Chapter 1
I picked a solitary petal from the withered flower and watched as it danced in the early morning breeze. It was a stark contrast to the vibrant blossoms that once adorned the branches of the ancient tree, a silent reminder of the changing seasons. The village square was quiet, with the early light casting long shadows across the cobblestone. Her eyes followed the petal's dance, lost in thought, until the sudden clang of the blacksmith's hammer shattered the silence.
Blossom had been searching for Ocean since the moon was high in the night sky. Her heart raced as she thought of her friend, her mind reeling with fear. Ocean had always been a free spirit, but she had never been gone this long before. Blossom knew she had to find her, to make sure she was safe. The air had the scent of rain-soaked earth and the distant aroma of her mother's herb garden, but none of it could distract her from the urgency of her mission.
Her boots echoed on the damp stones as she approached the tavern, where Sider and Rose were known to frequent. She hadn't seen them since their last argument, and the memory of their cold glares still stung. The wooden door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit room with a few early patrons nursing their drinks. The warmth from the hearth was a stark contrast to the chilly morning outside. The smoky haze was thick enough to taste, but I couldn't see any sign of them.

My stomach tightened as I stepped inside, the eyes of the patrons briefly flickering in her direction before returning to their own conversations. She approached the bar, the polished surface reflecting the flickering firelight. The barkeep, a burly man with a thick beard, raised an eyebrow but said nothing as she leaned in and whispered her question. "Seen Sider or Rose?" His expression remained unreadable, but he jerked his head towards the back corner.
Her heart pounding, she moved through the room, her eyes searching the shadows. They were there, huddled over a table, their voices a mix of hushed whispers and sharp laughter. Sider looked up, his icy blue eyes meeting hers with a look that sent a shiver down her spine. Rose's eyes narrowed, and she leaned back in her chair, a smug smile playing on her lips. Blossom took a deep breath, steeling herself for the confrontation she knew was coming. She had to find out if they knew anything about Ocean's disappearance.
The moment she was close enough, she slammed her hand on the table, making the mugs jump. "What have you two done with Ocean?" she demanded, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. Sider's smirk grew wider, and he leaned back, crossing his arms. "Why should we tell you anything?" he sneered. "You're just the herb-girl with a dead dad and a crazy mother."
The barkeep's eyes flicked to them, but he returned to his work, sensing the tension in the air. Blossom felt the sting of his words, but she didn't let it show. "Bigger mouth than brains, Sider? No wonder you rely on me for explanations."
Rose leaned forward, her emerald eyes gleaming. "We haven't done anything to her," she said sweetly, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "But if she's gone, maybe she finally realized what a burden you are." Sider chuckled, but there was a glint in his eye that told her he knew more than he was letting on.
Ignoring the barb, I pressed on. "You really think insulting me makes you look tough? Just makes you look like the sad excuse for a person that you are."

The air grew colder, and she knew she had pushed them too far. Sider stood, towering over her. "You always were a mouthy little thing," he said, his voice dangerously low. "But you're barking up the wrong tree today, Blossom."
"If I'm barking up the wrong tree, then you must be lost in the forest of irrelevance."
Rose's smile grew colder. "We're not the ones hiding secrets," she spat. "Your precious Ocean probably just realized she doesn't need you anymore."
"If Ocean doesn't need me, then I guess that explains why I'm swimming in a sea of success while you're drowning in jealousy." I spat back.
Sider's fist slammed on the table, making the mugs rattle. "You don't know what you're talking about!" he bellowed. His cheeks were flushed with anger, and his eyes burned with a fury she hadn't seen before.
Rose put a hand on his arm, her touch seeming to calm him. "Let's go," she murmured, her eyes still on Blossom. "We have better things to do than waste our time with her."
The two of them stood and began to walk away, but not before Sider threw one last look over his shoulder. "If you know what's good for you, you'll drop this," he said, his voice a low growl.
"What's good for me? Not taking advice from someone who doesn't even know how to upgrade their own operating system!"
Their footsteps faded into the background as they left the tavern. I felt a mix of anger and fear. They knew something, I could feel it. But getting them to talk was like trying to squeeze juice from a rock. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. The smell of the tavern—stale beer and roasting meat—was suddenly overwhelming.
The barkeep slid a mug of warm cider towards her. "Drink this," he said gruffly. "On the house."
Surprised, she took the mug, her trembling hands wrapping around the warmth it offered. "Thank you," I murmured, taking a sip. The sweetness coated her tongue, the warmth spreading through me.
                                               ────── 〔✿〕──────

My mother was still brewing herbs when I got home, the cottage filled with the familiar scent of mint and lavender. The cauldron bubbled over the low fire, sending up plumes of steam that danced in the soft light filtering through the windows. The room was warm, a stark contrast to the coldness she had faced in the tavern.
"Come, sit," her mother said without looking up, her gentle voice cutting through the silence. Blossom's mother, Willow, had always been a comforting presence, her kind eyes and warm smile a balm to any wound. She patted the chair beside her.
l took a seat. "I didn't find anything," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "They didn't tell me anything."
My mother looked up, her expression filled with concern. "Did you speak with Sider and Rose?"
"Yes," she replied, her tone flat. "They were as cold as ever. They said they haven't seen Ocean."
Willow's eyes searched hers, looking for the truth beneath the words. "But you don't believe them," she said, more of a statement than a question.
I sighed, "No, I don't. There was something in their eyes, a secret they're hiding."
Her mother's hand paused in its stirring, and she turned to face her daughter fully. "Blossom, be careful. Those two are not to be trusted. They've always had a spiteful streak, especially towards you."
"I know," I respond, my voice tight with frustration. "But I have to find Ocean. I can't just sit here and do nothing."
Her mother's gaze softened. "I know you do. But you must be wise in your quest. Sometimes, the answers we seek are not found in the places we expect."
my mother's hand rested on mines, the warmth seeping into her cold skin. "You have the heart of your father, Blossom. Strong and true. Use it to guide you."
The warmth of the cottage followed her as she stepped out into the crisp morning air, the scent of her mother's herbs lingering on her clothes. The village square was bustling now, with people going about their daily routines, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched. The search for Ocean had only just begun, and she knew that the path ahead was fraught with challenges she could only begin to imagine.

With a new sense of determination, I headed towards the place where she and Ocean used to hang out as children—a small clearing in the forest where a sparkling stream met a waterfall. It was our secret haven, a place where they could escape the cruel whispers and sneers of the village. The trees grew tall and close here, the foliage thick and lush. The sound of the waterfall grew louder as she approached, the sight of the clearing bringing a bittersweet smile to her face.
The clearing looked just as it had the last time she'd been there, untouched by the outside world. The smooth rocks where they'd sit and share their secrets were still warm from the sun. The waterfall's mist kissed her cheeks, bringing with it a faint scent of earth and moss. This was where she felt closest to Ocean, where she could almost hear her laughter echoing through the trees.
As I sat down, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to clear my mind. The sound of the water was soothing, the gentle patter of raindrops a lullaby that had sung her to sleep countless times. It was here that she felt most connected to the world around her, to the magic that pulsed just beneath the surface.
The leaves rustled, and I opened her eyes to find a small, shivering fox standing at the edge of the clearing, its fur a brilliant shade of blue. It looked at her with wide, curious eyes before trotting closer, tail wagging.
The fox was unlike any she had seen before, its eyes glowing faintly with an inner light. It sat beside her, nudging her hand with its cold, wet nose. "What are you?" she whispered, reaching out to stroke its fur.
The fox's eyes grew brighter, and it leaned into her touch, purring like a cat.
"Well, I've got things to do okay." I whisper." Goodbye"
I go back to the village with the fox following me. The villagers stared as I passed, whispers trailing in my wake. I ignored them, focusing on the task at hand. The fox stayed by my side, a silent companion in my quest.
As she reached the outskirts of the village, she turned to the fox. "Thank you for the company, but I need to do this alone." The fox's eyes dimmed, but it nodded before disappearing into the trees.
With the fox gone, I felt a sudden loneliness wash over , but I pushed it aside. I had to find Ocean, and I wouldn't rest until I did. The path ahead was still uncertain, but I had a new ally, and I felt a flicker of hope in my chest.

The village square was empty, the stalls closed for the day. The cobblestones were slick with rain, and the smell of wet earth filled the air. I had to get information from someone, anyone who might know where Ocean had gone.
The cobbler, Mr. Thornbush, was closing up his shop. He looked up as I approached, his eyes widening slightly. "Blossom," he said, his voice tentative. "What brings you out in this weather?"
"I'm looking for Ocean," she said, her voice firm. "Do you know anything?"
"Not at the moment."
I stepped closer, my eyes searching his. "Please, Mr. Thornbush. Anything at all could help."
He sighed heavily, wiping his hands on his apron. "I'm sorry but I don't"
Her stomach growled, a reminder that she had skipped lunch in her desperation. Defeated, she trudged home, the rain seeping into her boots. As she approached the cottage, the smell of roasting vegetables and fresh bread wafted out, making her stomach rumble louder. She pushed open the door, the warmth enveloping her like a hug.
Her mother looked up from the stew pot, her eyes filled with worry. "You found nothing?"
"No," she said, her voice small. "I talked to everyone I could think of, but no one has seen her."
Willow's eyes searched hers, then she nodded. "Come, sit," she said, pointing to the table. "You need to eat."
Dinner was quiet, the only sounds the clinking of silverware against plates and the crackling of the fire. Her mother's stew was warm and comforting, the taste of home and love in every bite. It filled her stomach, but the emptiness inside remained.
After dinner, she helped her mother clean up, the rhythm of their movements a silent dance of comfort. They didn't speak much, but the weight of unspoken words hung heavy in the air.

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. "I'm going to bed," I murmured, the exhaustion of the day catching up to me.
My mother nodded, her eyes sad. "Rest well, my love. Perhaps tomorrow will bring answers."
The bed was cold and uninviting, the sheets feeling like a prison around me. My thoughts raced, images of Ocean in trouble playing out in her mind like a tragic play. She needed to find her, to save her from whatever fate had taken her.
The rain pattered against the window, a soothing lullaby that usually sent me to sleep. But tonight, it was a taunting reminder of the world outside, of the friends lost and enemies made.
My eyes drifted shut, and I tried to find peace in the darkness. But it was elusive, slipping through my grasp like water through my fingers. My mind was too busy conjuring scenarios, too busy worrying about what tomorrow would bring.
As I lie there, I made a silent promise to Ocean that I would find her, no matter what it took. The rain grew louder, the wind picking up, and I burrowed deeper into the blankets, seeking solace in the warmth. But sleep remained a fickle creature, teasing me with its elusive embrace.
                                                  Chapter 2
The next morning, the rain had stopped, leaving the world fresh and clean. The sun peeked through the clouds, casting a soft glow over the village. I woke up early, the resolve from the night before still strong. I had a class to attend, but my mind was elsewhere.
I pulled on my boots and grabbed my quiver and bow, the familiar weight comforting in my hands. Archery was the first class of the day, and it was something I'd always enjoyed. It was a chance to escape the whispers and judgments of the villagers, to be just Blossom, the girl with the bow, not the girl with the dead father and the crazy mother.
When I arrived at the archery range, the sight before me was unexpected. Everyone was in line, one by one, focused intently on the targets before them. Their expressions were a mix of determination and fear. The usually bustling group was eerily silent, the only sound the twang of bowstrings and the thunk of arrows hitting their marks.
Master Archer Castor, a stern man with a perpetual frown, noticed my arrival and called me over. "Blossom," he said, his voice gruff. "We're practicing for the upcoming tournament. Your mother said you wouldn't be coming today."
"I know," I replied, my voice steady. "But I need to be here."
He studied me for a moment before nodding. "You may join," he said, pointing to the end of the line. "But be warned, we have much to cover."
The first round of arrows was shot, and the sound of them hitting their targets was like a symphony of disappointment. Most of the arrows fell short or wide, but one by one, they landed with varying degrees of accuracy. All eyes turned to me as I stepped up to the line. I took a deep breath, focusing on the target, and let the arrow fly.
It soared through the air, a silent promise to Ocean, and hit the bullseye with a satisfying thwack. The crowd gasped, and I felt a small spark of pride flare in my chest. Sider's face contorted in disbelief, and Rose's eyes narrowed. But I ignored them, focusing instead on the task at hand.
The second round began, and I shot another arrow, watching as it joined the first, perfectly centered. The crowd murmured, their whispers of doubt replaced with a newfound respect.
Master Castor's frown softened into a rare smile. "Good shot," he said, his voice filled with admiration. "You have a true gift."
The class continued, but the mood had shifted. I was no longer just the girl looking for her friend; I was the archer who hit her targets when no one else could. The whispers grew quieter, and the glances less hostile.
As the lesson ended, I couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment. Maybe, just maybe, I had earned a bit of their respect. It was a small victory in the grand scheme of things, but it was a victory nonetheless.
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Next was swords class, and I approached the training area with a newfound confidence. The swords were heavy in my hand, but I knew I had to be prepared for anything. I had to be ready for the dangers that lay ahead.
Master-at-Arms Oakleaf was a formidable woman, her muscles rippling beneath her leather armor. She looked me up and down, her expression unreadable. "You're here for a reason, I assume," she said, her voice low and gruff.
The class began, and she put us through our paces, teaching us the basics of sword fighting. Sweat dripped down my face, and my arms ached, but I pushed through.
Sider and Rose watched from the sidelines, their expressions unreadable. I ignored them, focusing on the movements, the rhythm of the swords clashing a metallic dance that filled the air.
As the class progressed, I found myself paired with Sider for a sparring match. His eyes gleamed with malice, and I knew he wasn't going to hold back. But I was ready.
Our swords met with a clang that echoed through the clearing, the impact vibrating up my arms. We danced around each other, our movements a deadly ballet. Each strike was met with a parry, each thrust with a block.
But something was different about him today. His movements were more calculated, more precise. It was as if he had been practicing in secret, waiting for the perfect moment to show his true skill.
I had to be better, had to be stronger.
The match went on, neither of us giving an inch. The villagers watched, their whispers dying down as the tension grew. It was just me and Sider, our swords singing a duet of steel on steel.
Then, in a sudden move, he disarmed me, the wooden sword flying from my hand. I stumbled back, shock etched on my face. The crowd gasped, and for a moment, I felt like the weak little girl they had always seen me as.
But I wouldn't let that be the end. I picked up the sword with renewed determination, my eyes never leaving his. "Is that all you've got?" I taunted.
Sider's smirk grew wider, and he lunged again. This time, I was ready. I ducked and spun, my sword flashing through the air. It connected with his, knocking it aside, and I saw the surprise in his eyes.
The match continued, our swords a blur of motion. But I could feel the shift in the air, the tide turning in my favor. And with each strike, I grew more confident, more determined.
Finally, with a grunt of effort, I disarmed him, the sword clattering to the ground. The villagers erupted into applause, and for the first time in a long time, I felt like I had earned something.
I held out my hand to help him up, but he slapped it away, his eyes burning with a newfound respect. "You've changed, Blossom," he said, his voice tight.
"We all have," I replied, my own voice firm. "But that doesn't mean we can't change again."

