Like ancient incense burning in his memory. He entered the hug.

Her arms wrapped around him, pulling him to her with a gesture as delicate as it was absolute. Reflexively, he hugged her too — placing his hands on her slim waist.

There was warmth. There was tenderness. But there was also something more.

Something that grew.

The longer he stayed in that embrace, the more Aziz felt like he was being entangled in something invisible. It wasn’t physical — it was emotional, psychic. As if he were being pulled into a webbed trap. As if she were an immense, sacred spider... and he, just a prey that came too close without knowing the danger that awaited.

It was like being inside a dream where everything felt too real, and yet wrong. He didn’t know where he began and where he ended. Was he himself... or just a puppet responding to the suffocating affection of the figure before him?

Then, as if sensing his unease, Astrid loosened the hug — just a little.

Her hands slid down his back until they reached his nape, and she tilted her face.

Now, Aziz could see her completely.

The smile on Astrid’s lips was affectionate... but a little crooked, as if hiding something behind the mask of tenderness. Her eyes still spun in spirals — and now stared directly at him, as if they could read every thought, every fragment of memory, as if nothing could be hidden.

"My dear... my dear...," she whispered like a broken record. "Why did you take so long? Can you answer me?"

Aziz felt his throat dry.

Her voice seemed to touch every corner of his soul. Something inside him whispered that there was more behind that question. That this moment wasn’t just a reunion between mother and son, but the harbinger of something much greater — and much more dangerous.

He opened his mouth, searching for words — any word — but all he found was silence. A heavy, absolute silence. As if even his voice had been captured by those spiral eyes.

And behind him, Isis... smiled even more.

"So then, dear... aren’t you going to tell me why you took so long?" — she insisted, now tightening her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, as if she wanted to merge him into her own body. There was a sweetness in her tone — but it was the kind of sweetness that precedes poison.

Aziz swallowed hard, feeling his breath grow heavy in his chest. For a moment, his mind froze between the impulse to respond and the desire to escape that embrace that, even while welcoming him, also seemed to imprison him.

The dilemma burned inside him.

Tell the truth... or lie?

Making up some excuse, some distraction, a diversion to ease that oppressive tension seemed easy. But when he thought about hiding the truth from Astrid — the woman who gave him another life, who supported him when he was nothing more than a shard of a reincarnated soul — his stomach churned.

It was with her that he learned what it meant to belong. With her, he understood love that doesn’t demand, affection that doesn’t require, an embrace that doesn’t hurt. Astrid was, to him, more than a mother — she was the symbol of everything he never had before.

And now... could he really lie to her?

’Am I really that kind of person?’ he thought, feeling a bitter taste rise in his throat.

A thought rooted deep in his heart whispered: ’If I lie now... I’ll never be able to look at her the same way again.’

He took a deep breath, feeling the air enter like thorns down his throat. He clenched his fists. His silver eyes with bluish hues — shining like water mirrors under the moonlight — lifted to meet his mother’s spiral eyes.

The tension in his body disappeared. Not from calm, but from determination.

"...Mom..."

The voice came out weak, almost trembling, but filled with truth.

"I was in the garden..."

An expectant silence hung in the air.

"...and Sofia and I... we kissed."

The words fell like stones into a calm lake.

Astrid didn’t move, but something in her gaze spun with more intensity, like a whirlpool slowly gaining strength.

Aziz continued, his whole body tense, as if walking on tightropes stretched over abysses.

"And then... Zia showed up. And... we kissed too."

He closed his eyes for a brief second, as if it increased the shame of his words.

"If someone’s to blame, please... blame me. I accept any punishment from you."

He paused briefly, took a deep breath, and added in a firmer tone:

"Even if you get angry... even if you hate me for it. But... I couldn’t lie to you. Not to you, who showed me what love is."

The silence that followed was suffocating. Astrid didn’t respond immediately. But Aziz could feel her arms around his neck tighten slightly — almost imperceptibly — as if holding something that was about to break.

Her expression wasn’t one of anger. But there was something in her eyes, something vast, sharp, and mysterious, that went beyond common understanding. Her lips parted slowly, but no words came yet. What came first... was a sigh. A long, warm sigh that slid through Aziz’s hair as if carrying centuries of emotion.

She pulled back a little, enough to see him better. Her hands were still on him, gentle... but there was a tension under her skin, as if her fingers were fighting the urge to squeeze, to grasp, to mark.

Her smile returned. Slow. Almost tender. But crooked.

"So...," she murmured, her eyes still spinning in hypnotic spirals — "you were kissed... twice?"

Aziz nodded slightly, avoiding blinking.

She tilted her face, gently pressing her forehead to his. The touch was cold, but strange and intimate. Aziz felt her eyelashes brush against his. Astrid’s lips curved again, but now there was something melancholic in them.

"You grew up so fast...," she whispered. "Sometimes I forget you’re no longer my little boy."

She closed her eyes for a second, and when she opened them again, the spiral in her gaze had slightly diminished — but the glow inside them seemed even deeper.

"And yet...," her voice fell like a veil, soft and threatening — "I wonder what those girls saw in you that makes them think they can touch you like that... with such freedom."

Aziz’s heart skipped a beat.

There was jealousy. Yes. But it wasn’t the ordinary jealousy of a mother. It was something denser. More enigmatic. As if, in that moment, Astrid wasn’t speaking only as a mother — but as something that transcended human roles.

He didn’t know what to say. And he didn’t know if he should say anything.

But before he could react, he felt her hands slide over his shoulders, slowly descending to his arms. She embraced him again, this time more firmly, as if protecting him... or dominating him.

"You are mine, Aziz," she murmured, almost inaudible, the sound blending with the wind coming through the window. "Even if the whole world tries to take you from me... you will always be mine."

For a moment, he didn’t know if that was a promise... or a sentence.

And then the silence fell again — and this time, it felt more final.

Behind them, Isis watched everything with a peculiar gleam in her eyes, her body still, but her mind clearly awake. The tension in the room was almost palpable. Something was about to happen.

Something beyond words.

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