To His Hell and Back

Chapter 526: Decision of Mothers-I

Arabella didn’t have many expectations as she closed her eyes, letting herself drift into the faint memory. But when she opened them again, the world had shifted.

She was no longer in her room, nor in the present moment— she stood behind a tree, its bark rough beneath her palms, and looked down at a young man sprawled over one of its branches.

His eyes were sharp, vicious, as if he had just seen an enemy appear from nowhere. His small hands gripped the branch tightly, knuckles white with tension.

But when his gaze landed on her, a small girl, the tension in his shoulders eased, and the hardness in his eyes softened.

The young man’s fierce vigilance gave way to something more human, more vulnerable. It was their first meeting, Arabella realized, the memory rushing back in pieces like a shattered mirror.

She remembered, too, the day her parents had fought.

The sky had opened in a relentless downpour, and the sound of rain hitting the roof had mingled with the sound of their angry voices.

Her mother had screamed, her father had shouted, and in the middle of the chaos, little Ariel had pressed herself to Arabella’s side, covering her ears with small, trembling hands, trying to shield her from the cruel words being thrown back and forth.

Words of blame, of regret, of selfishness, words that a child should never have to hear.

Until suddenly, silence had fallen.

The kind of unnatural silence that makes the skin crawl, heavy and thick with anticipation. Arabella, young and curious, had peeked toward the door, trying to understand what had silenced the storm.

But before she could see clearly, a pair of small hands, delicate and cold as ice, had covered her eyes.

It was Ariel’s fingers.

The touch sent a shiver down Arabella’s spine. Though she could not see her sister’s face, she could feel the panic, the fear that had made Ariel’s hands tremble. Arabella froze, the world narrowing to a single, horrifying sensation.

Then came the metallic scent, iron, and the sound of blood spilling softly onto the floor. Her breath caught in her throat, ragged and shallow. She could feel the terror radiating from Ariel, sharp enough to cut through her own chest.

Then, abruptly, the door clicked shut.

Morning came, pale and hesitant, and Arabella awoke to find her mother lying beside her.

Miraculously, there was no gash on her head, no mark from the fall that had seemed so cruel the night before. Her mother’s smile was gentle, serene, the kind that could calm storms, the kind that had always made Ariel’s tears fall.

Her mother reached out her hand toward her, but Arabella only stared, silence choking her voice. She could not yet reconcile the terror she had felt with the calm of the morning.

"Why are you here?" Arabella whispered, her voice small, fragile, innocent as a newborn’s question.

The woman in front of her froze, wide-eyed, caught off guard by the innocence and clarity of that question.

"Jullie," she called.

Her mother— or the figure who had taken her mother’s place— didn’t answer. Stunned in place.

Ariel turned toward her, confusion written plainly across her young face, but eventually, she moved forward and hugged their mother once more. And Jullie... Jullie’s eyes met Arabella’s. The smile that curved her lips was not one of joy. It was sad, fractured, a smile born of someone broken who had forgotten how to repair herself.

Arabella remembered now, sharply, the conversations she had shared with Jullie before she had assumed her mother’s place. How it had happened during their first meeting and how Jullie who looked like a young man had rather spoken in such a beautiful voice, sounding so much like a beautiful singer.

"Don’t you have a house...?" Little Arabella asked, her small hands clutching to Jullie as Jullie helped her walked out of the forest in the midst of darkness. The fact that the child was still outside in such a dark night without anyone finding her made Jullie to reflect on the world.

"What about you?"

Jullie had asked gently but the girl not knowing her pity spoke with eagerness, "Over there! We can see it from here." she had pointed to one of the house that looked too run down for a family to live in, lit with just a single torch.

"You can’t go back home?" Little Arabella asked again.

"I can..." Jullie replied with hesitation, "I don’t want to go home yet."

"I know that feeling..." Arabella agreed, "Sometimes I... don’t want to go home too. Papa and mama..." Arabella’s hands clutched tighter to Jullie’s clothes. "They fight often at night. If they see me, they will be even angrier so I don’t want to go home. But if I don’t go home sister will be worried for me. She will be alone."

"You have a sister," Jullie said with a small smile. "I used to have a brother. I treated him as one."