The tension between us was palpable as we walked back to the village, the silence heavy with unspoken words. But I knew that the fight had changed something, had cracked the icy shell that had formed around us.
As we approached the tavern, I saw Rose waiting outside, her arms crossed over her chest. "What's the matter?" she sneered. "Couldn't handle a little competition?"
I stepped closer to her, my eyes flashing with defiance. "This isn't about competition," I said, my voice calm. 
"You think you're so much better than us," she spat, her hand flying to the hilt of her dagger. "But you're just a little girl playing in the big leagues."
Before I could react, she drew her blade and lunged at me. The world slowed down as the cold steel sliced through the air, and I felt a sharp pain in my arm. I stumbled back, blood seeping through my sleeve.
"This isn't fair," she screamed, her eyes wild with anger. "You always get everything you want!"
Her words stung almost as much as the cut on my arm. I could feel the warmth of my blood, sticky and wet, as it trickled down to my hand.
I stand up and grab my knife." I don't! I lost my father and many friends!" I scream. I throw my knife at her with all my might. Time slows down as the blade slices through the air, aiming straight for her stomach. She gasps, her eyes wide with shock and fear.

Sider's eyes went wide with horror as he saw the knife embedded in Rose's stomach. He rushed to her side, his hands trembling as he tried to pull it out. "No," he choked out, his voice thick with pain.
But it was too late. The blade had done its work, and she crumpled to the ground, a pool of blood spreading beneath her.
The villagers had gathered around us, their faces a mix of shock and fear. I looked down at my hand, the blood from her wound mingling with my own.
Suddenly, a warmth began to spread through me, and the pain in my arm disappeared. The wound sealed itself, leaving no trace of the battle that had just occurred. The whispers grew louder, the villagers looking at me with a newfound terror.
I had always known I had a bit of magic in me, a gift from my mother. But I had never used it like this before. It was a power I didn't fully understand, and I knew it could be dangerous.
Sider looked up at me. "What have you done!"
"I didn't mean to," I said, my voice shaking. "But she attacked me first, but I can heal!"
He stared at me for a moment, then turned back to Rose, his hands red with her blood. "You can what?"
"I can heal," I repeated, more firmly this time. "Let me try."
But Sider was already shaking his head, his eyes wild with panic. "No, she needs a real healer," he said, scooping her up in his arms. "We're taking her to your mother."
The cobblestone streets blurred as he ran through the village, the weight of his decision heavy on his shoulders. He knew that Willow had the power to help, but he also knew that she might not be willing to after everything that had happened between them.
Sider burst into the cottage, the door slamming against the wall. "Willow," he called out, his voice filled with desperation. "Rose needs you."
Her mother looked up from her herbs, her eyes filled with shock at the sight of the blood-soaked Sider. "What happened?" she demanded, dropping her work and rushing over.
He laid Rose gently on the table, her eyes closed, her breathing shallow. "It was an accident," he said, his voice cracking. "We were fighting, and she... she just... "
"Blossom," Willow finished, her voice cold. She took in the scene before her, her gaze lingering on the knife still embedded in Rose's stomach. "You brought her here?"
"She's dying," Sider pleaded. "You have to help her."
Willow's eyes met mine, and she saw the truth in them. "Get out," she said, her voice low and dangerous. 
The warmth of the cottage was replaced by the cold reality of the situation. We had gone too far, and now someone was paying the price.
I stepped back, my heart racing. "But you cant!" I protested. "You can't just let her die."
"I will not help someone who tries to harm my daughter," she said, her voice final. "Not after everything you've done."
Sider's face fell, the gravity of the situation sinking in. "Please," he begged. "We didn't mean for this to happen."
But Willow was unyielding. "I cannot help those who wish to do us harm," she said, her eyes never leaving mine. "Take her to the village healer."
The door slammed shut behind them, leaving me alone in the cottage. The room felt smaller, the walls closing in around me. I looked down at my blood-stained clothes, the guilt weighing me down like a heavy stone.
What had I done?
                                                    Chapter 3
I woke up in bed covered in a layer of blanket and sweat. My heart raced and my arm throbbed with pain.

For a moment, I allowed myself to believe it was all a dream, a nightmare conjured by my troubled mind. But the sticky residue of blood on my fingers and the dull ache in my arm told a different story.
The cottage was quiet, the only sound the crackling of the fire. I pushed myself out of bed, my legs wobbly beneath me. The events of the day before crashed over me like a wave, the weight of my actions pressing down on me.
I stumbled into the kitchen, the scent of roasting herbs filling the air. My mother was at the stove, her back to me. She didn't turn as I entered, but I could feel her tension, a palpable force in the room.
"Mother," I whispered, my voice thick with unshed tears. "I didn't mean to..."
"You didn't mean to what?" she said, her voice devoid of emotion. "You didn't mean to fight? You didn't mean to use your magic to aim at Rose?"
"I didn't mean to hurt her," I said, my voice breaking. "I just wanted to find Ocean."
Willow sighed, setting down her spoon. She turned to face me, her eyes filled with a mix of sadness and disappointment. "You have a gift, Blossom," she said. "But it's not a weapon to be used in anger."
"I know," I choked out, the reality of the situation hitting me like a blow to the chest. "I just... I lost control."
"Control is what separates us from the animals," she said, her voice gentle. "And sometimes, from our enemies."
She looked at me for a long moment, then nodded. "You need to apologize to Sider," she said, her voice firm. "And to Rose, if she'll have you."
The thought of facing them was terrifying, but I knew she was right. I had to make amends for what I'd done. "Okay," I murmured.
                                                  ────── 〔✿〕──────

I found Sider's house, a small cottage on the outskirts of town. The door was open, and I could see him inside, tending to a fire. He looked up as I approached.
"I came to apologize," I said, my voice shaking. "I never wanted this to happen."
Sider's expression was stony, his eyes cold. "Do you think an apology will change anything?"
I took a deep breath, steeling myself. "Could be," I said. "And it's a start."
He didn't move, just stared at me with an unreadable expression. "Rose doesn't forgive you," he said, his voice flat. "And neither do I."
The words hit me like a sledgehammer. "But..." I began, but he cut me off.
"You should go," he said, turning back to the fire. "You're not welcome here."
"You know what? If I said anything I should be sorry for to you guys, I'm glad!" I respond" I tried and you guys rejected it."
I turned to leave, the door slamming behind me. The sun had set, casting long shadows across the village. The air was thick with the scent of rain, and I could feel the beginnings of a storm in my chest.
My mind raced as I walked through the deserted streets. What had happened to us? We were once inseparable, but now, we were worlds apart.
                                                              
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I make my way home, my heart heavy with the weight of the day's events. As I approached our cottage, I noticed something was off. The lights were out, and the herb garden was untended.
My stomach twisted with dread. "Mother?" I called out, pushing open the door.
The room was cold and empty, the usual warmth of her presence absent. Panic began to set in. Where was she? Had she gone out looking for me? Or was it something else?
I searched the cottage, calling her name, but she was nowhere to be found. Her basket of herbs lay discarded on the floor, the smell of crushed lavender filling the room.
My heart pounded in my chest, the silence deafening. This wasn't like her. She was always here, waiting for me, ready with a warm embrace and soothing words.
I sat down at the kitchen table, my head in my hands. The only sound was the ticking of the clock, each second echoing like a death knell.
And then, I remembered the journal. My father's journal, tucked away in my room, filled with his thoughts and memories. It had been years since I had read it.
I raced to my room, my heart in my throat. The journal was where I had left it, hidden beneath my pillow. I pulled it out, the leather cover worn and cracked.
Flipping through the pages, I found his last entry. It was written in a shaky hand, the ink smudged as if from tears. Then I heard the door creak open, and my mother's soft footsteps on the wooden floor.
"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice tired.
I looked up, the journal clutched to my chest. "I was just reading," I said, the words catching in my throat.
Her eyes fell to the open pages, and she sighed. "That book makes me sad," she said, gently taking it from my hands. "Your father was a good man, but his story is filled with pain."
I nodded, understanding. "I know," I said. "But it's also filled with love and hope."
She looked at me for a long moment, then nodded. "You're right," she said, her voice filled with a sad smile. "But for now, let's leave the past in the past."
The journal was taken from me, and with it, the last piece of my father. But I knew I couldn't dwell on it. 
                                                          ────── 〔✿〕──────
I decided to take a walk in the forest to clear my head. The moon was high in the sky, casting a silver glow through the trees. The usual sounds of the night were muted, as if the forest itself was holding its breath.
As I walked, I felt a strange sensation, like eyes on me. I spun around, my hand on the hilt of my dagger, but there was nothing there. Just the shadows playing tricks on me.
I heard a whimper in the distance, and my instincts kicked in. I followed the sound until I found a small, injured fawn, its leg caught in a hunter's trap.
Without hesitation, I crouched down beside it, my hand glowing with the warmth of my magic. As I reached out to heal it, the feeling of being watched grew stronger.
I looked around, but all I could see were the glowing eyes of the animals in the forest, all of them watching me with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine.
The fawn's leg mended before my eyes, and it scampered away, leaving me alone with my thoughts. The eyes in the darkness remained, unblinking, judging.
Back in my room, I lay in bed, the images of the day replaying in my mind. The warmth of the fawn's fur, the coldness of Sider's stare, the emptiness of my mother's eyes.
I knew I had to find Ocean, to make things right. But the forest had shown me that I wasn't the only one looking for answers. And I had a feeling that some of those watching eyes didn't wish me well.
                                                            Chapter 4
That night, I dreamt of Ocean, her eyes wide with fear, calling out to me from the depths of the sea. The waves crashed around her, pulling her under, and I was powerless to save her.
I woke up with a start, my heart racing. The room was dark, the moon a mere sliver in the sky. I threw off the covers and went to the window, pushing it open to let in the cool night air.
The village was quiet, the only sounds the distant hoot of an owl and the rustle of leaves. I took a deep breath, trying to shake off the feeling of dread that clung to me like a second skin. I went back to bed but couldn't fall asleep.
Instead, I thought about my mother's words, about leaving the past in the past. But how could I do that when the past was all I had?
Ocean had been my anchor, my best friend, and now she was gone. And no matter how much I tried to move on, I was stuck in the same cycle of anger and regret.
                                                            ────── 〔✿〕──────
Despite yesterdays exhausting night I still got up for school.

As we sat in class, the teacher, Mrs. Meadowsweet, began her lecture on the herbs of forgetfulness. She spoke of their power to ease pain and sorrow, to let go of the past. "But," she cautioned, "like all magic, it comes with a price."
My mind drifted as she talked about the delicate balance between memory and pain, about the cost of forgetting. Was that what I needed? To forget all the hurt and anger that had driven me to this point?
I glanced over at Sider and Rose, sitting together in the back of the class. They didn't look at me, but I could feel their anger, a tangible force that made the air around them crackle.
The bell rang, jolting me out of my thoughts. As the class filed out, I hung back, hoping to catch a glimpse of them. But they were gone, vanished into the throngs of students.
I walked to the herb garden, the place where we had all been happy once. The plants looked different in the harsh light of day, less like friends and more like strangers.
I picked a sprig of rosemary, the scent of remembrance strong in my nose. I crushed it in my hand, feeling the fragility of the leaves, the way they crumbled so easily.
Would I crumble too, if I forgot everything? Would I become a ghost of myself, haunting the halls of the village without purpose?

The hunting class was next, and I was eager to prove myself. But as I stepped into the archery range, my heart sank. Sider was there, his bow in hand, his eyes cold.
Mrs. Meadowsweet paired us up, and we took our places, the distance between us feeling like a chasm. The air was taut with tension as we began to shoot.
With each arrow I loosed, I felt a strange power building within me. They flew true, each one hitting the center of the target with a satisfying thunk. The villagers murmured in amazement, and I felt a flicker of pride.
But Sider's arrows flew even better. Each one was a bullseye, and with every shot, the gap between us grew wider. His eyes never left the target, his expression focused and determined.
I tried to ignore the sting of his silence, the way he ignored me. But with every perfect shot, the anger grew inside me, like a beast demanding to be unleashed.
The class ended, and I was left standing there, my arrows scattered around the target, a testament to my skill. But it didn't matter. Sider had bested me.
                                               ────── 〔✿〕──────

During lunch, I sat apart from everyone, my food untouched. The sun was shining, but the warmth didn't reach me.
Sider and Rose were at the center of the group, their laughter ringing out like a mockery. I couldn't help but remember the days when we had been inseparable, when our laughter had filled the air.
The sight of them together, so carefree, was like a knife to the heart. I felt like an outsider in a world that I had once been part of.
I picked at my food, the aroma of roast chicken and fresh bread doing nothing to appease my appetite. The whispers grew louder, the villagers casting furtive glances my way.
 I was the one who didn't belong here anymore.
                                                       chapter 5
I was walking home from school when the town crier's voice boomed through the square. "Hear ye, hear ye," he called out. "The Trails of the Elements are almost upon us! The council is now accepting names for tribute!"
The Trails of the Elements was a brutal tradition in our village. Every five years, people were chosen to compete in a series of trials to determine who would represent our village in the grand tournament. It was a chance for glory, for honor, and for some, a chance to escape the drudgery of village life.
But for others, it was a death sentence.
I quickened my pace, eager to get home and away from the prying eyes. The cobblestone streets were crowded with villagers, all eager to cast their vote for who they thought should go.
I heard whispers of my name as I passed, some hopeful, others filled with spite. It seemed my fight with Rose had not gone unnoticed, and some believed I had the skills needed to survive the trials.

When I reached the cottage, I found my mother sitting by the fire, her eyes red and puffy. She looked up as I entered, her face etched with sadness. "They won't vote for you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
"What do you mean?" I asked, setting down my bag.
"You're too kind, too soft," she said, her eyes filling with tears. "They want someone who will win, not someone who will bring back their loved ones."
Her words stung, but I knew she was right. I had always been the gentle one, the one who picked flowers instead of fighting. But now, with Ocean gone and the trials approaching, I had to be more.
"I have to go sell some herbs." My mother says, getting up and wiping her eyes.

While my mother was out, I decided to do my homework. I sat at the table, surrounded by the familiar scents of rosemary and lavender. The assignment was to make a potion that could enhance one's senses.
I carefully measured out the ingredients, my mind racing with thoughts of Ocean and the trials.
The cauldron bubbled and hissed as I stirred the potion, my thoughts swirling like the potion in front of me. I had to focus, had to push aside the anger and fear.
As I added the final ingredient, a drop of my own blood, the potion turned a vibrant shade of blue. It was done.

────── 〔✿〕──────
I had washed up by the time my mother came home. She looked tired, but there was a new determination in her eyes.
"The trails are not to be feared," she said, setting down her basket. "Your father faced them with courage and strength, and so will you."
"But Mother," I protested, "I'm not like him. I don't have his magic, or his bravery."
"You have something greater," she said, her voice firm. "You have love. Love for your friend, love for this village, love for the people you care about. That is your greatest power."
Her words echoed through me, igniting a spark of hope. "But what if I fail?" I whispered.
"Failure is not the end," she said, taking my hand. "It is a part of the journey. What matters is that you try, with all your heart."

Chapter 6
The next morning, my mother and I set out for the market. The cobblestone streets were already bustling with activity, the smell of fresh bread and roasting meats filling the air. The market was a riot of colors, with stalls laden with fruits, vegetables, and all manner of goods.
As we weaved through the crowd, I caught sight of a book perched on an old man's table. The title, "The Vanishing Art," caught my eye. It was bound in worn leather, the pages yellowed with age.
"Mother, look," I said, pointing at the book. "It might have information about Ocean."
Willow followed my gaze and sighed. "We can't afford that, Blossom. Besides, we don't need stories of the past to find her."
My heart sank as she tugged me away, but the book's title echoed in my mind. What if it held secrets to her disappearance?

