The sun dipped low over the Fourth Branch compound, washing the courtyard stones in amber haze. Jaquan stood barefoot in the training ring behind their quarters, hands behind his back, watching his son fumble through a basic shifting form.
Jaquan had insisted on giving Jalen a few practice pointers. The boy was now at mid-stage Ruby, after all—late-blooming, yes, but still catching up.
Jalen performed each motion with visible effort. Breath controlled, footing precise but imperfect. He fell short on his follow-through, missing his energy cues just enough to draw a slight wince from his father.
He was doing a masterful job of pretending to be average.
Jaquan adjusted Jalen's stance with a light tap to the shin. "Shift the weight forward more."
Jalen nodded obediently. Compliant, serious. A student's discipline is worn like a habit.
But partway through the drill, Jaquan paused.
Something in his gaze shifted—distant, uncertain. He stared at Jalen longer than he should have. Not with suspicion, but with a fragile kind of recognition.
Jalen straightened. "What?"
Jaquan blinked, the moment slipping away. "Nothing," he said. "You just… look like your mother."
That made Jalen still.
He had no memory of her. From the earliest fragments he could call his own, there had only ever been Jaquan. The scent of ink on robes. Warm broth. Quiet, calloused hands patching roof tiles. His father had been his sky and soil.
He'd never asked about the woman who left. Never needed to.
This was the second time Jaquan had mentioned her in fifteen years.
Jalen stood quietly. Then, with careful neutrality: "Do you want to talk about her?"
Jaquan exhaled hard. "I don't," he said. "But I can't be selfish. You deserve to know."
The sun dipped lower.
Jaquan told the story without embellishment.
How she was from the Illume family—one of the Ten Great Families of Vernon. How they'd met at thirteen, when she was still just a branch daughter with little standing. How he loved her, married her when he was seventeen, and how she became pregnant with Jalen soon after.
But a year after his core shattered, she left them behind—without a word, without explanation.
Not long after, with the backing of her parents and the quiet support of several Hewitt elders, she forced him to sign the divorce papers, humiliating him in the eyes of the families. Then, to add insult to injury, she remarried—one of Jaquan's cousins—and fled with him to join a powerful sect on another continent.
Jalen said nothing at first. He'd heard fragments over the years—whispers in servant halls, gossip drifting through the inner courtyards. Her departure didn't bother him. She'd made her choice. That told him everything he needed to know about her character.
But the humiliation of his father?
That, he would never let slide.
Not even if the person was his mother.
He interrupted gently, steering the conversation away. Jaquan nodded, visibly relieved.
They sat together in a quiet stillness. Crickets began to stir near the vine wall. A lantern hummed faintly.
Then, without warning, Jalen turned toward his father and said—not aloud, but with a single, shaped thread of spirit-sense:
"I'm leaving here two months from now."
Jaquan stiffened.
His boy hadn't reached the Sapphire Realm yet. He shouldn't be able to communicate like this—not unless...
"You—"
Jalen raised a hand, laying two fingers across his father's lips before switching fully into telepathic flow.
"I'm sorry I kept it from you. I've been cultivating for a long time. Quietly. I didn't want attention. I didn't want to be seen. But mostly… I wanted you to get strong enough so you'd be able to protect yourself before I left."
Jaquan's jaw tensed. The quiet turned heavier.
Then, the pieces fell into place.
"It was you," he sent slowly. "You're the one who healed me."
"Yes."
"How?"
"Does it matter?" Jalen replied. "You're healed. You're the happiest I've seen you in a long time. That's all that matters."
Jaquan swallowed hard. He knew enough about cultivation to recognize there were things one didn't ask—not even of blood. Secrets guarded lives. Even between kin.
Still, curiosity scratched at the edge of restraint.
But he asked something else instead.
"What realm are you really in?"
"Enlightened Realm."
The words hit him like a thunderclap.
Jaquan had expected Pearl, maybe early Amethyst if the stars aligned. But enlightened?
It was beyond rare. It was unheard of on this continent.
Jaquan's breath caught. Enlightened Realm. Not just talent. Not just potential. His son had already stepped into a realm most cultivators never even glimpsed.
He stared at Jalen in disbelief.
"Are you certain?"
Jalen tilted his head slightly.
"Have I ever lied to you?"
Jaquan gave him a look.
Jalen sighed.
"Okay—aside from pretending to be talentless, faking spirit block, and claiming I fell down a well when I was actually out cultivating… nothing else."
Jaquan barked out a soft, helpless laugh. Then reached across and pinched his son's nose.
"You sly brat."
He pulled him into a rough hug, arms locked with quiet strength.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry that I was so unreliable that you felt like you had to hide everything from me."
Jalen didn't respond immediately.
When he first started cultivating, hiding had been survival. If anyone knew how fast he progressed, they would have questioned it. Dissected it. Envied it.
Or worse—targeted his father to reach him.
Keeping it buried had kept them both safe.
Eventually, the danger faded.
But the habit remained.
He'd hidden for so long…
It became second nature.
And now, as his father finally held him in full understanding, Jalen let it fall away—just for a moment.
He hadn't realized how heavy the secret had become until it was gone. And now, in the hush between them, he felt something he hadn't in years—ease.