Azriel Capoue - The secrets of Al

Chapter 05

Aunt Liz patiently waited at the table until I had finished every morsel on my plate. It was truly remarkable how patient she was, considering my rather peculiar eating habits – even I found them tiresome at times. She lingered until I had finished, her visage radiating a distinct delight in observing my repast.
Speaking of patience, I should have realized at that juncture that Aunt Liz was the paragon of patience – a woman who waited for my awakening for eight long years. She tended to me unwaveringly, day in and day out, though there were no signs of my revival on the horizon. According to them, my breaths were barely perceptible, still, she committed herself to this selfless duty. Frankly, I can't fathom why. True, she was a virtuous and remarkable woman, but why would she extend herself to such lengths for just anyone, and for eight long years?
Aunt Liz worked at the local Infirmary as a nurse, where my father had brought me after the drowning incident. He had departed that night to fetch my mother and Azra, but never returned. The subsequent morning brought grim tidings: the Capoue family had been ruthlessly murdered, from the father down to the child. Rumors circulated that the murderer or murderers had abducted the slain child's twin, me. Aunt Liz found herself in a quandary. She wished to inform the towners of my safety, although "safe" might not be the precise term, as I hadn't opened my eyes after drowning. However, she harbored suspicions that this might be a ruse devised by the perpetrators to discover my location and complete their malevolent deed. Trusting her instincts, and for my sake, she fled the town with her daughter Mirabel. She fled for me.
What could impel someone to undertake such a Herculean endeavor?
I resented living in a world where my family was absent. I fervently wished I had perished alongside them, or better yet, never awakened. Nevertheless, I cherished what Aunt Liz had done for me. Deep gratitude, concealed beneath my inner turmoil. I may have had these conflicting emotions, but I would never voice them out... at least not to her hearing.
I kept my gaze upon Aunt Liz as she diligently rinsed the dishes, her back to me. I propelled myself from the dining table, reliant upon my beloved shillelagh. Its devotion, albeit seemingly biased, supported me on my unsteady legs, and for that, I harbored no grievances. It cherished my legs and facilitated my mobility, but the same could not be said for my hands, especially the one that held it. The pressure it exerted on the palms caused exquisite pain. Yes, I bear my own weight upon it, but a respite would not be unwarranted. A mere few minutes of exertion left my hand clenching with difficulty. Nonetheless, it served its purpose.
I walked to her side, observing the smile that graced her face. I squinted my eyes, and my own lips curved in kind.
"Have you always been like this?" I inquired.
She continued rinsing, wearing her smile with a distant air, appearing almost absentminded. And she was.

"Aunt Liz?" I gently tapped her shoulder. "Huh?" She turned to gaze at me. "Azriel? When did you get here?"
"Well, that calculation might require some complex mathematical formulas, but relying on my intuition... I would venture to say I arrived here... perhaps, a millennium ago?"
Aunt Liz erupted into laughter; her eyes moist with mirth. I had never considered myself particularly humorous until that moment. I toyed with the idea of a career as a professional fool, but my dignity restrained me.
"Am I truly that amusing? That wasn't even funny..." I inquired. "Well, I found your remark rather amusing, dear..."
"Ha... I was asking... Have you always been this way?" I persisted. "This way? What do you mean?"
"Well, since I woke up, you hardly seem to stop smiling. Even when you appeared absentminded a moment ago, you were still smiling. Or could it be that you're a little... unbalanced up there?" I said and pointed the side of my head sarcastically.
This time, her laughter was even more unrestrained. I gaped at her, perplexed by her hearty response. I hadn't intended to be humorous, yet her laughter suggested otherwise.
Perhaps it was the duty of a jester not to take their own jests to heart. After all, how could they recount them otherwise?
Aunt Liz eventually regained her composure. She dabbed at the corners of her eyes.
"Azriel, that was quite the jest," she finally said, wiping the corners of her eyes. "Hmm well, I can't say I've always been this cheerful, though I can't deny that I've always had a sunny disposition. But this level of happiness is new, somewhat."
I nodded, eager to hear more.
"Now, my happiness... much of it, I must credit to you." "To me?" I squinted.
"Yes, to you. We endured the uncertain wait for your awakening, a duration spanning eight years. Our hopes were the sole sustenance of our patience, and, miraculously, they bore fruit. That's why I've so happy."
I remained silent, struck by astonishment. I was at a loss for words, my thoughts in disarray. Aunt Liz was truly an angel, a personal guardian of sorts, albeit shared with Mira.
I was deeply moved. My wishes still remained unchanged though, but I resolved never to voice my desire for a different fate, one in which I'd perished alongside my parents, or never woken at all. Aunt Liz had invested a prodigious amount of care and devotion during my slumber, and I wouldn't shatter her heart with such sentiments. My feelings might persist, but they would remain unspoken.