The Return of the Luna Duchess

04 Back in Time

"Mom..."

Keenan's deep voice, one that's filled with hurt and anguish enough to overwhelm my senses and constrict at my heart, swirls, and echoes in my head.

Somehow, while it plays on repeat in my consciousness, I notice that the deep voice becomes lighter and softer for some reason. Not only that, but it seems that the words spoken also become something different, morphing into something else.

"Mom...my...?" the distant and hesitant voice becomes clearer until I can hear the words spoken as if it was real and not as if it is still in my mind.

"Mommy?"

Wait a minute, what did I just think to myself? 'As if it was real'? Does that mean that the voice I'm hearing doesn't seem to belong in the vestiges of my memory anymore and it seems to be the real thing?

It seems like it. I have to go see for myself--wait a minute!

My eyes snap open at that and I immediately close them when searing pain suddenly pierces my head, creeping all over my scalp and poking at my brain.

I groan and wince at the pain.

Just what happened to me?

With my eyes still closed, I tried to use my other senses to get a feel of my surroundings, hoping it'll give me a clue as to where am I and what happened to me.

First off, it seems like I'm lying down on a bed or something soft. Other than that, I know nothing.

Still, I know that something--I just don't know what yet--happened. And it was something big, too. However, it seems I'm still recovering from that 'something' and my memories are taking their time to come back to me.

"...mmy..."

Huh? What's that? Is that someone calling my name?

It doesn't sound like my name, though. However, for some reason, even if I know that the name doesn't sound like mine, I still find myself responding to it.

Like someone calling me that is the most normal thing in the world.

But...why? And what is that even mean? 'Mmy?'

I grimace when all of a sudden, images of my eldest son plunging his sword into his chest come unbidden into my mind.

Ah, yes...I remember that part now.

Olga had ordered to have my youngest killed. Keenan somehow got a whiff of it and confronted her. But when she figured out that her pathetic and pitiful act wouldn't fly with Keenan anymore, she finally showed her true colors.

Despite being the person who played the part of the Mother in his life, Keenan spared no mercy and cut her down so easily.

Maybe it was because Kieran was involved this time. In a way that cost his beloved brother's life.

No matter, though, it still looked like it was so easy for him to do that. It was like he was just swatting an annoying fly and not killing a human being.

Now that I think about it, it wasn't just Keenan easily dispatching Olga, a mother figure in his life, like that that makes him so eerie.

There was something else that happened in that part of my memory...

I swear I saw something on the side of the road back then. I just have to think about what it was and fill in the gaps in my memory.

Focusing and concentrating on that scenario, replaying that scene in my head over and over again, I try to recall what I saw.

A broken carriage lies despondently on the side. Just a couple of feet away from Kieran's still body. It looked to have slashes from something sharp, like a sword.

And just beside that carriage, half-hidden in the darkness, was someone's body...and a severed arm was illuminated from the shadows.

As the memory becomes clearer, the breath freezes in my lungs when I realize it wasn't just someone else's body but--

Oh, Keenan, you...killed 'him'.

I know so because the owner of the arm's hand was wearing a wedding ring. I remember that wedding ring anywhere. I have seen it on my own finger for years and years.

And despite us not having an ideal relationship nor even having normal interactions with each other, somehow, for some reason, we still both manage to keep our rings on our person whenever, wherever.

Even when I died, I guess it was the same for him as well...even when he himself had died.

Oh, Keenan. You killed the Duke! You killed your own father!

And just like that, other memories came pouring in just like before. Like that scenario had been the key to unlocking the other memories that lie dormant in my subconscious.

However, the only difference right now is I can feel pain while those memories came rushing back in.

And that's a lot of pain.

Wait...pain.

I can feel pain? How? Why? Since when?

Didn't I already die and feel nothing? I didn't even get those annoying dark spots in my eyes after that blinding explosion of light before.

So, why now?

Unless...does this mean that I'm now...

Wait. Before anything else, it feels like someone's staring at me.

"Mommy..."

There it was again.

And this point in time, it sounds even clearer than the pristine glasses of water served at the duchy.

It's not the same voice that I had in my mind before. It's not the deep yet cold and emotionless voice I get to hear each and every time we meet back then.

However, I recognize it still.

It's still the same one that was secretly etched into my heart and soul for me to remember and help me get by through the years of loneliness. I treasure that sound of his voice and cherished it despite having the memory being laced with my regret and pain.

But...why am I hearing it right now?

My eyes snap open at a possibility that came unbidden into my mind. I'm grateful that no pain accompanied the action this time.

However, it's when I realize that I hit yet another obstacle in my path.

It feels like my body is frozen stiff that I feel every muscle groan and bone crack at the effort of me trying to move around.

It doesn't hurt, but it doesn't feel comfortable either. Hearing my muscles groan and bones crack like that is something one shouldn't normally be experiencing.

Yet here I am, experiencing it full force.