We eventually reached the potion supply store, the scent of rare herbs and exotic ingredients wafting out. The shelves were lined with bottles and jars of every shape and size, filled with substances that glowed, bubbled, and even sang.
While my mother was busy with the vendor, I drifted to the back of the store. That's when I saw them—Rose and Sider, their heads bent over a counter, whispering intensely.
My heart raced as they looked up and saw me. Their eyes narrowed, and the air grew colder. They had always been my rivals, but now, with the trials looming, the tension between us was palpable.
They turned away, their conversation hushed. I felt a pang of loneliness.
                                                ────── 〔✿〕──────
 we walked home, the weight of the day's events settled heavily on my shoulders. The sun was low in the sky, casting long shadows across the path.
Suddenly, the blue fox with the glowing eyes appeared before me. It looked at me with a strange mix of curiosity and sadness. I stopped, my hand reaching out to pet it, but as I did, my mother came rushing up, waving her hands.
"Shoo!" she called out, and the fox darted away, disappearing into the underbrush.
I felt a stab of regret. Why did she do that? The fox had never shown any aggression.
"What was that for?" I asked, my voice tight.
"Those creatures are tricksters," she said, her eyes scanning the woods. "They're not to be trusted."
"It's just a fox," I said, feeling defensive. "What harm could it do?"
"There's more to that fox than meets the eye," she said, her voice low. "It's been seen around the village, whispering to people, leading them astray."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

As we entered the cottage, I noticed the cabinet where she kept the potion supplies was open. "Mother," I said, pointing to the open door. "Why isn't that locked?"
Her face paled, and she rushed over to close it, fumbling with the lock. "Rats," she said, her voice shaking. "They've been getting into everything lately."
But I knew it was more than that. She was hiding something from me, something she didn't want me to find.
I decided to leave it alone for now, focusing instead on the potion she had asked me to make. I had hoped it would be a step towards finding Ocean, but now, with the trials approaching, I wasn't so sure.
I helped my mom pack a basket of herbs for the market, trying to ignore the heavy silence between us. As she left, she placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Be careful," she said, her eyes filled with concern.
I nodded, watching her go before turning back to the kitchen. The dishes from the morning's meal were still piled in the sink, a reminder of the quiet routine we had once shared.
I rolled up my sleeves and set to work, the warm water and the scent of lemon balm soap grounding me. As I scrubbed, my mind wandered back to the blue fox. Why had it come to me? What did it want?
Once the dishes were clean and the kitchen was spotless, I sat at the table, feeling more alone than ever. The cottage was so quiet, the only sound the ticking of the clock.
                                                ────── 〔✿〕──────
It was late afternoon when I heard a knock on the cottage door. I opened it to find a guard dressed in the queen's livery, his expression stern.
"The queen has requested your presence for tea," he said, his voice clipped. "You are to come with me immediately."
My heart skipped a beat. Why would the queen want to see me? Was it about Ocean? The trials? I had so many questions, but I knew better than to ask.
I grabbed my cloak and followed the guard, my stomach churning with nerves. The path to the castle was familiar, but the grandeur of the place had always intimidated me.
The castle loomed ahead, its spires reaching for the sky like fingers of stone. The guards at the gates nodded to the one escorting me, and we passed through into the grand hall.
The walls were lined with tapestries depicting battles and great deeds, the floor a mosaic of gleaming marble. My boots echoed through the halls as we climbed the grand staircase.
Finally, we reached a set of ornate doors, and the guard announced me. "The Lady Blossom to see you, Your Highness," he said, and then he was gone, leaving me to face the queen alone.
The doors swung open, revealing a sumptuous room filled with the scent of jasmine tea and the sound of a crackling fire. The queen sat on a throne-like chair, her eyes fixed on me as I approached.
                                                         Chapter 7
Her smile was kind, but her eyes held a steely resolve. "Please, sit," she said, gesturing to a chair opposite her.
I sat, my hands clenched in my lap. She was beautiful, with long flowing hair the color of moonlight and skin as smooth as silk.
"I've heard of your skills, Blossom," she began. "Your archery, your magic, your determination. I believe you would be an excellent addition to our village's tribute for the Trails of the Elements."
I stared at her, shocked. "Me?" I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "But I'm just a girl looking for her friend."
"Exactly," she said, her voice soothing. "Your purity of heart and your unyielding spirit are exactly what we need. And think of the honor it would bring to your family."

But I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this than met the eye. "But, Your Highness," I protested, "I don't want to leave my mother, or the village. And what if I fail?"
The queen's smile never wavered. "Failure is not the end, my dear. It is a stepping stone to success. And should you win, think of the good you could do for your people."
"But what about Ocean?" I blurted out, unable to hold back the desperation in my voice. "What about finding her?"
The queen's expression grew solemn. "Should you represent us, I assure you, we will spare no resources in our search for your friend. Your participation will not hinder our efforts, but enhance them."
I knew I had to refuse, but the way she spoke, the gentle way she leaned forward, made it hard to resist.
But I steeled myself, drawing from the strength my mother had talked about. "I'm sorry, Your Highness," I said, my voice firm. "But I cannot leave my mother alone, especially not with all that's happening."
The queen's eyes searched mine, as if looking for something beneath the surface. After a moment, she nodded. "I understand your loyalty," she said. "But remember, the choice is yours. The trials are a path to greatness, and the village will need all the strength it can muster."

As I left the castle, the weight of the queen's words stayed with me. The path home seemed longer than ever, the shadows stretching out like fingers trying to pull me back.
I didn't realize how much I had been holding onto the hope of finding Ocean until it was almost snatched away. Now, the reality of the trials loomed over me like a storm cloud.
But as soon as I saw the familiar outline of our cottage, the warm light spilling from the windows, I knew what I had to do. I couldn't abandon my mother, or the village that had become my home.
I walked through the door, the scent of roasting vegetables and fresh bread enveloping me. "Mother," I called out, but she didn't answer.
The kitchen was empty, the potion I had made earlier still bubbling gently on the stove. It was then that I saw the note, pinned to the kitchen table with a sprig of lavender.
"Gone to visit an old friend," it read. "Be back soon. Don't wait up."

With the house to myself, I decided to help in the garden. The earth felt good under my hands, grounding me as I pulled weeds and tended to the plants.
It was there that I saw the blue fox again. It was acting strangely, its movements jerky and unnatural. It looked at me with those piercing eyes, but there was something else there now—fear.
The fox was being controlled. I could feel it, a cold force wrapping around it like a vice.
I approached it cautiously, my hand outstretched. It tried to dart away, but stumbled, as if fighting against invisible chains.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out a sprig of the herb I had been studying, one that could break enchantments. Gently, I placed it on the fox's fur, whispering the words of release.
For a moment, the fox's eyes cleared, and it looked at me with a mix of gratitude and pain. I felt a surge of energy rush through me, and the fox's glow grew brighter.
It yelped and bolted away, disappearing into the night. I sat back, my heart racing.
What had just happened? Who was controlling the fox, and why?
                                                     chapter 8
The next day at school, we had a new lesson—tree climbing. The class was divided into groups, and I was with Rose and Sider, the tension between us as thick as the tree trunks we were supposed to scale.
Rose was fully healed, her cheek no longer marred by the bruise from our fight. She moved with the grace of a cat, her eyes flashing as she ascended the tree with ease.
Sider's jaw was clenched, his movements sharp and precise. I could feel his anger like a palpable force.
But as we made our way through the obstacle course that had been set up in the branches, I couldn't help but admire their skills. They were both so strong, so focused.
I struggled to keep up, my fear of heights making every step feel like a battle. But I pushed through, driven by the need to prove myself.
As we reached the final obstacle, a wobbly rope bridge between two trees, I took a deep breath and stepped out.
My hands gripped the rope, my legs shaking with every movement. But I made it to the other side, the cheers of my classmates ringing in my ears.
For a brief moment, I felt like I belonged again.

The following week, our lessons took a different turn. The healing teacher, Miss thorn, began teaching us how to heal ourselves mentally.
"You must learn to balance your emotions," she said, her voice soothing. "For it is your mind that is your greatest weapon and your greatest weakness."
We were asked to write a poem about our feelings, and to share it to the class.

As I scribbled down my thoughts, I felt a strange peace wash over me. The words flowed like a gentle stream, speaking of loss and longing, of hope and determination.
My heart was laid bare on the page, a testament to my love for Ocean and the pain of her absence. How the boy I used to whisper secrets with now hates me.

Miss Thorn called for our attention, her eyes kind and understanding. "Now, class," she said, "I would like each of you to share your poem. It's important to express your feelings."
Rose's eyes rolled, and she scoffed. "No one cares about your pity party, Blossom," she said, her voice laced with sarcasm.
"Its not like they care about yours Rose."

With trembling hands, I stood, my poem clutched tightly in my fist. The room grew quiet as I took a deep breath and began to read.

"Ocean deep, my heart does weep,
For the whispers we once shared in sleep.
The tides have turned, the sands have shifted,
The warmth of friendship has been drifted.
Where once we talked of stars and dreams,
Now there's only coldness and it seems
The sea has swallowed you whole,
Leaving me with a heart grown cold.
The boy with eyes like the night sky,
Now glares with a look so shy.
Our secrets buried like treasure lost,
In the sands of a forgotten coast.
My words, once sweet as honeycomb,
Now taste of ash and bitter foam.
I miss the laughter, the gentle tease,
The bond that once was so easy to please.
Ocean deep, my heart does call,
To the boy who's become my wall."

I finished reading, my voice shaking, and looked up to see Sider's eyes on me, no longer filled with anger but something else—sorrow.
The class was silent, and even Miss Thorn had a look of surprise. Rose stared at me, her expression unreadable.
"Very good, Blossom," Miss Thorn said, her voice gentle. "It's clear you've been through a great deal of pain."
The rest of the class was asked to share, and as they did, I couldn't help but feel a little less alone. We all had our struggles, our secrets, our fears. Maybe that's what bonded us, in a way.
                                                 ────── 〔✿〕──────
The class clears for lunch and I'm left alone for lunch, the sting of Rose's words still fresh. I sit under a tree, my lunch uneaten, lost in thought.
But as I'm about to get up, a shadow falls over me. It's Sider, looking more human than he has in days.
"You know your stupid little sad poem isn't going to make things better."
I looked up at him, the anger bubbling up inside me. "What do you know about it?" I snapped. "Your stupid little attitude isn't going to change anything either."
But Sider didn't respond with his usual sneer. Instead, he laughed—a real, genuine laugh that reached his eyes and softened his features. It was the first time I had seen him laugh in what felt like an eternity.
"You're right," he said, his smile fading. "But maybe we're both just trying to cope in our own ways."
"Then I hate the way you cope with things." I get up and walk away, leaving him standing there.
                                                   Chapter 9
Mom is not there when I come home. I check her room to make sure.
It's then that I notice the floorboard in the hallway is slightly askew. I kneel down and push it aside, revealing a small hidden compartment. Inside are three tiny vials filled with a glowing liquid.
The potions. The ones she had been so secretive about.
I pick one up, feeling the warmth radiate through my fingertips. A note is attached, in my mother's handwriting.
"For when the darkness calls," it read.
I had no idea what she meant, but the fear was unmistakable.

Just then, I hear the sound of footsteps approaching. I quickly shove the vials back into the compartment and replace the floorboard.
My mother bursts through the door, her eyes wide with alarm. "Blossom, what are you doing?" she asks, her voice a mix of anger and fear.
"I was just...looking for something," I stutter, trying to come up with a believable lie. But she's not fooled.
"You found them," she says, her tone accusatory. "The potions. They're not for playing around with."
"I know." I say. "But what are they for? Why are they hidden?"
Her expression softens, and she sighs heavily. "They're for emergencies," she says. "Dangerous situations where there's no other way."
"What kind of situations?" I press.
" Something you don't have to worry about."
 I can't shake the feeling that she's hiding something important. 
                                              ────── 〔✿〕──────
Later that evening, we sit in silence as we peel potatoes for dinner. The only sound is the soft thunk of the knives against the chopping board.
The tension between us is thick, like a fog that won't lift. I know she's keeping secrets, and it's tearing me apart.
"Mother," I say finally, "I know you're worried about me. But I can handle it."
"You don't know what you're talking about," she says, her eyes on her work. "The trials are nothing like the challenges you've faced here."
"But I've survived," I insist. "I can handle anything."
She stops and looks at me, her eyes filled with a mix of pride and sadness. "Thank you for helping," she says softly. "But I can do it myself now."
It's not the answer I wanted, but it's all she's willing to give.

After dinner, I decide to take a walk.
I grab my cloak and sling my quiver over my shoulder, the weight of the arrows a comforting presence. The night is cool, the moon casting silver light through the leaves.
The path to the village is quiet, the only sound the crunch of gravel under my boots. I know every turn, every tree, every shadow. But tonight, the familiar feels eerie, as if the very air is holding its breath.
I find myself at the cliff's edge, the spot where Sider and I used to sit and talk. It was our secret place, where we'd share stories and laugh until our sides hurt.
The view is as breathtaking as ever—the moonlit ocean stretching out to infinity, the waves whispering secrets to the shore. I sit down, the cold stone seeping through my dress.
The breeze carries the scent of salt and damp earth, and I close my eyes, letting the memories wash over me. The echo of our laughter, the song we used to sing.

In the vale where the willow weeps,
Where the moon kisses the sleeping deeps,
Our hearts were young and wild and free,
As we danced by the light of the silver sea.

The stars above twinkled like eyes,
Whispering secrets to the nighttime skies,
And the ocean sang us a gentle tune,
Of adventures yet to be very soon.

In the moonlit glade, we whispered our fears,
Promising to conquer them with our peers,
With arrows straight and hearts so bold,
We'd protect the village, we'd be told.

But now the whispers have turned to a roar,
The village divides, and we ignore,
The bond we had, the friendship so true,
As we're torn apart by what we must do.

I miss when we were friends. When the world was smaller, and our biggest worries were who could climb the highest tree, or who could catch the most fireflies in a jar. When Sider's smiles were genuine, and Rose's eyes didn't hold a hint of malice.
Back then, the village was a warm embrace, a place where every face was a friend and every heart held a piece of our shared joy. Now, it felt like a prison, the very air thick with unspoken accusations and hidden agendas.
                                            Chapter 10
The next day at school, the class gathered for a surprise challenge—a race through the treetops. We were paired off, and I found myself with Sider, the one person I didn't want to be stuck with.
"Ready?" Miss Thistle called out, her voice echoing through the clearing. The sun peeked through the leaves, casting dappled shadows on the ground.
I nodded, gripping the rope tightly. Sider gave me a look that was half-smirk, half-challenge.
The race was a blur of green and brown as we climbed and swung through the branches. My heart raced, not just from the exertion, but from the fear of failure. Of letting everyone down. Of never finding Ocean.
The obstacles grew more challenging as we went, each one seemingly designed to push us to our limits. I could hear the cheers and jeers of our classmates below, but all I could focus on was the tree ahead and the next foothold.
Sider was fast, his muscles flexing as he moved with the grace of a seasoned climber. I struggled to keep up, my fear of heights rearing its ugly head. But with every step, I thought of Ocean, and how she'd be proud if she could see me now.
The race grew more intense as we approached the final stretch, a series of ropes and swings that would take us back to the ground. Sider took the lead, his movements fluid and precise.
I could feel the eyes of the villagers on me, their whispers echoing in my mind. But I pushed ahead, my heart pounding in my chest. I couldn't let them win, not today.
I leapt for the first rope, my grip tight. I swung, my cloak fluttering behind me like a cape. The wind rushed past my ears as I flew through the air, my heart in my throat.
The second rope was closer, and I swung with all my might, my boots just grazing the branch.
The third rope was the hardest, the gap wider than the others. I took a deep breath and jumped. For a moment, I felt weightless, the world holding its breath with me.
And then, with a thump, I caught the rope, the fibers biting into my palms. The pain was sharp, but I didn't let go. I swung and leaped, my legs scraping against the bark.