Arabella was too young to understand why Jullie had said "treated".

"I realized then he wasn’t the person I thought he was." Jullie stared at the sky for a moment, "Being betrayed hurts but not knowing that everything was fake hurts even more. I only found out how disgusting love could be then too."

That night, little Arabella who couldn’t understood anything was dropped by Jullie to her house. She didn’t say a single word, only listening to what Jullie has to say as she noticed that after she had finished her words, Jullie would breathe out lighter, looking more relieved than usual.

The upcoming days, Arabella found herself wandering through the forest more often than not, the soft rustle of leaves beneath her feet and the distant calls of birds forming the soundtrack to her thoughts. Jullie would appear beside her, moving quietly, speaking only when she felt the words could be trusted to a child’s ears. Slowly, Jullie began to share stories of her old "home," though there was a hesitation in her voice, a reluctance that made it clear she had no desire to return.

She spoke of people she had once been close to, faces Arabella could barely picture, lives that seemed distant yet vivid through Jullie’s recollection. But among all the memories, there was always mention of one figure— her "brother." It was clear that no matter the topic, he lingered at the edges of every thought, every sentence.

Just like any other day, as the sun filtered through the canopy and painted dappled light on the forest floor, Jullie’s voice came softly, almost a whisper.

"But Brother had another dream. He wants power. Do you know what power could do to you, Bella?"

Arabella’s young face turned toward her, puffy and milky-cheeked from sleep or perhaps worry, her wide eyes earnest. "Strong! It can protect you."

Jullie shook her head slowly, a shadow crossing her features. "Not only protect. Remember this, Bella. Sometimes, power can not only protect someone but endanger them."

Arabella’s brow furrowed in confusion. "But... strong is good."

Jullie’s eyes darkened, and she knelt slightly to meet Arabella’s gaze. "But power can make you forget everything around you. It can make you think that the strength you hold will make anyone bow to you. But... it’s a shame. Brother only wanted to be loved. He thought he was abandoned by Lady Circe because he didn’t have enough power, like Lord Atlas did. But that’s wrong... it was never about power. It was love between them. Lady Circe... toward him, she only felt pity."

Arabella tilted her head, trying to understand the weight behind Jullie’s words. Her mind, still that of a child, struggled to grasp such complicated truths. She nodded politely, pretending she understood, careful not to show disinterest, because she sensed the seriousness in Jullie’s tone. But in truth, nothing truly settled in her mind, the ideas too vast and heavy for her youthful brain.

Her heart began to race with nervousness. What if Jullie stopped talking because Arabella could not follow? What if she had already lost the trust of someone who had shared so much? Summoning all her courage, Arabella raised her small hand and spoke with as much bravery as she could muster, her voice trembling slightly yet firm.

"Are you... worried for your brother, Jullie?"

The words seemed to hang in the air. Jullie froze, her breath catching, and then shook her head violently, as if the question had cut through some barrier she hadn’t realized was there.

"But you sound like you do..." Arabella pointed out while fiddling with her fingers, "I sometimes acts like I don’t care when I fight with Ariel... but I do care about her. I keep thinking and talking about her. I hope that she would be alright even when we fight. I think you too."

Hearing that, Jullie’s face showed a great troubled expression and seeing that face, Arabella looked at her before going quiet a little.

"I maybe do."

Jullie finally admit.

"I hope he changes."

Then the memories disappeared from Arabella’s eyes. She reached out her hands, trying to grab whatever was left but those memories all turn into shards, shards she couldn’t reach to grab. As she tried to hold it, tried to grab it, more memories disappeared until only one stayed on her small palms.

She pulled her hand to her chest, her eyes staring at what was left and saw that it was a rainy day again.

This time she was more mature.

Jullie had pretended to be their mother for a few years but the only one who noticed the difference was only Arabella.

Eventually though, she had treated Jullie like her own mother. She never called "Jullie" by her name anymore, always calling her as "mama" like Ariel did.

Jullie would always hug her and pretended to be her mother so perfectly.

All that time, Arabella never knew what kind of feeling Jullie had felt as she pretended to be someone she wasn’t.