Chapter 509: The True Meaning
"I’d refuse no matter what and stop us from entering this world no matter the cost."
Ah.
So she was right.
"No matter what you say... no matter what benefit this world could potentially offer, I would’ve refused, with everything I got," Oathran said.
His voice was still rough, still raw, but it was steadier now.
"If you told me, I..." He reached out and grasped her hand, his calloused fingers wrapping around hers, brushing his knuckle against the curve of her belly. His mist-grey eyes, wet now with tears he was not trying to hide, met hers. "I might never be able to meet Sol..."
Cecilia blinked.
Sol?
"Father God."
Oathran called before Isaiah on the edge of the churning vortex a couple of hours ago, the black leviathan waiting.
"Yes, my child?" Isaiah responded.
"I... have one last question."
"Ask."
Oathran took a deep breath, and then... "What... is the meaning of my name?"
Isaiah tilted his head, his long black hair shifting like a waterfall of ink. One scarred eyebrow rose slightly. "Don’t you already know?"
Oathran nodded, his throat tight. "I do hear from my mother that it was from the Dragon’s ancient language that means ’The Key.’ But..."
He hesitated, and then looked up, meeting the gaze of the god. "Does it have... other meanings...? At all?"
Isaiah’s eyes widened for a moment. Then his scarred lips curved into something that was almost a smile. "I see."
"Yes," the long black-haired god nodded, his deep voice resonating with something that felt like approval. "It means the ’Keyhole of My Soul.’ But not the ’Key’ itself. More like a little hole to see into the soul, so to speak."
Oathran’s breath caught.
The Keyhole of My Soul...
A little hole to see into the soul...
His mother—had she known?
Had she named him with that definition in mind, or had she only known the harsher meaning, the one that had shaped his entire existence?
He would never know.
But it didn’t matter. It was enough.
His name, the name he had carried like an oath, the name that had driven him from his wife and his child and his brothers, had a connection to them after all.
To Cecilia, whose name meant the blind of the altar of heaven, whose true name was Iris, the hollow eye. To Arkai, whose name meant the sun. To Eastiel, whose name meant the eastern star.
Eyes. Sun. Seeing. Light.
His name had always belonged with theirs.
"Sol." Oathran nodded, and a smile spread across his battered face. "We agreed to name the child Sol, if a boy... and Solaria if a girl. But the nickname would be the same."
Sol. The sun. The eye of the sky. The name that tied their family together across every timeline and every world.
A name that would bring light.
"It was... what we were doing when I... remembered our real life," Oathran said quietly, his hand still resting on Cecilia’s belly. "Arkai and Eastiel... they spent hours researching. They wanted it to be perfect. They wanted it to connect to all of us."
He looked up at her, his eyes shining. "They’re going to be good fathers."
Cecilia looked at him, her eyes starting to get watery again.
"And what about you?" she asked whisperingly, then accusatory, "Are you not going to be the baby’s father too?"
Oathran coughed guiltily. "I was wrong, Saintess..."
Cecilia’s eyes faltered. Her lips began to flatten, her eyebrows drawing together in that expression she wore when she was trying very hard not to cry and very hard not to shout and failing at both. "It was my fault... if you don’t want to be a father..."
"I want to!" Oathran rose from the cot so fast his wounds screamed in protest, but he didn’t care. He grasped both of her hands in his. "I-I—"
He sighed, closing his eyes.
"I... I was scared."
More than being scared of the Key being passed down. More than being scared of what his child might become. He was scared of himself.
Of the father he might be.
"I am scared, even now," he said.
What if the child resented him? What if he failed them? What if Cecilia was forced, one day, to kill her own son to save the world... to drive a blade into the heart of the child they had made together, because the Key had passed down and the only way to close the door was to destroy the lock?
"Cecilia... I should’ve been mad you didn’t tell me, but even at that time of my breakdown, I wasn’t mad because of it. I was mad... because you want to give birth to a baby who would... inherit my..."
"And it’s wrong..." Oathran sighed, his shoulders slumping. "It’s wrong... because we’ll find a way to fix it before they inherit it."
"It’s wrong, because..." He squeezed her hand, his knuckles white. "Because I should’ve known you’d find a way to save them. Whatever it is. Even if they do inherit it."
Cecilia looked up at him, her eyes widening. The tears she had been holding back spilled over, tracing silver lines down her cheeks.
"I was wrong... because I doubted that we’d ever be able to fix this—fix me—fix... fix... fuck..." Oathran cursed, his voice cracking. "I... I don’t deserve you... I... I’m fucking unsalvageabl—"
Cecilia suddenly glared at him, stopping him right there.
"I’m sorry," she said, her voice stronger now, steadier. "I’m... sorry for not telling you, and... for bringing you into this world... and... and loving you so hard I never think you’d still think of yourself as unsalvageable after all we’ve done so fa—"
"I’m sorry!" Oathran flinched in fear, his face paling at Cecilia’s sudden rising tone. "I-I-I’m sorry, I was—"
"Also..." He looked down. "I... I’m glad we entered this world..."
He trusted her judgment.
And she was right—again. Just...
"And forgive me... for leaving you," he said, his voice dropping to something barely above a whisper.
It felt inadequate for the magnitude of what he had done. A month of silence and absence. A month of her carrying their child alone.
Then he confessed one more thing. "I was going to find you. After I remembered... after the rage burned itself out... I was going to come back." He paused, his eyes meeting hers. "But then I remembered that I accidentally met Isaiah in the dam incident."
Cecilia’s eyes changed.
"So I looked for him," Oathran said.
Cecilia’s lips parted. He had gone searching for a god, but not to beg for power.
Oathran smiled. "I asked him... about the Key."