I hit the ground running, the cheers of the crowd spurring me on. I could see the finish line, a ribbon fluttering in the breeze. Sider was just ahead, his eyes locked on the prize.
I sprinted, my lungs burning, my legs feeling like they might give out. But I couldn't stop now.
The blue-eyed fox appeared, darting through the trees, its eyes fixed on me. It was as if it was urging me forward, guiding me through the race.
I pushed harder, my breath coming in ragged gasps. The finish line grew closer, and I could feel Sider's presence just behind me.
With a final burst of energy, I lunged forward, crossing the line a heartbeat before him. The crowd erupted into applause, and for a moment, all the whispers and doubt fell away.
Sider looked at me, a mix of shock and admiration on his face. "You've changed," he said, his voice hoarse.
"Well, we all have to change in some ways." I panted.
                                                 ────── 〔✿〕──────
                                                         
I made my  way back to the village, the sound of my footsteps the only noise in the quiet woods, I heard it—Rose and Sider's voices, drifting through the trees. They were sitting in the glade where we used to play, their laughter now twisted into cruel words.
My heart sank as I approached, my ears burning with every spiteful remark.
"...always thought she was so perfect," Rose was saying. "But she's just a scared little girl, playing at being a hero."
"Yeah," Sider agreed. "And look at her now, no friends, no proper family."
Their words cut deeper than any sword, shattering the fragile peace I had found in the race.
I wanted to confront them, to scream until my voice was hoarse, but something held me back. Maybe it was the sadness in their voices, the pain that lay just beneath the surface of their spite.
Instead, I turned away, my eyes stinging with unshed tears. I couldn't let them see me like this, not now.

Back at the cottage, I found my mother waiting for me. Her eyes searched my face, and she knew.
"What did they say?" she asked softly.
"They think I'm a fool," I whispered, my voice trembling. "They think I'm going to fail."
"Blossom," she said, her arms wrapping around me. "You are not a fool. You are brave and strong, and you will do what is right."
"But how do I know what's right?" I choked out. "How do I know if I'm making the right choices?"
"You follow your heart," she said, her voice firm. "And remember the love that guides you."
Her words echoed through me, mixing with the pain of the day. I knew she was right, but it was hard to hold onto that truth when everything felt so twisted.
                                                 ────── 〔✿〕──────
The next day was Village Errands Day, and my mother and I set out early. The sun had just begun to peek over the horizon, casting a soft light across the cobblestone streets.
We walked in silence, the weight of the day's tasks heavy on our shoulders. As we passed the market, I caught sight of some of my classmates. Their eyes slid over me, filled with a mix of pity and disdain.
"You know, Sider said you murdered your father," one of them, a girl named Ivy, called out.
I stopped in my tracks, my heart racing. "What are you talking about?"
They exchanged glances, their smirks telling me they knew something I didn't. "Everyone knows," she said. "The night he disappeared, you were seen fighting with him."
"That's not true," I protested, my voice shaking. "You're all just repeating lies."
"Lies?" Sider's voice was cold, and I turned to find him standing there, arms crossed. "Or maybe it's the truth you can't face."
I  shake off my mothers grip and stomp over towards Sider and slap him across the face. "Oh, please, Sider. The only truth here is that your imagination needs a reality check."
Rose saunters over, a smug smile playing on her lips. "It's funny how people disappear around you, isn't it, Blossom?"
"Would you like to be next?" I answer.
Her smile falters, and she takes a step back. "Are you threatening me!"
"Rose, what do you think? You know, sometimes I wonder if you use your brain." I step closer towards them as they back away. " And you came from a better kingdom too."
The market square goes quiet as the townsfolk stare at us. Willow grabs my arm, pulling me away. "Blossom, please, not here," she whispers urgently.
But the damage is done. The whispers start again, louder this time, a murmur of accusations and suspicion.
My mother's grip tightens. "We need to go," she says, her voice strained.

We walk away, my cheeks burning with anger. I couldn't believe what they were saying, what they were doing to me. But as we turned the corner, I couldn't help but look back.
Sider and Rose stood there, watching me, their expressions unreadable. And as I met Sider's gaze, I felt something snap inside of me.
But as we continued down the road, the weight of their words settled back onto my shoulders. Was I really just a scared girl playing hero? Was I chasing shadows, hoping to find something that didn't want to be found?
The doubt gnawed at me, a constant companion as we finished our errands and returned home.
                                                    Chapter 11
                                                
The next morning, I woke to find my mother sitting by the fire, her needle and thread poised over a beautiful dress. It was made of silk and velvet, the colors of the sunset—deep blues and fiery oranges, with threads of silver woven through.
"This is for the trials," she said, her voice soft. "It's a symbol of the village's hope in you."
I looked at her, feeling the weight of the village's expectations, the whispers of doubt, and the ache of lost friendship.
"Mother," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know if I can do this."
She looked up at me, her eyes filled with a fierce love. "You can, and you will," she said. "You have the heart of a lion, my girl."
Her words were a balm to my soul, and I felt a spark of determination ignite within me.

That evening, after my mother had gone to bed, I couldn't sleep. The anticipation of the upcoming trials and the fear of what lay ahead kept me awake.
I decided to visit the tavern one last time, to say goodbye to the place where I had felt so much joy and pain.
The warm light spilled out onto the cobblestone street, and as I pushed open the door, the scent of ale and roasting meat filled my nose. The same old faces were there, but there was a new one—a boy with golden hair and eyes like the sun.
"You must be Blossom," he said, a gentle smile playing on his lips. "I've heard so much about you."
"And you are?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.
"Sonne," he said, extending a hand. "I've just arrived from a village far to the east. I'm here to enter the trials as well."

We talked for hours, sharing stories of our lives and our dreams. He spoke of adventures in lands I had only read about in books, and I found myself laughing for the first time in what felt like an eternity.
His laughter was infectious, a deep, rolling sound that seemed to shake the very foundations of the tavern. We talked about everything and nothing, our words flowing as freely as the ale.
For a brief moment, I forgot about the whispers and the doubt, lost in the warmth of a new friendship.
As the night grew late, we stumbled out into the cool air, the stars twinkling above us like a thousand tiny fires.
"You know," Sonne said, his arm slung around my shoulders, "I think we're going to be great friends."
"I'd like that," I said, smiling up at him.
The joy I felt was a rare thing, a treasure to be held close. It didn't erase the pain of the past, but it gave me hope for the future.
                                                   ────── 〔✿〕──────
The next morning, my mother woke me early, her eyes filled with excitement. She had spent an hour working on my hair, weaving intricate braids and adorning it with flowers.
The dress she had made lay on the bed, its silk shimmering in the early light.
"It's beautiful," I whispered, running my fingers over the delicate stitching.
"Put it on," she said, her voice filled with pride. "You're going to make us all proud today."
I slipped into the dress, feeling the warmth of her love seep into my very bones. The fabric hugged my body, the colors seeming to come alive as I moved.
With a final pat on the shoulder, she handed me the cloak she had made, its edges trimmed with the same silver thread that wove through the dress.
Together, we made our way to the palace, the grand structure looming over the village like a silent sentinel.

The courtyard was already packed with villagers, all dressed in their finest, their faces a mix of excitement and trepidation. The air was thick with anticipation, the scent of roasting meats and baking bread mingling with the scent of sweat and nerves.
We found our seats, the cobblestones cool under our skirts, and waited.
The queen, dressed in a gown that matched the royal banners hanging from the castle walls, stepped out onto the balcony.
Her silver hair gleamed in the sunlight, and her voice carried over the crowd like a bell.
"Today," she said, "we begin the Trails. A journey of discovery, of strength, and of truth."
Her words hung in the air, a promise and a warning.
The crowd erupted into cheers, and I felt a knot form in my stomach.
This was it. The moment I had been both dreading and longing for.
                                                 
As the queen finished her speech, she called for the first contestant.
My heart raced as I watched each participant step forward, their names echoing through the courtyard.
I thought of Ocean, of the promise I had made to her, and I knew I couldn't back down now.
Finally, it was my turn. I took a deep breath and stepped into the light, my hand on the hilt of my sword.
The crowd fell silent, their eyes on me like a thousand tiny suns.
The first trial was a test of agility, a race through an obstacle course of fire and water.
I knew I had to win, not just for myself, but for Ocean, for my mother, for the village that had turned its back on me.
With a nod to the queen, I took off, my heart pounding in my ears.
The flames licked at my heels, the water soaking my dress. I moved with the grace of a dancer, my training and instincts guiding me.
As I reached the end, the crowd erupted into applause, and for a moment, I felt like I was flying.
 As I turned to face the next challenge, I saw Sider and Rose standing in the crowd, their faces a mirror of the doubt I felt.
Their smirks were gone, replaced by something colder, more calculating.
The second trial was a test of archery, my one true skill.
I stepped up to the line, my bow feeling heavier than ever.
My mother's words echoed in my mind—"You have the heart of a lion."
I took a deep breath, my eyes focusing on the target.
The world fell away, and there was only me and the bow.
I released the arrow, watching as it sliced through the air, a silent promise of victory.
It hit the bullseye with a thunk, and the crowd roared.
But as I turned to face my opponents, I knew the hardest battles were still to come.
The whispers had turned to a dull roar, but I wouldn't let them drown out the truth.
I was here for Ocean, and I would not fail.
                                                      ────── 〔✿〕──────
The queen had taken us to a dimly lit chamber, the walls adorned with ancient tapestries that spoke of battles long forgotten.
The door clicked shut behind us, and she handed us a parchment with a riddle scribbled.
My heart thudded in my chest, the weight of the trials pressing down on me like a heavy blanket.
The riddle begin.

"I drift like whispers in the breeze, Ephemeral moments, never to seize. In shadows of laughter, I swiftly appear, Yet linger too long, and I disappear. With ties that can tighten or gently unwind, I teach you the art of leaving behind. Tread lightly with words, for they hold the key, To bonds that can break or set you free. What am I?"

The queen's words hung in the air, a puzzle wrapped in a mystery. I glanced at Sonne, whose eyes were alight with excitement. This was a test of our wit, not just our physical strength.
We turned to the tapestries, searching for clues. Each scene depicted moments of friendship and camaraderie, but the figures in them were obscured by shadows and half-hidden by the intricate patterns.
I stepped closer to one, my eyes tracing the outline of a girl with a bow, her shadow stretching out before her like a path. The tapestry was titled "The Bonds of Friendship."
The answer struck me like a bolt of lightning. "You are a memory," I said, turning to the queen. "Memories can be fleeting, yet they hold the power to either bind us or set us free."
Her lips curled into a smile. "Very good, Blossom. The first trial is not about archery, but about understanding the true weapon we all wield—our hearts and minds."
But as I stand there, the words of my poem echoing in my mind, I realized something. Maybe we weren't torn apart by fate or some grand design. Maybe we had torn ourselves apart, one resentful word and one unkind action at a time.

The crystal in the center of the room pulsed with a soft light, as if in approval. It spoke again, its melodic voice filling the chamber. "Now, tell me, Blossom, who do you hate the most?"
I thought of Sider and Rose, their taunts and accusations. But then I remembered the blue-eyed fox, the way it had looked at me with understanding.
"I don't hate anyone," I said firmly. "But if I have to choose, I guess it would be Sider."
The room grew colder, the shadows deepening. "Why?" the crystal pressed.
"Because he was my friend," I said, the words sticking in my throat. "And he chose to believe the worst of me."
The crystal hummed, the light inside it flickering like a candle in a gust of wind. "Your regret is noted," it said. "But remember, the strongest bonds can be forged from the most brittle threads."
The next question was more personal, more painful. "Who do you miss the most?"
My thoughts flew to Ocean, her laughter and the warmth of her embrace. But deep down, I knew there was another absence that haunted me.
"I miss my father," I whispered. "Even though I don't remember him, I miss what could have been."
The crystal's light grew warmer, wrapping around me like a comforting embrace. "Your father is a part of you, Blossom. His spirit lives within your heart."

The final question was the most unexpected of all. "Who are you jealous of?"
My mind raced, but no name came to mind. "I'm not jealous of anyone," I said truthfully. "I have what I need."
The crystal's light grew brighter, and I could feel its approval. "Very well," it said. "You have answered truthfully. But beware, for jealousy is a sneaky creature. It may not show its face until it is too late."
The room grew warmer, the tension dissipating. The crystal's light dimmed, and the walls of the chamber began to glow with a soft blue light, revealing an exit.

The next trial was a puzzle, an obstacle course filled with illusions and deceit. We were told to navigate through the "Labyrinth of Envy," where our true selves would be reflected back at us.
The path ahead was a maze of mirrors, each one reflecting a different version of reality. I saw myself standing tall and proud, my bow in hand, and then again, hunched over in despair, my eyes full of doubt.
I pushed forward, each step a battle against the whispers in my head. The mirrors twisted and turned, showing me scenes of the village, my mother, and Ocean.
I reached out to touch the glass, but my hand passed through the image. It was just a reflection, a mere echo of what once was.

The crystal spoke again, its voice echoing through the maze. "Blossom, the path to victory is not about conquering others, but about conquering yourself."
I took a deep breath and stepped into the next chamber, where I faced my most terrifying reflection yet—Ocean, her eyes filled with accusation.
"Why did you leave me?" she demanded, her voice a mix of anger and pain.
"I didn't mean to," I whispered, my eyes welling up with tears. "I didn't know."
The image shifted, and she was gone, leaving me with the cold, hard truth of my actions.

The escape room was a maze of puzzles and riddles, each more confounding than the last. Each person was locked in there own room.
The walls whispered secrets of those who had failed before me, their despair lingering in the air like a heavy fog.
As I searched for a way out, my eyes fell upon a dusty table in the corner, illuminated by a solitary candle. Atop it lay a parchment, yellowed with age, a single riddle scrawled in an elegant script:

"I am not alive, but I grow; I don't have lungs, but I need air; I don't have muscles, but I can make your heart race; I don't have a mouth, but water kills me."
The riddle on the parchment was simple yet profound, a puzzle that required introspection as much as wit. I stared at the words, the candlelight flickering over the ancient paper, and a strange calm washed over me.

