After that night when he had dinner with the family, Atticus hadn't been able to get a good night's sleep.
The realization that seventeen years had truly passed weighed on him, filling him with guilt for enjoying his life in this world while wondering how his mother on Earth must be feeling.
It felt wrong. Yet, deep down, he knew his mother would want the best for him.
But then, a thought crept in that frightened him even more: she might have moved on. It had been seventeen years, after all, and if she had managed to find peace, it would be best for her.
But the idea of his mother forgetting him gnawed at him. It felt selfish, but he couldn't shake the feeling.
To escape these thoughts, Atticus trained. This was the only thing that seemed to clear his mind. While the Ravenstein family and the entire human domain were preparing for his birthday celebration, he secluded himself in the advanced training room, immersing himself in mastering the new paragon art he had obtained.
