Yami

Chapter 41: MOMS

The woman's word, "Panna," echoed in my ears, a melody both unfamiliar and strangely resonant. My mind reeled, grappling with the surreal scene before me. The monstrous griffin had dissolved, replaced by this ethereal being who seemed to recognize me by a name not my own.

"Mom" I stammered, the sword heavy and foreign in my hand.

The word "Mom" escaped my lips, a desperate plea for a connection to a woman who'd existed only in faded photographs and the tear-stained stories whispered by relatives. My childhood memories were a tapestry woven with the gaping hole left by my mother's sudden death. It was a constant ache, a dull throb that intensified with every milestone, every birthday, every achievement I wished I could share with her. This ethereal being, the guardian, looked so much like the woman in those photographs, the resemblance uncanny. But logic screamed at me. My mother was gone. A car accident, they'd said, had snatched her away, leaving behind a void that no amount of time or consolation could fill.

A gasp tore from my throat, echoing through the clearing dominated by the Pool of Winds. My vision blurred for a moment, the iridescent water shimmering like a mirage. Then the image solidified. Standing beside the woman who claimed to be my mother, materialized out of the swirling mist, was another woman. Her face, etched with familiar lines and the laughter I only knew from a blurred memory, was unmistakable. Badi Mom. Ruhaan's mother, a woman who had vanished from our lives alongside my own mother all those years ago.

Before I could unleash the tirade simmering within, the woman who resembled my mother spoke. Her voice, though gentle, held the weight of untold years. "Yami.." I cut her before she even began.

"Are you really my mother and Badi Mom?" The question hammered in my head, demanding an answer. "Yes," the woman who was a griffin just a couple minutes ago affirmed, her voice strained with emotion. "And you are alive?" I pressed, needing clarification on their existence after the supposed accident. "Yes," my mom replied, her voice barely a whisper. "Did Dad and Bade Papa know?" I questioned, the hurt of their absence a fresh wound. "No," she mumbled, her voice laced with guilt, the weight of their lie heavy on her shoulders.

The air crackled with a tension so thick it felt like a physical barrier. Fury, hot and molten, bubbled up within me, threatening to spill over in a torrent of accusations. They were here, these ethereal beings who resembled the mothers we'd lost. Ruhaan, Harsh, and I – just kids who craved a mother's embrace, a bedtime story, a shoulder to cry on in the crushing loneliness that followed their disappearance.

My mother. Badi Mom. Alive all this time? The revelation slammed into me, momentarily pushing aside the fury that simmered just beneath the surface. The resemblance in their faces, the echo of Mom's smile in the guardian's features – it defied the impossible.

"Wait," I said, my voice raspy with disbelief. "The car accident... it was all a lie?"

My mother's eyes welled up. "A necessary one, Yami," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "We were chosen to guard the Pool of Winds. It's a sacred duty, a lifelong commitment we couldn't shirk. Leaving you... it was the hardest thing we ever did."

Badi Mom stepped forward, a tear rolling down her cheek. "We watched you grow from afar, filled with pride and longing."she explained, her voice a mere whisper, laced with a tremor of regret.

Fury erupted from me. "Why would you call me Panna? And what do you mean by watching us? You chose this — you chose this pool of crap over us? "I spat, the word laced with bitterness. "Is that all you did? While we grappled with the loss of mothers, you lived a secret life, abandoning your children?"

A memory flickered in my mind, a fleeting image from my last birthday. Two women, their faces eerily familiar, standing at the end of the crowd, gathered for my party. A wave of joy on my face, only to be replaced by crushing disappointment when they vanished as quickly as they appeared.