Without thinking, I reached out and touched the wall, and to my astonishment, it rippled like water. The reflection of a garden appeared, roses in full bloom, siders of apples heavy with fruit, and cherry blossoms raining down like a soft, pink snow. The room's walls had become a door to a place of beauty and tranquility.
This was the real trial, the one I had been preparing for without knowing.
                                                            Chapter 12
                                                 
The room shifted again, and now I was standing in the middle of the garden, the scent of roses and cherry blossoms surrounding me. I looked around, and in the center of the garden, I saw them—Rose and Sider.
They were frozen in time, a living painting of our past. Rose was picking petals from a rosebush, her laughter as sweet as the blooms she held. Sider was leaning against a mighty oak, his eyes filled with mischief as he watched her.
And then, I saw myself—a young girl with a crown of cherry blossoms, my eyes wide with wonder.
The memory washed over me like a warm summer rain, soothing the raw edges of my anger and doubt.
For a moment, I was lost in the scene, feeling the softness of the petals against my skin, the warmth of the sun on my face.
But the moment was fleeting, and I knew I had to move on.
I took a deep breath and stepped closer to the reflection of Sider.
He was the tree, strong and unyielding, a pillar of comfort and protection. But trees could be felled, and I knew that beneath his tough exterior, he was as vulnerable as the rest of us.

I reached out to touch the mirrored surface, and the image of the garden faded away, replaced by a long corridor lined with dusty bookshelves. This was the library of truth, the place where all secrets were laid bare.
The books whispered as I passed, their pages fluttering like the wings of a thousand butterflies. The air was thick with the scent of knowledge and forgotten tales.
I looked around, not knowing what to do. The library was vast, filled with an endless sea of books that whispered secrets and held the answers to questions I hadn't even thought to ask. The weight of the room pressed down on me, the expectations of the villagers and the ghosts of my past a tangible presence.

With trembling hands, I pulled a book from the shelf, the leather cool and smooth under my fingertips. The title was in a language I didn't recognize, but the feel of it was familiar—it was a book of spells.
As I opened it, the pages were as white and unblemished as the day it was made. The book was empty, a canvas waiting for a story to be written.
I moved from shelf to shelf, each book I touched revealing the same blank pages, each one a silent accusation of my ignorance.
The hours stretched into eternity, and still, I hadn't found the answer. My eyes grew heavy with the weight of unshed tears, my body weary from the trials of the day.
The candles flickered and danced, casting eerie shadows that twisted and turned with every step I took.
In the quiet of the library, the whispers grew louder, taunting me with the words of doubt that had followed me since Ocean's disappearance.
I slammed the book shut, the echo bouncing off the high ceilings and sending a shiver down my spine.

With a scream that tore from my throat, I turned and dashed down the corridor, searching for an exit, any escape from this prison of reflection.
The books seemed to close in around me, their spines sharp as knives, the shelves stretching into an endless maze.

But as I stumbled, I heard a faint sound—the whisper of pages turning. I followed the sound, my heart racing, until I found myself in a small, circular room.
In the center, a single book lay open on a pedestal, its pages fluttering with an otherworldly breeze.
The book was bound in leather the color of the night sky, studded with stars that glittered like real diamonds.
I approached with caution, I wipe my tears as I reached out to touch it.
As my fingertips brushed the page, the whispers grew silent, and the room filled with a soft, golden light.

The book was not empty as the others had been—it contained a single poem, written in a script so beautiful it seemed to dance across the page.
My eyes scanned the words, and as I read, a warmth spread through me, filling the hollow places that doubt had carved out.
It was my poem, the one I had written for Ocean, but it was different—it was as if someone else had penned it, someone who had seen into the very depths of my soul. The poem spoke of love and loss, of the strength found in the face of adversity, and of the hope that burned within me like an eternal flame.
Each line was a revelation, a mirror reflecting not just my own pain, but the shared experiences of every heart that had ever loved and lost.

The final stanza whispered the answer to the riddle of the escape room:

"In the heart of the storm, you'll find your true form,
Where whispers of doubt are silenced by a storm's norm.
Look within, for there you'll find the key,
To unlock the door and set yourself free."

The poem's final words echoed in my mind as the ground beneath me suddenly gave way. With a scream that was swallowed by the darkness, I fell into an abyss, the wind rushing past my ears like a thousand screaming voices. I reached out, desperately trying to grab onto something, anything, but my fingers found only air.
The plummet was endless, my heart in my throat, my dress billowing around me like a parachute in reverse. I had no time to think, no chance to react—only to feel the rush of the void, the cold embrace of the unknown.

And then, without warning, the world stopped.
                                                   ────── 〔✿〕──────
I found myself standing in a meadow, the soft grass underfoot a stark contrast to the cold stone of the palace. The sky above was a vibrant tapestry of blues and purples, the stars winking at me like the eyes of old friends. The air was thick with the scent of lavender and honeysuckle, and the sound of a distant stream sang a lullaby to the night.

I rubbed my eyes, sure that I was still trapped in the library's illusion. But as I blinked the stars into focus, I knew this was real. I was standing at the edge of the village, the cool night air kissing my cheeks.
The meadow was a place of quietude, a sanctuary from the chaos of the trials and the whispers of the villagers. The stars above seemed to lean closer, whispering secrets that only the night could hold.
I took a tentative step forward, the sound of my footsteps the only disturbance in the stillness. The village lay before me, the cobblestone streets empty, the windows of the houses dark and silent. The tavern's sign swung lazily on its hinges, the laughter and chatter of its usual patrons a distant memory.
I wandered the streets, my eyes scanning the shadows for any clue, any hint of what the next trial could be. But the night remained unyielding, a silent observer to my confusion and frustration.
Finally, unable to contain the turmoil within, I threw my arms up to the sky and screamed, "What do you want me to do?"
The echo of my voice was the only response, bouncing off the ancient cobblestones and disappearing into the dark. The village remained still, the only sounds the distant hoot of an owl and the whisper of the breeze through the leaves of the trees. Defeated, I made my way back to the meadow, the one place where I had found peace since the start of this ordeal. The tall grass whispered secrets to the moon as I approached, and the stars above seemed to nod in understanding as I collapsed onto the soft earth.
The scent of lavender and honeysuckle was a gentle balm to my bruised spirit. The meadow was a canvas of memories, each blade of grass a brushstroke painted with moments of joy and sorrow.
Lying there, I gazed up at the vast expanse of the night sky, the stars winking down at me like the eyes of an infinite being. And there, amidst the constellations that had watched over me since childhood, I saw it—a shape that took my breath away.
The stars had aligned to form a perfect key, its teeth pointing towards the horizon. The key was not just a symbol, but a map to the next part of my journey.
I stood up, my dress fluttering around me like the petals of a cherry blossom in the wind. My heart raced as I stepped closer to the shape, my eyes never leaving the heavens.

With newfound determination, I set off towards the east, where the key pointed. My mind raced with questions and theories, but I knew I had to trust the stars, to trust in the whispers that had guided me thus far.
The path grew steeper as I climbed the hill that overlooked the village, the cobblestone streets shrinking into a patchwork quilt of darkness and light.
As I reached the summit, the wind picked up, carrying with it the faint scent of the sea. It was a scent that spoke of freedom, of the vast expanse that lay beyond the village's borders.
The whispers grew louder, urging me on, and I hurried, my heart pounding in my chest. I had to find the key before the dawn broke, before the village awoke to continue its cycle of doubt and accusation.
The hill leveled out, and before me lay a clearing, the ground littered with the remnants of a bonfire. The embers still glowed, casting a warm, flickering light that danced across the leaves.
In the center of the clearing, a chest sat, unlocked and open, as if waiting for me. Inside, nestled in a bed of velvet, lay a single, gleaming key—the key to my freedom from the trials, and perhaps from the chains of the past that had held me captive for so long.
I reached out and took it, the metal cool and heavy in my hand.
As the first light of dawn kissed the horizon, I turned back to the village, the key tightly clutched in my fist.
The whispers grew softer, the stars above dimming as the day broke.
The village stirred below, the first hints of movement in the windows, the clucking of hens and the distant ring of a blacksmith's hammer.
The time for secrets was over. I had to face the trials head-on, armed with the knowledge that I had the power within me to conquer them.
The door to the next trial was not one of wood or metal, but a door of the heart—a door that only I could open.
                                                             Chapter 13
                                                 
The key in hand, I descended the hill, my steps filled with purpose. The whispers of doubt had been silenced by the clarity of the night, and in their place, a new voice grew stronger—a voice that whispered of hope and determination.
The sun had barely risen, casting long shadows that stretched like fingers across the cobblestone streets. The villagers were still in their homes, the scent of baking bread and roasting meats wafting from open windows.
I slipped from shadow to shadow, my heart pounding in time with the rhythm of my steps. The key felt alive in my hand, pulsing with the same energy that coursed through my veins.
I reached the garden gates unseen, the metal cold and unforgiving under my fingertips. With a deep breath, I pushed them open, the squeak of the hinges sounding like a battle cry in the stillness.
The garden was a maze of color and scent, the flowers blooming in a riot of life. The stone path beneath my feet was cool and firm, a stark contrast to the soft grass of the meadow.
I moved with the grace of the fox, my eyes sharp and my senses heightened. The guards patrolled with the precision of well-oiled machines, their eyes scanning the garden like hawks searching for prey.
But I was the predator here, and they were the unwitting mice.
I slipped past them, my heart racing, my breath coming in shallow gasps. The stone was where the whispers had said it would be—under the weeping willow that grew by the pond.

The stone was a simple slab, unassuming and plain. But as I approached, the runes etched into its surface began to glow with a soft, pulsing light.
I placed the key in the keyhole, the metal warm to the touch, and turned it.
The stone slab groaned, the earth trembling beneath my feet as it slid aside, revealing a staircase that descended into the darkness.
The whispers grew louder, a cacophony of voices that sang of danger and promise.
With a final glance at the light of the garden above, I stepped into the shadows, the key in one hand, the other clutching the hilt of my sword.
The air grew colder, the scent of damp earth and moss filling my nose. I descended into the earth, into the heart of the village's secrets.
Each step echoed through the cavern, the light from the key casting eerie shadows that danced and twisted along the walls.
The whispers grew clearer, and I realized they were not just voices from the earth, but the voices of the villagers, of my mother, and even of Ocean.
And then, as I reached the bottom, the whispers fell silent.

Before me lay a chamber, walls as white as freshly fallen snow, gleaming in the light of the key. The floor was a mirror, reflecting my every move, my every emotion.
The room was empty, save for a single chair in the center, its back to me.
I approached with caution, the sound of my boots on the cold stone the only disturbance in the silence.
As I drew closer, the chair swiveled around, and I saw him—Sider, his eyes filled with a sadness that seemed to mirror my own.
"I knew you'd come," he said, his voice a soft rumble in the stillness.
The air was thick with tension, the weight of our shared past pressing down on us like a heavy blanket.
For a moment, we just stared at each other, the key in my hand a silent testament to the journey that had brought me here.

And then, without warning, his features blurred and shifted, the lines of his face rearranging themselves into the gentle contours of my mother.
"Blossom," she said, her voice the same soothing lilt that had comforted me countless times.
I stumbled back, dropping the key in shock.
"You're not Sider," I whispered, my voice trembling. "This is the Trails. This isn't real."
But the illusion didn't dissipate. My mother's eyes searched mine, a silent plea for understanding.
"You're right, my child," she said, her voice now a blend of Sider's gruffness and her own tenderness. "This is a trial, but not just of your strength or your skill—it's a trial of your heart."

The room grew colder, the walls closing in, and suddenly, the chair was gone. In its place was a vast, endless sea, the waves crashing against an invisible shore. I looked down, and my feet were no longer on the stone floor but submerged in the water, the waves lapping at my ankles.
The ocean stretched out before me, a vast and terrifying expanse that seemed to swallow the light. I felt the weight of the water, the pressure of the deep, and the cold seep into my bones.
And then, with a gasp, I realized that I was no longer in the chamber, but standing in the middle of the sea.

Panic gripped me, and I turned to flee. But with every step, the water grew deeper, the waves tugging at me like invisible hands.
I reached out, desperately trying to find something to hold onto, but there was only the endless emptiness of the water.
Above me, the sky was a perfect mirror, reflecting the chaos of the sea below. 
I tried to scream, to call for help, but the water filled my mouth, choking me.
The salty taste of the sea stung my eyes, and I was lost in a world of darkness, the whispers of the Trails swirling around me like a tempest.

And then, as suddenly as it had come, the water was gone, and I was falling through the air, the wind rushing past me like a million whispers.
My eyes snapped open, and I found myself in a soft, warm bed, the scent of lavender in the air.
The walls of the room were unfamiliar, the candles on the nightstand flickering shadows that danced like ghosts.
I sat up with a start, gasping for breath, my heart racing.
The room was empty, the quiet so profound it was a scream in itself.
I looked around wildly, trying to find some sign of where I was or how I had gotten there.
But there was nothing—no window, no door, just four walls of velvet darkness and the echo of my own breathing.

"Find me," A voice whispered again, so faint it was barely more than a memory.
I threw the covers off, my feet hitting the cold stone floor.
My eyes searched the shadows, my hand shaking as I reached for the candle, the flame casting a feeble glow into the corners of the room.
But there was no one there, only the flickering light and the echo of the voice.

The sound grew louder, a soft rustling like leaves dancing in the wind. I stepped closer to the wall, my hand tracing the cold stone, following the sound.
The shadows grew denser, almost tangible, whispering secrets that seemed to pull at my soul.
I felt a chill run down my spine, a premonition of something not quite right.
But I couldn't turn back, not when the voice was so close, so desperate. I reached into the folds of my dress, my trembling fingers closing around the rocks I have collected.
One by one, I began to hit the wall with them, the sound echoing through the chamber like a call to arms.
The first stone barely left a mark, but with each subsequent blow, the wall began to crack, the cracks spider-webbing out like veins of light in the darkness.
The room seemed to pulse with an unseen energy, the whispers growing more insistent with every impact.
The stones grew warm in my hand, almost hot, and the wall began to crumble before me.
With a roar of triumph, I swung my fist, the last rock in hand, and the barrier shattered. Beyond the wall, a pathway opened up, the stones underfoot shimmering like stars in the night sky.
The vines grew thick and lush, twisting and turning into an impossible tapestry of life and color.
They beckoned to me, their leaves whispering sweet nothings that seemed to carry the scent of the sea.
Without hesitation, I began to climb, my legs and arms working in perfect harmony as I scaled the vertical maze.
The air grew warmer, the scent of the sea growing stronger with every handful of vines I grasped.
The walls of the chamber fell away, revealing a vast cavern, the ceiling lost in the shadows above.

The path led me to a beach, the sand warm and inviting under my bare feet. The waves of the ocean lapped at the shore, a gentle lullaby that seemed to call my name.
I stumbled through the water, the waves kissing my legs, the salt stinging my eyes.
Ahead, I saw a figure, a silhouette against the rising sun—Ocean.
My heart leaped in my chest, a wild hope flaring to life like a spark in a deserted cave.
I ran towards her, the water splashing around me, my heart racing with every step.
As I drew closer, the figure grew clearer, and my hope began to waver.
The figure was not Ocean but a statue, carved from the very rock of the cavern, the spitting image of the prince I had once known.
The waves crashed against the shore, the sound a mournful lament that seemed to echo the ache in my heart.
The whispers grew quiet, the only sound the endless sigh of the sea.

With trembling hands, I reached out and touched the statue's stone hand.
It was cold, so cold, like the heart of a glacier.
But as my skin made contact, a strange warmth began to spread through the stone, pulsing up my arm like a current of magic.
The statue began to move, the stone shifting and morphing before my eyes.
The statue of Ocean's form grew and stretched, the rock turning to a staircase that descended into the very heart of the sea.