I don't know what's happening to me right now, like how am I still alive and all that, but I think I'll ponder about it all later.

What's more important is for me to know who's calling me. Or to be more specific, I want to confirm if 'he' really is the one calling me now...or not.

Craning my head to the side, I feel my eyes widen and my vision blur when I finally see the person who's calling me.

"M-mommy...?"

My son. My eldest son. My little Keenan James von Hansen is in the flesh and is years younger than the last time I saw him.

The Keenan standing in front of me right now looks to be a mini version of the Keenan I saw in my head. His towering height of five feet, eleven inches at the age of fifteen, shrunk to a size where his shoulders barely make it past the height of my Queen-sized bed.

However, that's not the only thing that's different for him.

Gone were his stoic and stony expression as well as the piercing coldness in his blue gaze. In its place is a look of bewilderment coupled with a look of curiosity, worry, and a hint of wariness.

He is leagues away from his former self that I--wait...former self?

Hang on, I want to sift through my thoughts and experiences for one second.

I still don't know what happened to me. Like did I really die and I just somehow went back to the past before my death or...all of that was just a dream?

I blink and watch as my eldest son, almost ten years younger than he was last I remembered him, watches me in return.

His piercing blue eyes, the same eye color as mine, seem to glow in the darkness of my room.

And that's when I decided.

If it was, indeed, a dream, then I shouldn't be so hasty and reckless in dismissing it as a mere nonsensical dream.

It was too vivid and too specific to be waved off and considered as something that is only randomly conjured up by your subconscious.

On the other hand, if it WAS not a dream but actually a glimpse of a future that's waiting to happen...

Then all the more reason for me to take action.

Whether my circumstance was the former or the latter, what I just experienced or dreamt about is something that I need to be vigilant about.

I blink and it's when I realize that my son is still standing on the side of my bed, holding something big that looks a little heavy for his small build and stature while I'm still gawking at him like some kind of i***t.

I either have dreamt of the future or regressed back years before my death. Whether if it's the one or the other, it doesn't matter.

What matters right now is that I have been given a gift and had my wish granted at the same time.

A second chance in life to be able to live the life that I wanted, have the family I wanted, and make things right for the family I had taken for granted.

Starting right now, I will become the Mother that I have always yearned to be and I will raise my boys by myself.

Not Olga. Never Olga.

"Uhm..." I rasp, realizing that my throat is so parched but I don't have time to get a drink. "Sweetie," I begin again.

My voice is still hoarse, but I figured it'll do as I slowly push myself up the bed.

From the corner of my eye, I can see him flinch a little. I don't know if it's from me suddenly moving or from the way I called him, I'm not sure.

But it broke my heart all the same.

Even though his cold and unfeeling gaze when he was older hurt, I was already in too deep with me numbing myself. Therefore, the pain I felt wasn't as painful and crippling as the pain I am feeling right now.

It just reminded me that I wasn't and never have been a very good mother to Keenan or to Kieran.

However, now that I am back or I woke up in this day and time, it feels like I went back to square one when it comes to my feelings towards my family.

And this time, I will strive to do better.

Looking at Keenan right now, he looks to be around five years old. Somehow, seeing him at this age made me think of something important but...for the life of me, I can't put a finger as to what it was.

"Is it because you just woke up so suddenly, Mommy?" he asks softly, shifting whatever it is he's holding in the dark.

"Uhm...why did you ask that, baby?" I ask in a gravelly tone, all the while tilting my head to the side.

To my surprise, Keenan flinches in place.

This time it was even more pronounced than the last and he even took a step back. Oh no. He probably thought that I was mad at him because of how I sounded.

Curse my parched and dry throat.

"Mommy's not angry, don't worry," I placate him, putting my hands up in the air to show him that I mean no harm.

I don't recall how I manage to treat my poor baby until he reached this age before but considering how he fears every single move that I am making, I assume that none of it made a good impression on him. Nor did it bring any good memories.

If I want to make things right between me and my family again, I have to start now.

Even if it means feeling the fresh, pricking sensation in my chest as I witness just how much I had scarred Keenan.

As soon as I feel and see his darker silhouette from the dark background of my room start to relax, I start explaining. My voice is still hoarse and rough but I kept my tone light and soft.

"I'm just...not feeling well. But I just wanted to know why you ask me such a thing."

He lowers his head in the dark before those blue eyes of his look up at mine.

"It's just...you are acting so...differently. And..." he looks down again and starts to fidget, shuffling his feet on the carpet as well as shifting his weight from side to side.

"What is it?" I urge him gently.

He hefts what he was holding in his arms. Probably because of the movement, it jostles whatever it was and it stirred.

Not long after that, I finally figured out what--or more specifically--who Keenan was holding.

When Kieran's crying wail fills my room, it was then that I finally remembered what made me think about something important and something big happened when Keenan was five years old.

This...was the day when he started loathing me.

All because I tried to throw Kieran out of the window for disturbing my sleep.