I’ve made an effort this year to be more engaged in my children’s lives. One may think of this as something akin to a New Year’s resolution, though it is my understanding that such resolutions are traditionally dedicated to self-indulgent self-improvement, not the intricate and challenging task of nurturing and understanding offspring of such extraordinary and arcane origins. I suppose it has been argued that a child’s progenitor should be engaged in their progenies’ lives. I’m not so sure about all that, but since it is likely that I will need to cohabitate with my offspring for at least another decade, I should get to know them better. Also, it would be prudent to form an alliance with them before their powers become more formidable.
My children’s pedagogue, Ms. Hatchet, only recently returned from her Solstice Holiday when she asked for leave to address the malfeasance of an old charge of hers. This is how it came to be that I was in the Lower Northern Wing, walking to the Alchemical Lab with Typhon. While I made the best use of my time preparing for my upcoming experiments to transmogrify the philosopher's stone into a mechanism that will, if my theories are correct, be able to reflect a mind’s cognitive dissonance as annihilating clarity. I named this theoretical mechanism the Obscura Discordia Glass.
I digress. While my Pagelet and I continued to assemble the necessary materia and apparatae, I feigned interest in Typhon’s activities. He was reading an alchemic tome which he hoped would produce some spectacular effect for his amusement. Since I have chosen to make an effort to engage with my children, I humbled myself to assist him. That and his mutterings suggested a foolish desire to mix and match the formulae in the tome to enhance or combine effects.
The impertinent child.
I made clear that he was to follow each formula as described and not to deviate; that we need to learn the basics of the science before concocting novel elixirs.
I assisted him while my Pagelt attended to the preparations for the experiment. I fetched materia that Typhon could not find and offered tips on mixing and combining them. I consoled patience and was surprised to find that I was enjoying our time together. He was delighted when a miniature forest erupted from the cauldron. We watched the miniature creatures scamper about and even witnessed an arboreal culture building tree huts.
We scrubbed out the cauldron and made a fizzling brew that caused any object dropped into it to revert to its chemical elements in an explosive fashion. He was delighted in the violent roiling from the moisture, and Spiritus Carnis et Caulis broke down in the air.
I knew Ty wanted to see more spectacular effects. I obliged him with a formula of my own creation. I instructed him to record it in the tome, but instead, he just drew rude doodles of me. We mixed the matria, and a storm consumed the lab.
The violent winds and raging lighting caused some damage to the lab, but the child was quite happy and impressed. I felt a sense of satisfaction after this interaction.
He wanted to alter the new formula and naively combine formulae again. I reiterated the need to learn the tried and tested formulae first. I made it clear that it was time to clean up but stated that we could continue tomorrow.
This sent him into one of his rages. He had attempted to assault his progenitor only once and learned that I am always prepared with countermeasures and contingencies against my offspring. Instead of attacking, he stormed off to the Central Tower.
On his way out from the lab, he shouted for Echo, my Pagelete, and demanded his evening Fernat Coco. I immediately countermanded his request. One does not turn against their progenitor, and then receive the benefits of the my hospitality.
He screamed in a rage and ran toward the Central Tower. Echo notified the staff to avoid him for their safety and returned to assist me.
We were nearly finished preparing the experiment when I was notified of an intrusion into my chambers. We finished the attempted transmogrification. After inspecting the Glass and securing it, I went to investigate the disturbance.
I apologize; I can not satisfy your curiosity regarding the Obscura Discordia Glass as I have yet to test it with one of my guests.
Returning to the Central Tower, we found my chamber in shambles. I considered liquidating Typhon, but the retribution from his siblings would prove troublesome even for me. In addition, I can not rule out the possibility that my research will require all three of them.
It seemed to me that the best course of action was to ignore the little monster's temper tantrum. Let his range burn out and address the incident next moonrise. He tried to provoke me, but I kept to my plan. His siblings were nowhere to be seen, surely avoiding the tempest consuming the Central Tower. Every time he yelled at me about the unfair nature of the world and the trauma of missing his evening drink, I calmly retorted that this behavior was not rewarded.
During this time, I kept my appointments with the staff and then set about overseeing the replacement of my sleeping rack, which was destroyed in the tantrum. Ty’s rage eventually wore out, and he sulked to his bed in the vivarium.
That night I awoke to growls of my hounds as he slunk into my chamber. He didn’t say a word. He just slid under my suspended body and curled up as though expecting some parental comfort.
He was still sleeping on the wooden planks while I practiced my morning escapology and freed myself. I stretched and cracked my spine as I tried to relieve the painful knot in my back left by his shoulder. I laid a robe on him before taking my morning ablutions.
- - -
While writing down this story, Typhon entered the parlor and demanded his evening drink be made that morning. I was most displeased and stated as much. He made to enter Echo’s chamber, presumably to secure the ingredients to his missed drink. I inquired if he thought he was righteous in his actions.
He did not answer.
I inquired what he thought might be the consequences of his actions.
He did not answer the question.
I dismissed Echo and spoke the words of power to awaken The Nameless One. The shadow essence inside Typhon stirred, and his mind witnessed the horrors of the other part of his heritage.
The message was received, and he gave up his attempts.
I learned that Ms. Hatchet returned from her expedition to reinforce old lessons, and I placed Typhon back in her capable hands.
The rest of the day passed without incident.
That evening, as we gathered for dinner, a sense of normalcy returned to our home. In a gesture of reconciliation, I asked Echo to prepare Typhon’s cherished Fernet Coco.
Typhon murmured a soft “Thank you,” his voice tinged with a mix of relief and residual frustration. There was a fleeting expression of embarrassment, a subtle acknowledgment of the day's tumultuous events.
Reflecting on the day, I was struck by the unpredictable and emotional draining effort of raising children. Their immature minds, especially those with need of special consideration such as my offspring, navigate a world that often overwhelms them, their emotions as fluctuating as the winds. In one moment, they might view us as obstacles, challenging our decisions with the fierce determination of youthful rebellion. Yet, in another, they seek solace in our presence, a safe harbor in their stormy seas.
Our day had been a testament to this. The morning's conflict and evening's calm coexisted, a reminder of the resilience and adaptability both progeny and progenitor must possess. As I watched Typhon quietly sip his drink, I realized that each tumultuous day was also an opportunity for him to grow and for me to uncover the deep secret of reality hidden within my...
My children.
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