I took a deep breath and stepped onto the first stair, the water rising around me like a living thing.
The steps grew steeper, the memories more vivid, each one a snapshot of a past filled with joy and pain.
The first memory was of my birth, a blur of light and sound, the feel of my mother's warm embrace.
But there was a shadow there, a sadness that I had never noticed before.
As I descended further, the shadow grew clearer, until I saw the truth—my sister, standing and watching me. And it all comes rushing back to me.
                                                         Chapter 14
  People call it "Happy birthday". But not all birthdays were happy.
I was born in the summer, my mother was really excited for a baby girl. My older sister always wanted someone to play with. This was supposed to be a happy day. Someone had tried to shoot me, my sister jumped in front of me. Her last words were " Mom, please keep my baby sister safe. I just wish I could play with her and watch her grow up." She was 6. 
I was one. It was my sisters 1 year anniversary for her death. Mom gave me my very own cupcake. We went to visit her grave. Mom and dad were crying. I didn't know why. I watched them. That night, my parents were fighting. Mom was angry because dad wasn't there to save my sister from that bullet. My dad was shouting because he tried to come, but he was at war. That night, I wished I wasn't born.
I was two. That was the day I had first met sider. He was 3, we were under a tree, our mothers talking while we play. We ate cake, we laughed and did many things. Dad wasn't there, he was training again. It was one of my happiest birthdays.
I was three. Mom bought a huge birthday cake. Mom had invited sider again, he was now five. We still get along really well though. He made me a story about a little girl who explored the darkest caves. Dad was finally able to come celebrate my birthday. 
I was four. Dad had passed away at war. Mom cried all day, when I asked her where dad went, she said " He has done what he needed for the world, so its our turn. He's now resting in the heavens." I smile, but today didn't feel like my birthday.
I was five. Grandma wanted to celebrate my birthday with me. She said she wanted to tell me some amazing news. She disappeared that day. I still didn't get to hear the amazing news.
I was six. I had a huge birthday party. All my classmates were there. Rose came too, Sider was talking to her the entire time. I didn't care. I was happy.
I was seven. I didn't want to have a birthday party this year. Me and my mom celebrated alone. Sider didn't have time to come and Rose couldn't either. This was my last birthday.
I'm sixteen now. I don't celebrate my birthday anymore. There was nothing to be happy about, not when your friend now hates you and your mom is called crazy for no reason.
I hate this world.
                                           ────── 〔✿〕──────
The water enveloped me as I descended, the pressure increasing with every step.
The memories grew more intense, each one a vivid scene from my past, the pain and anger and love all melding together.
I saw Sider, his eyes full of mischief as we played in the village square.
I saw the moment when everything changed, when the prophecy had torn us apart.
The stairs grew steeper, the water colder, and the memories darker.
The weight of the world seemed to press down on me, the weight of expectations and responsibilities and fears.

And then, at the bottom of the staircase, I found myself standing on a rocky outcropping, the water lapping at my feet.
The hall of the Trails of Hatred stretched before me, the air thick with malice and anger.
The walls were lined with torches, their flames flickering with the rage of a thousand hearts.
The path ahead was lined with the statues of those who had failed the trials before, their faces twisted in agony, forever trapped in the grip of their own hatred.
The air was heavy with the scent of burnt offerings and despair.

In the center of the room, a large glob of black ooze pulsed with a sickening rhythm, a creature made of pure malice.
It rose before me, the shadows of the room seeming to coalesce into its form.
The creature spoke, its voice a cacophony of whispers that slithered into my mind.
"Welcome, Blossom," it hissed. "To truly pass this trial, you must spill your hatred out."
The creature held out a hand, the gesture surprisingly human, the palm a pool of tar that reflected the flickering torchlight.
I felt the rage within me, the anger that had fueled me through the trials, the betrayal that had shaped me.
But as I looked into the pool of darkness, I saw not just my anger, but also the fear and pain that had led me here.
"Hate is what you crave," the creature whispered, its eyes gleaming with a twisted hunger. "Give in to it, and I will show you the way."
I clenched my fists, the whispers of the room growing louder, urging me to let go of my pain.
" I hate the fact that my sister isn't here," I said. "I hate that I didn't die that night."
The creature's grin widened, the tar in its hand swirling like a living thing.
"I hate the fact that Rose and Sider can't understand," I continued, my voice growing stronger. "I hate the fact that the villagers sometimes talk bad about me, the way they look at my mother."
The creature leaned closer, the stench of its breath making me gag.
"I hate that my dad isn't here." A tear drops down my face.'' But you know what I hate the most?"
The creature leaned in, eager.
"I hate the fact that I have to hide my feelings. That people say I haven't experienced anything like what they have been through. But just because they have been through a lot doesn't mean I haven't been through anything."
"Thank you for sharing your anger, but I haven't had enough." The creature laughed." So I wont be showing you the way out."
"Fine then, if you wont then I will myself." I walk past the creature." And thank you for listening, it felt good to spit it out."
                                                      ────── 〔✿〕──────
After what felt like an eternity, I reached the end of the hall.
The ropes lead me up to the surface.
With newfound strength, I began to ascend, each hand over hand movement a declaration of my refusal to succumb to hatred.
The whispers grew faint, the creature's hold on me weakening with every inch gained.
As I climbed, the light grew brighter, the air fresher, and the pressure of the world above grew stronger.
When I emerged from the water, gasping for air, I found myself back in the chamber where I had started.
The walls were gone, replaced by a vast, open space filled with light.
The ropes were no longer a prison but a bridge to freedom.
I climbed over them, each movement a testament to my growth, my refusal to let the past define me.
And as I reached the top, the stage of the trials came into view, the audience of judges and spectators watching me with bated breath.
Their faces were a blur, but their eyes were filled with hope and anticipation.

I looked out at the sea of faces, searching for one in particular—my mother's.
The crowd erupted into applause, their cheers echoing through the chamber like a thousand hearts beating in unison.
For a moment, I couldn't find her, lost in the tide of people.
And then, there she was, standing at the edge of the stage, her eyes shining with pride and love.
I stumbled towards her, the weight of the trials lifting from my shoulders with every step.
"Mom," I whispered, my voice hoarse from the screams of anger and fear that had filled the chamber.
Her eyes searched mine, a hint of sadness lurking behind her smile.
"You were so close, Blossom," she said, her voice filled with a mix of pride and something else—something that felt like regret.
"Close to what?" I asked, my heart racing.
"First place," she replied, her eyes never leaving mine. "But you've already won so much more than that."
“I'm glad I made it though." I respond, a bit upset but mostly relieved.

The queen took the stage, her crown glinting in the light.
"Ladies and gentlemen," she announced, her voice carrying through the hall. "We have witnessed the strength and courage of our contestants."
The villagers grew quiet, the only sound the clinking of silverware against plates as they listened intently.
My stomach growled, the smell of roasting meats and freshly baked bread filling the air.
Suddenly, the queen gestured to a long table laden with food, stretching the length of the chamber.
"Let us feast," she declared, "and let us celebrate."
The villagers cheered, the sound of their laughter and chatter rising like a wave.

The table was set with an array of dishes that looked like they had been plucked from a fairy tale—roast pheasant with glossy golden skin, steaming pots of vegetables, and bread that looked so soft it would melt in my mouth.
But the moment is shattered by Sider's sneering voice.
"Blossom, you think you're so special," he sneers, approaching us with a swagger that's all too familiar. "But you're just a village girl " Rose starts laughing even though it isn't even funny.
"I am a village girl, a girl who knows how to fight and will defend her family and her people. I'm not afraid of you Sider. You are just an arrogant and disrespectful boy who doesn't know what he's talking about. If you think you're so great, why don't you come down here and face me like a real man instead of hiding behind your sneering voice and swagger?"
Sider's eyes narrow, the muscles in his jaw tensing.
He takes a step forward, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
"You dare to challenge me?" he says.
"Yeah, because there's nothing so challenging about you."
Rose's laughter cuts through the air like a knife.
"Look at her," she says, gesturing to me with a cruel smile. "Thinking she can come to the village and be one of us."
"Well that's funny. Here help me out here. Who moved here? You or me?"
Sider's hand tightens even more on his sword,
"This isn't over," he says.
"It's over when I say it is," I reply, my voice steady. 
"Stop being so self centered, Blossom." Sider spits at me.
I get up from my seat. "Here, how about we talk outside so that you won't embarrass yourself."
Sider follows me out.
The night air is cool and crisp, the stars above us like a thousand diamonds scattered across the velvet sky.
"Why are you always like this!"
Sider's eyes flash with anger, his hand still on his sword.
"You don't get it," he says. "You never did."
"Then explain it to me," I challenge him. "Because all I see is a boy who's too scared to face his own feelings."
"And your the one looking for someone who is probably dead!" He spits.
My cheeks burn with anger and humiliation. "You don't know anything about her!" I shout, tears threatening to spill over.
 "I know enough," he says. "I know that you're not thinking straight, that you're letting your emotions cloud your judgment."
"What do you know about judgment?" I shoot back, the anger still simmering. "You're the one who's always been so quick to judge me, to push me down."
Sider's expression tightens, and for a moment, he looks away. "Maybe I've had my reasons," he murmurs, his voice barely audible.
"What reasons?" I demand, stepping closer. "What could possibly justify the way you've treated me?"
Sider's gaze meets mine, and for a second, I see something flicker in his eyes—pain, perhaps, or regret. "You used to be my friend," he says, his voice so low it's almost lost in the rustle of leaves. "Until Rose came along."
The words hit me like a slap in the face. I'd forgotten about the time before she strutted into our lives, turning everything upside down. When Sider and I had been inseparable, sharing secrets and laughter beneath the canopy of the very forest that now loomed before us. "What are you talking about?" I ask, my voice hoarse.
"You don't remember?" He sounds incredulous, the anger in his voice replaced by a sadness that tugs at my heartstrings. "We were inseparable, you and I. We'd sneak out of the village and explore the edges of the forest, dreaming of the adventures we'd have when we were older."
The memory hits me like a wave, crashing into the shore of my consciousness. I see us, younger, laughing, our eyes bright with excitement as we found hidden treasures in the underbrush. And then, like a storm cloud on the horizon, I remember the day it all changed—the day Rose strutted into our lives, her eyes sparkling with mischief and her smile like a dagger aimed at my heart.
"You were the one to join her!" I shout, the words tearing from my throat like thorns. "You chose her over me!"
Sider flinches as if I've slapped him, and for a moment, I regret the accusation. But then his eyes harden, and I remember all the times he stood by while she tormented me, all the times he laughed along with her cruel jibes. "I didn't have a choice," he says through gritted teeth. "Rose is...complicated."
The anger bubbles up in me again, hot and bitter. "That's no excuse," I say, my voice shaking. "You didn't have to become her lapdog."
Sider's eyes flash with anger, but he doesn't deny it. Instead, he takes a step closer, his gaze piercing mine. "You don't know what you're talking about," he says, his voice low and intense. "You've never had to survive in this world the way I have."
Tears blur my vision as I stare at him, my heart breaking all over again. "But I did survive," I whisper, my voice trembling. "I survived without my dad or sister, without Ocean, without any of it."
Sider's face contorts with an emotion I can't quite place—regret, perhaps? "It's not about survival," he says, his voice gruff. "It's about what you lose along the way."
The words hang in the air between us, thick with unspoken history. For a moment, I see the boy he used to be, the one who'd have done anything to protect me. But that boy is gone, replaced by this guarded, angry boy.
"Why couldn't you have chosen me?" I whisper, my voice breaking. "Why did you leave me, for her?"
Sider's expression morphs into something pained, his eyes flickering with a hurt that mirrors my own. "It wasn't like that," he starts, but the words are swallowed by the wind.
"Tell me," I repeat, my voice shaking with emotion. "Tell me why you chose her over me!"
"You wouldn't understand," he says finally. "You've always had it easy, Blossom. You've never had to fight for anything."
"That's not true!" I shout, the hurt and anger boiling over. "You don't know anything about me!"
Sider's eyes narrow, and for a moment, I see a flicker of something in them—remorse, perhaps. "Fine," he says, his voice tight. "I'll tell you. But you're not going to like it."
I cross my arms over my chest, bracing myself for whatever he's about to say. "I doubt it could be worse than what you've already put me through."
Sider's eyes searched mine, a silent plea for understanding. "Rose...she offered me a way out," he said finally, his voice raw. "A way to escape the pain of being a nobody in this village."
"But you were a somebody to me," I whispered, the words like shards of glass in my throat. "You were my best friend."

The admission hung between us, a silent confession that seemed to weigh on the very air. The wind picked up, sending leaves dancing around our feet, as if even nature itself was holding its breath, waiting for my response.
"So," I say finally, my voice deceptively calm, "you sold your friendship for a shot at power?"
Sider flinches, but he doesn't look away. "It's not that simple," he insists. "You don't know what it's like, living in the shadow of... of expectations."
My eyes flash with a mix of anger and sadness. "Expectations?" I echo, my voice trembling. "Is that what you call it? You had a friend, someone who listened to you, who was there for you, and you threw it all away for a girl who only ever saw you as a means to an end!"
Sider's expression hardens. "You don't understand," he says, his voice low and dangerous. "You've always had everything handed to you—your mother's magic, the love of the village. You've never had to fight for anything."
"I do understand!" I shout, the hurt in my voice clear as day. "I was the one who listened to your stories, who held your hand when you were scared of the dark, who showed you the secret tree where we'd sit and whisper our dreams! And now you bring her there?"
Sider's eyes widen, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment or anger—I can't tell which. "That's not what it is," he says, but his voice lacks conviction.
"Isn't it?" I demand, my voice rising. "You bring her to our spot, the place where we used to dream about escaping this village and seeing the world!"
Before Sider can respond, the sound of footsteps interrupts us. We both turn to see Rose gliding towards us, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Well, well, well," she says, her voice a mocking purr. "Looks like someone's finally realized their place in the grand scheme of things."
"Well, at least I can realize. Unlike, Sider over there who can't see anything."
"You think so? Then explain."
"Why would I bother to explain to someone who's to busy feeling bad for themselves." I respond     
walking back into the palace, the warmth of the fireplace a stark contrast to the chill outside.
I walk towards my mom, sitting by the fire, sipping tea, her eyes focused on something across her. "Mom, can we leave this place? Can we just go back home?"
Her eyes snap to mine, the smile on her face fading. "What's wrong, sweetheart?" she asks, setting her cup down.
"Everything," I murmur, my voice thick with unshed tears. "I just...I can't do this anymore."
Mom sighs, her gaze drifting back to the person she's been talking to—a figure shrouded in shadows, their identity hidden from me. "I know you're hurt, Blossom," she says gently. "But we can't leave just yet."
"Why not?" I ask, desperation creeping into my voice. "Why do we have to stay here?"
"Because I'm talking to someone," she says, her voice firm. 
"You know what, I think I'm going to go eat." I say, my voice shaking.
I turn away, my eyes stinging with tears, and make my way back to the feast.
The room feels smaller, the air thicker with tension. I grab a plate and fill it with food, my appetite gone but the need to fill the void in my stomach overwhelming.
As I sit down at an empty table, my thoughts swirl. I can't help but think about Sider, about what he said.
Could it be true? Did I really have everything handed to me? Or was he just trying to justify his actions?
I don't know which thought is more painful—that he could believe such a thing about me, or that there might be some truth to it.
Suddenly, my gaze locks onto a figure standing at the far end of the hall—Sonne.
He waves at me, a warm smile spreading across his face. Despite the turmoil in my heart, I find myself smiling back, raising a hand in a tentative wave.

Sonne starts making his way through the crowd.
"Congratulations," he says, his voice a gentle balm to my raw nerves. "You did amazing out there."
"Thanks," I murmur. "But I didn't win."
"Winning isn't always about crossing the finish line first," he says, his gaze earnest. "Sometimes, it's about finding strength you didn't know you had, or facing your fears head-on."
"Sounds like you're speaking from experience," I say, trying to lighten the mood.
He chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Maybe a little," he admits. "But let's not talk about me right now. You looked like you could use a friend."
"Thanks," I repeat, the word feeling foreign on my tongue. It's been so long since I've felt truly seen, truly understood.
"So, what's next?" he asks, pulling out a chair and sitting down across from me. "You've got the whole village talking about you."
"I don't know," I say with a sigh. "I just want to find Ocean."
"And you will," he says, his voice filled with confidence. "But maybe you need to take a break first, let things settle."
"I don't know if I can," I admit. "Everything feels so...unresolved."
"I get it," he says, his expression sympathetic. "But sometimes, the most important battles are the ones we fight within ourselves."
I nod, taking a bite of food. The flavors dance on my tongue, reminding me that there's still joy to be found in the world, even amidst the chaos.
"Do you ever miss your other life?" I ask, looking up at him. "Being out there, seeing the world?"
Sonne's smile falters for a moment, and he looks away. "Sometimes," he says softly. "But the village is my home, and I've made my peace with that."
"I wish I could say the same," I murmur.
                                                         Chapter 15
Everyone had almost cleared up. Sonne had left with his father an hour ago. My mom was nowhere to be found, and I was too tired to look for her. The grand hall was a mess of discarded plates and cups, the once vibrant fires now smoldering embers.
I stood up and took a deep breath, the weight of the conversation with Sider still heavy on my chest.
"Your Highness," I called out to the queen, who was speaking to some of the council members.
Her eyes flickered to me, and she excused herself, making her way over to me.
"Yes, Blossom?" she asked, her expression curious.
"Why did you put me through the trials?" I blurted out. "I said no, but you didn't listen."
The queen's expression grew serious. "You never talked to me about how you didn't want to be in the trails"
"I did, the day you invited me for tea!" I respond.
"There was no such thing," she replied calmly. "Now where's your mom? You must be tired."
The queen's words were like a slap in the face, and for a moment, I couldn't breathe. Did she really not remember? Or was she playing some kind of twisted game?
"My mom is...busy," I say finally, my voice tight. 
"Okay then, lets get you back home." The queen clapped her hands, and almost immediately, a line of carriages appeared outside the palace doors. "You can take the lead carriage," she said, her voice kind. "It'll take you straight to the village."
"Thank you," I murmur, my heart feeling like it's been shredded into a million pieces.
I step into the carriage, the plush seats enveloping me in a hug I desperately need. As the horses start to pull away from the palace, I can't help but feel a sense of relief—and dread. What would I find when I got back to the village? Would Sider and Rose be waiting for me, ready to continue their taunts? Or would things have changed?
The ride home is a blur of darkness and silence, the rhythmic clop of the horses' hooves the only sound to keep me company.
When the carriage finally pulls to a stop, I step out into the cool night air, the familiar scent of the village reaching out to me like a comforting blanket.
But as I look around, I realize that nothing is the same. The village square is empty, the lights in the windows dim. It's as if the very essence of the place has shifted, leaving me feeling lost and alone.
The carriage driver nods to me before climbing back onto his seat and driving away, leaving me standing in the quiet night, my heart racing.
I walk through the deserted streets, the cobblestones cold and unforgiving beneath my feet.
My house is a beacon of light in the darkness, a solitary candle flickering in the window.
I let out a sigh of relief when I see it, my legs feeling like they might give out from beneath me.
But when I push open the door, the house is eerily silent.
"Mom?" I call out, my voice echoing through the empty rooms. "Mom, where are you?"
There's no answer, just the distant tick of the grandfather clock in the hallway.
My stomach twists into knots. What if something had happened to her?
But as I climb the stairs to my room, the sound of running water reaches my ears—she's in the bathroom.
I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding, my shoulders slumping with relief.
In my room, I strip off my sweaty, dirty clothes and throw them into a pile in the corner.
The cool water of the basin is like a balm to my skin as I wash the grime of the trials away, the scent of lavender soap filling the air.
As I slip into bed, the softness of the sheets enveloping me, I can't help but feel a pang of loneliness.
The events of the day replay in my mind, a tumultuous storm of emotions—anger, hurt, confusion, and the glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, I'd made a difference.
But as my eyes drift closed, the last thing I see isn't the victory or the pain. It's the look in Sider's eyes when he talked about his past, the desperation in his voice when he'd talked about escape.
And for a brief moment, I wonder if maybe we weren't so different after all.
But then, sleep takes me, pulling me into its embrace and carrying me away from the chaos of the waking world.
                                             ────── 〔✿〕──────
The next day dawns with the promise of a new beginning.
The sun streams through the window, painting the floor with a pattern of light and shadow.
The telephone rings, jolting me from my thoughts.
I pick it up, my heart racing. It's Sonne, his voice a warm baritone that fills me with comfort.
"Hey, Blossom," he says. "How are you holding up?"
"I'm...I'm okay," I lie, my voice sounding small and fragile even to my own ears.
"You don't sound it," he says gently. "Would you like to go on a walk ? Maybe talk things through?"
I hesitate for a moment, the idea of opening up to him both terrifying and alluring.
But then I nod, even though he can't see me. "Yeah," I say, my voice stronger now. "I'd like that."
He gives me the name of a little café on the outskirts of the village, a place I've never been before.
"I'll be there," I promise, and hang up the phone.
The rest of the day passes in a blur of chores and preparations, my mind racing with thoughts of what I'll say to him, what I'll wear, how I'll keep the conversation from devolving into a sob fest.
But as the sun sets and the stars begin to peek out from behind the clouds, I feel a strange mix of excitement and nervousness.
It's been so long since I've had a real friend—someone who isn't connected to the drama of the palace or the trials.
Someone who just...understands.
Sonne knocks on the door, and my heart skips a beat.
He's dressed casually, his hair a messy halo around his face, and he looks at me with those piercing blue eyes that seem to see straight through to my soul.
"You ready?" he asks, a small smile playing on his lips.
I nod, grabbing my jacket and following him into the cool evening air.
The café is a cozy little place, the scent of freshly baked bread and brewing coffee wafting through the open door.
We find a table by the window, the streetlights casting a soft glow outside.
As we sit, he looks at me expectantly. "So, tell me about that weird boy and girl," he says, his voice filled with curiosity.
I laugh, the sound surprisingly light and free. "Oh, that's just Sider and Rose," I say with a roll of my eyes. "They're...complicated."
Sonne leans in, his gaze intense. "I want to hear more," he says, his eyes searching mine. "What's their deal?"
And so, I begin to spill the story of my life, of the friend who became a stranger, of the girl who stole everything. He listens intently, his expression a mix of shock and empathy.
"Wow," he says finally, shaking his head. "That's...heavy."
"Yeah," I reply with a sad smile. "But it's just part of who I am now."
"Well, I'm here," he says. "Whatever you need, I'm here."
"You know, I've met you for what? Two days? And I already feel like we are best friends."
He chuckles. "Well, I've got plenty of time to make it official."
We sit in companionable silence for a moment, the hum of the café around us a comforting white noise.
Then he says, "You know, I have a swing outside my house, in the meadow. It's a great place to think."
My eyes widen. "A swing?" I ask, a smile playing on my lips.
"Yeah," he says, his eyes twinkling. "It's where I go when I need to clear my head."
"Can we go there?" I ask, the idea of swinging under the stars, sharing secrets, feeling incredibly appealing.
"Of course," he says, standing up. "Let's go."
We walk through the quiet streets, the moon casting long shadows before us.
As we reach the meadow, I can see the swing hanging from the sturdy branch of an old oak tree, swaying gently in the breeze.
He leads me over, and we sit side by side, the wooden seat warm from the day's sun.
For the first time in what feels like forever, I feel at peace.
                                                ────── 〔✿〕──────

I wake up the next morning with a sense of purpose. I get dressed and make my way to school, bracing myself for the whispers and stares that are sure to come my way. As I enter the schoolyard, I see the teachers huddled together, their eyes lighting up when they spot me. They all rush over, showering me with congratulations and pats on the back, their faces a blur of smiles and encouragement.
"Blossom, you were amazing!" Says the teachers. "We're all so proud of you!"
I say thank you. But as I start to walk away, I catch sight of Sider leaning against the school's brick wall, his arms folded over his chest, watching me with a smug smile.
"Looks like the princess is back," he says, his voice carrying across the schoolyard. "I hope you're ready for the real world now."
"I have been in the real world all a along. It was you who wasn't."
The bell rings and our teacher announces that today we will be learning to hide. The teachers will try to find us.
"Why are we doing this?" I ask, confused.
"Its for training." Sider says, "You know, in case we ever need to hide from danger."
"Great," I mutter under my breath. "Because hiding has worked so well for us in the past."
Class starts, and we're supposed to hide for training purposes. The teachers count to ten while we hide, then they release a type of creature that can sense our emotions and find us.

As we scatter, I find myself climbing a tree. A familiar tree, one with a perfect hiding spot that Sider and I used to use when we played hide and seek as kids.
I settle into the crook of the branches, my heart racing as I hear the creature's footsteps getting closer.
But when I look down, I see Sider standing right below me, a smug look on his face. "Nice spot," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Too bad you're not the only one who knows about it."
I grit my teeth, hoping he will go away  go away. But he doesn't. 
"You're going to get us both caught," I hiss.
"Why do you care?" he snaps. "You're the one who's always had everything."
"What do you know about what I have or haven't had?" I demand.
The creature's footsteps are almost upon us, but Sider doesn't seem to care. He just stands there, his eyes boring into me, as if daring me to argue.
But then, something shifts in me. The anger and hurt give way to a white-hot fury. "Fine," I spit out. "If you're so hell-bent on being found, then stay there. I'm not going to let you drag me down with you."
With that, I jump from the tree, ignoring the pain that shoots through my ankle as I land awkwardly.
As I huddle behind a bush, the creature passes by, its eyes glowing a dull red as it searches for its prey.
"Times up!" I hear the teacher call. I get up and sigh with relief.

We file into a classroom that smells faintly of herbs and incense, the walls lined with jars of glowing substances.
The teacher, Miss Thorn, had prepared a tray of plants. A poster was hanged on the wall. Today we were learning about poison.
"Today, we're going to learn how to identify and avoid dangerous plants," she says, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "But remember, knowledge is power. Sometimes knowing what can harm you is just as important as knowing what can help you."
Sider and I sit on opposite sides of the room, the tension palpable. I can feel his gaze on me, but I refuse to meet it. Instead, I focus on Miss Thorn's lecture, scribbling notes in my book.
But as she speaks, I can't help but think about the conversation we had under the tree. It was as if he had torn open a wound I had been trying to heal for years.

Suddenly, Sider's hand shoots up. "Miss Thorn," he says, his voice carrying across the room. "What would happen if you gave someone poison to eat?"
The room goes silent, and I feel the heat rising in my cheeks. Everyone turns to look at me.
Miss Thorn arches an eyebrow at him. "Now, Sider, that's not a very nice question," she says, her voice stern. "But if you must know, it would cause a very unpleasant reaction. Ingesting poison  can lead to severe stomach pain, it may cause them to lose their memory and death."
"Interesting," Sider says, his eyes never leaving me. "What if they didn't know it was poisonous?"
I grip my pencil tighter, willing myself not to look at him.
Miss Thorn's gaze flickers between us, sensing the tension. "Accidental ingestion can happen," she says carefully. "But it's always best to be aware of what you're putting in your body."
"But what if you had to?" he presses. "What if someone's life depended on it?"
I can feel the room holding its breath, waiting for Miss Thorn's response.
"In extreme circumstances," she says, "you might have to choose the lesser of two evils. But," she adds, looking straight at Sider, "it's important to remember that with great power comes great responsibility."

The bell finally rings, and we all scramble to pack up our things. As I stand, my knees wobbly from the confrontation, Sider strides over to me.
"Are you planning to poison me or something?" I ask.
He smirks. "Why would I bother?"
"Because I'm getting closer to Ocean and you're not." I say.
"You think I'd stoop that low?" he says, his voice rising.
The room has gone quiet again, and everyone is staring at us.
"Stoop that low? Maybe. But I know you’re desperate. Just remember, and I’m not afraid of a little chaos, Sider. So keep your friends close—but your enemies closer."
                                                 ────── 〔✿〕──────
It was late after school when Sonne called. His voice was warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the coldness of the day's events.
"Blossom," he says. "I hope you don't have plans tonight. I've made dinner, and I'd love for you to come over."
"Sure, I'll be there."

As I arrive at Sonne's house, I can't help but feel a flutter of excitement in my stomach. The porch light is on, and the scent of something delicious wafts through the open door. But when I step inside, I see Sider and Rose sitting at the dinner table, their heads bent together in deep conversation.
"I thought you said it was just us," I say to Sonne, my voice tight.
"It was," he says, his cheeks reddening. "They just... stopped by."
Sider and Rose look up, their expressions a mix of surprise and smugness.
"How lovely," Sider says, his eyes raking over me. "A dinner party."
"I didn't know you were coming," I say through gritted teeth.
"Surprise," he says, with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.
                                            ────── 〔✿〕──────
                                               
The dinner is tense, with conversation sticking to the surface of things—the weather, the village gossip, the state of the gardens. Everyone is careful not to step on the minefield of our unspoken feelings.
But as the meal goes on, Sonne seems to grow more nervous, glancing between Sider and me, as if waiting for an explosion.
"So, Sonne," I say, trying to keep my voice light. "What's the real reason you invited us all here?"
He looks down at his plate, his cheeks even redder now. "I just thought... I mean, we're all friends, right?"
"Friends?" Sider laughs, his voice harsh. "Is that what we are?"
"Oh please, if we were any closer, I'd have to start charging you rent for occupying space in my life!" I respond to Sider. " Plus, Sonne had invited you to dinner, and you came. So enjoy it."
The tension in the room is thick enough to cut with a knife, but Sonne seems determined to keep things friendly. He starts talking about the latest book he's reading, a tale of adventure and magic that we all used to love as kids.
For a moment, we're all drawn in, lost in the nostalgia of simpler times. But then Sider says something that hits a nerve, and the conversation veers off course again.
"So, Blossom," he says, his tone mocking. "How's your quest to find Ocean going?"
I shoot him a glare. "It's none of your business."
"Oh, come on," he says, his eyes dancing. "We're all friends here. We can share our secrets."
"Friends don't keep secrets," I say.
Sonne clears his throat. "Let's change the subject, shall we?"
But the damage is done. The dinner has gone from awkward to unbearable.

Sider leans back in his chair, a smug look on his face. "Speaking of secrets," he says, his voice low enough that only I can hear. "Did you ever hide that body you killed?"
My heart stops. The room seems to tilt on its axis. I look at him, my eyes wide. "What are you talking about?"
"You know," he whispers. "The one you killed to protect Willow. Or was it just for fun?"
Sonne looks up, his eyes wide with shock. "What are you talking about?"
"It's nothing," I say. "Just Sider being his usual lying self."
But the look on Sonne's face tells me he's not buying it.
As we're cleaning up, Sider whispers something to Rose that makes her laugh, a sound that sends a chill down my spine.
"What was that about?" I demand when they're out of earshot.
He just smirks. "Oh, just a little story I made up. To keep things interesting."
"Oh, a story, huh? Is that what we're calling your attempts at humor now?  Seriously, ‘keeping things interesting’ is a bold way to say you stumbled into a conversation and decided to throw a plot twist no one asked for. Next time, try sticking to reality — it’s got way better storylines!"
After they leave, Sonne and I sit in the living room, the silence stretching between us like a tightrope.
"What was that about?" he asks finally.
"It's nothing," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "Just Sider being Sider."
"About the killing part?"
"Its not true. I would never do that. Please don't tell me you believed that."
He looks at me, his eyes filled with doubt. "I don't know what to believe anymore."
"Well, I'm telling you the truth. I've never killed anyone."
The silence stretches out again, taut and uncomfortable.
"I just don't know who to trust," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.
"You can trust me," I say. "I've never lied to you."
But as the words leave my mouth, I can't help but wonder if that's true. Have I really been honest with him about everything?
"You know," I say, my voice soft. "We all have our secrets."
He looks up at me, his expression unreadable. "You could be lying to me right now."
"Sonne," I say. "I'm not. I promise."
He nods, but I can see the doubt lingering in his eyes.
                                                     Chapter 16
                                                                    
That night, I go home feeling more tired than ever. The weight of the day's events presses down on me, making every step feel like a mile. As I enter my room, I drop my bag on the floor and collapse onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. I pull out my notebook from my bag, the one with the drawings I've been making throughout the years. I flip through the pages, each one a snapshot of a moment that has brought me closer to the truth. And there it is—the first drawing, the one I made under that tree with Sider, so long ago. We're both smiling, our heads bent together as we whisper secrets. It seems like a lifetime has passed since then. So much has changed—our friendship, our village, even me. I trace my finger over the lines of our faces, feeling the ghost of a smile tug at my lips. We were so innocent back then, so oblivious to the darkness that would soon come.
I close the notebook and tuck it under my pillow.

The next day, I decide to take a walk in the forest, hoping the fresh air will clear my head. I put on my favorite sweater, the one my mother made for me. It's soft and warm, and it feels like a hug from her. As I step outside, the cool breeze whispers through the leaves, and the sun filters down through the branches in golden shafts. The forest is alive with the sounds of animals going about their day—birds singing, squirrels chattering, the distant hoot of an owl. It's a stark contrast to the tension of the village and the trials.
As I walk deeper into the woods, I feel the weight of the world slip away. The trees seem to lean in, sharing their secrets with me, and the leaves crunch beneath my feet like the pages of a book.
I come to a clearing and stop, my breath catching in my throat. There, standing in the middle of the sunlit space, is the blue-eyed fox from before. It looks at me, its eyes filled with a knowing look.
"Hello," I say softly.

The fox tilts its head, as if considering my words, then turns and trots away. I watch it go, feeling a strange pull to follow. It leads me through the woods, weaving in and out of the trees with a grace that seems almost human. But just as suddenly as it appeared, it stops and stomps away, leaving a strange, human-like footprint in the soft earth.
For a moment, I'm torn. Should I follow it? But something tells me that this isn't the time for more adventure. So I don't. Instead, I continue on my path, my eyes peeled for any sign of the creature.
As I round a bend, I spot something that doesn't quite fit the natural landscape—an old cabin, tucked away in a grove of trees. The paint is peeling, and the roof is overgrown with ivy, but there's something inviting about it. A sense of nostalgia washes over me, and I can't help but feel that I've seen this place before.
I push open the creaking door, and the musty scent of age fills my nose. Inside, the cabin is sparse but cozy, with a fireplace that looks like it hasn't seen a flame in years. And on the mantle, there's a picture frame, dusty and slightly askew. I cross the room and pick it up, my heart racing.
The photo inside is of my mother, my sister, my father and me—a happy family, frozen in time. I stare at it, unable to believe my eyes. How did this get here? Why is it here?
The picture is faded, but I can make out my mother's smile, so much like my own. And there's my sister, with her bright blue eyes, so much like the fox's. She's holding a bouquet of flowers, her hair cascading down her back. I look closer and see that the bouquet isn't just flowers—it's made of feathers, too.
The sight of her smile, so much like my own, sends a shiver down my spine. It's eerie, unsettling. I put the picture down and step back, feeling a sense of unease that I can't quite shake.
As I turn to leave, I catch a glint of something in the corner of my eye. It's a book, half-hidden by a cobweb. I dust it off and flip through the pages, my heart racing.
It's a journal, and it's written in my sister's handwriting.

The first entry reads: "Someone's watching me."
The words jump off the page, sending a chill down my spine. The handwriting is unmistakably hers—loopy and full of life, just like she was. I sit down on the dusty floor, the book clutched to my chest. My eyes scan the pages, my heart racing with every word.

Her second entry is more cryptic: "The fox with blue eyes visits me at night."
I flip through the pages, my heart hammering in my chest. Could it be the same fox that I've encountered? Is this all connected somehow? 
Her third entry is run. Not written, but a single word, scribbled over and over again. The ink is smudged, as if she had been in a hurry—or distress.
I sit there, the journal trembling in my hands. What could have happened to her? Why was she so afraid?

With a deep breath, I force myself to stand. I slip the journal into my pocket and make my way back to the village, my thoughts racing. Every step feels like a betrayal, as if I'm running from the very truth I've been searching for. But I know that I can't tell anyone about this—not my mom, not Sonne, and definitely not Sider or Rose. They'll think I'm crazy, that I'm just looking for more drama to add to my life.
The sun is just peeking over the horizon when I emerge from the woods, casting long shadows across the dew-kissed fields. The village is still wrapped in a soft blanket of morning mist, and the chorus of roosters and distant church bells is the only sound to break the silence. It's a stark contrast to the tumultuous emotions raging within me.

As I walk closer, I can't shake the feeling that I'm being watched. I glance over my shoulder, but there's nothing there—just the swaying of the tall grass and the occasional flutter of a bird's wings. Still, the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I quicken my pace, eager to be behind the safety of my own four walls.
When I finally arrive at the village, the bustle of the early morning seems almost too much. I'm used to the quiet of the forest, and the noise feels like an assault on my senses. I make my way to the café, hoping that a cup of tea will help me process everything I've just read.

Inside, the warmth envelops me like a blanket, and the smell of freshly baked bread fills the air. I take a seat by the window and order my usual—a cup of chamomile with a dash of honey. As I wait, I pull out the journal, my eyes scanning the pages, searching for clues. But every entry just raises more questions.

And then I find it—the fourth entry. "Sister, mom, death, gift." It's written in the same frantic scribble as the rest, but these words stand out like a beacon in the dark. I read them over and over, trying to piece together what they could mean. Sister—that's me. Mom—our mother. Death—my sister's, I assume, given the context. But what could the gift be?

The fifth entry is even more cryptic: "Summer, born, her, fake, kill." The words are scrawled hastily, as if my sister had been interrupted mid-sentence. I feel a knot form in my stomach. I was born in the summer. Was it me? Was it a secret I wasn't meant to know? And what could she mean by "fake"? Was she referring to someone in the village, or something more sinister?

The sixth entry : "Patience, time, age, her, gift." I stare at the words, trying to make sense of them. Patience, time, and age all seem to be nudging towards something inevitable, a process that can't be rushed. "Her"—did she mean me, or someone else? And what was the gift she spoke of?

The seventh entry reads: "Mother, hide, fake, want, gift." This one hits me like a ton of bricks. Mother—our mother. Hide—was she hiding something? Fake—what was she referring to? And then there's the word "want." Did she want something from me? Or was she talking about someone else's desire?

The eighth entry: "Ocean, plan, help, hole." I stare at the words, my mind racing. Ocean—it has to be significant. Plan—what plan? Help—who needs help? And hole—what could that possibly mean?

The ninth entry: "Coming, soon, run, watching." The tension in the words is palpable. Coming—who or what is coming? Soon—how soon? Run—should I be preparing to run? And watching—who's watching me? The fox? The person who left the journal? Or is it something more sinister?

The tenth and final entry: "Sister, future, mother, death, friend, happy, sad, kill." My heart skips a beat as I read it. Sister—me. Future—what does it hold? Mother—our mother's death? And then, the most chilling of all—friend and kill. Was she talking about someone we both knew? Or was she foretelling an event that would shake the very foundation of our lives?

I sit there, the journal clutched in my trembling hands, feeling like I'm holding onto the last piece of my sister. The words echo in my mind, a haunting melody that I can't shake. I take a sip of my tea, but it's gone cold. The warmth of the café does nothing to dispel the chill that has settled in my bones.

And then, as if my thoughts have conjured her, my mother walks through the door. She scans the room, her eyes landing on me with a smile that lights up her face. Panic flutters in my chest. I can't let her see this—not yet. I slide the journal under the napkin, my heart pounding like a drum in my ears.
"Blossom, darling," she says, her voice warm as she approaches the table. "What are you doing here so early?"
"Couldn't sleep," I mumble, taking another sip of my now cold tea. "Just needed some fresh air."
Her eyes narrow, and for a moment, I'm sure she's going to call me out on my lie. But then she sighs, and the tension in her shoulders relaxes.
"Well, you know you can always come to me if something's bothering you," she says, her hand on my shoulder.
I nod, the weight of the journal pressing against my leg like a guilty conscience. "I know, Mom."
We make small talk, her voice a soothing balm to my frazzled nerves. But the entire time, all I can think about is the journal and the secrets it holds. My mother's smile feels forced, and her eyes seem to search my face for answers I can't give her. It's like she knows something's wrong, but she's giving me space.
When she leaves, I pull out the journal again, feeling the warmth of the pages against my fingertips. The words are burned into my brain, a puzzle I need to solve.
Once home, I slip the journal into a secret compartment in my dresser, my hands shaking. I need to keep it hidden—from everyone. I don't know what's happening, but I can feel the tension in the air thickening, like the calm before a storm. I need to be careful.
In the kitchen, I make myself a sandwich, the simple act of spreading jam on bread grounding me. But even as I chew, my thoughts are racing. Who's been watching me? What's the fake thing my sister mentioned? And what does it have to do with Ocean?
The house feels suffocating, so I grab my cloak and head back out into the village. The streets are empty, the early morning dew still glistening on the cobblestones. I walk aimlessly, my eyes scanning the familiar sights for anything out of place.
But all I find is the same old village, the same old people going about their day. And yet, everything feels different. Like there's a secret hidden beneath the surface, waiting to be uncovered.
                                                            Chapter 17

As I pass the town square, I spot Rose sitting on a bench, her eyes fixed on me. She waves, a mischievous smile playing on her lips.
"Hey, Blossom," she calls out. "Want to play a game?"
I shake my head, my mind still racing with the journal's revelations. "Not now, Rose."
"Oh, come on," she says, jumping up. "You know you want to."
"I said no," I reply firmly, trying to keep the edge out of my voice. But she's like a mosquito—persistent and annoying.
"Fine," she says, her eyes gleaming. "Let's play Shades of Red."
The game is simple—you have to guess the exact shade of red of an object she points to. It's a childish game, one we used to play to pass the time. But something about her tone makes me suspicious.
"Why do you want to play that?" I ask, crossing my arms.
"Because it's fun," she says, her smile widening. "Don't you remember?"
"Yeah," I say, rolling my eyes. "I remember."
"So, what do you say?"
I sigh, knowing that if I don't play, she'll just keep pestering me. "Okay, fine."
We start with a red apple in a basket at the market. "Crimson," I say. She nods, and we move on to a red flower in a garden. "Scarlet," I murmur. Again, she nods.
As we play, I can't shake the feeling that she's watching me, studying me. And when she points to a shady spot under a tree, I know she's up to something.
"Maroon," I say, eyeing her warily.
"Wrong," she laughs. "It's more of a burgundy."
My eyes narrow. "How do you even know that?"
"Because," she says, leaning in close.
Suddenly, she points at me. "Your turn, Blossom. What's the shade of red on your face right now?"
I stare at her, my cheeks heating up. "What are you talking about?"
"Oh, come on," she says, her voice like honey. "You're blushing. It's so cute."
"I'm not blushing," I protest, even though I know she's right.
"Yes, you are," she says, her eyes sparkling. "It's like the color of a freshly plucked rose."
I swallow, my throat dry. "What do you want, Rose?"
"Just to play the game," she says, her smile never wavering. "Now, point at something and tell me the shade."
I jab a finger at her. "Dark red," I say, my voice low and steady. "Your blood."
Her smile falters, and for a moment, I see fear in her eyes. "What?"
"You heard me," I say, my voice cold. "Your blood. The same color it'll be when I'm through with you."
"You're joking right?"
"Am I?" I ask, taking a step closer. "Or am I just tired of you?"
The tension between us is palpable, a silent dance of threat and fear. Then, as if a spell has been broken, she laughs—a brittle, forced sound.
"You're so dramatic," she says, turning on her heel. "You've always been like that."
But I know she's shaken. I can see it in the way her hand shakes as she tucks a stray hair behind her ear.
As she walks away, I realize the truth of my own words. I wouldn't kill anyone. Not even her. But the anger inside me is real, a living, breathing creature that's been coiled up for too long.
The thought of what I've just said sends a shiver down my spine. But I can't take it back—not now, not after everything that's happened. I watch her disappear into the crowd, feeling both relief and disappointment.
I wouldn't kill anyone, I tell myself firmly. But I'm not going to let them push me around either.
The game forgotten, I continue my walk, the cool breeze whispering through the leaves above me. The sound is soothing, but it does nothing to calm the storm in my chest.
As I turn a corner, I spot a clothing store with a familiar sign swinging above the door—Sider's father's store.
I stop, my heart racing. I haven't seen him since the night of my birthday. And the thought of facing him now, with everything I know, is terrifying.
But I have to. I have to know the truth.
I sneak into his house, the memories of our childhood games rushing back to me. The globe that answers questions—it's there, in his room. I remember the countless times we'd play with it, asking it silly things like "What's the capital of the moon?" or "What does a dragon taste like?"
Now, I have a question that's not so trivial.
I tiptoe up the stairs, my heart hammering in my chest. The house is eerily quiet, as if it's holding its breath. When I reach his room, I can feel his presence—his anger, his pain.
But I push aside the fear and grab the globe, whispering the words that will unlock its secrets.
"Tell me about the night my sister disappeared," I say, my voice trembling.
The globe lights up, the swirling colors inside coming to a stop.
And then, I hear footsteps. Heavy, determined footsteps that can only belong to one person.
Sider has caught me.
                                              ────── 〔✿〕──────
I swivel around, the globe clutched tightly to my chest. His eyes are cold, his jaw set. "What are you doing here?" he growls.
"I—I need to know," I stutter, the globe feeling heavier with each passing second. "What happened to her?"
He takes a step towards me, his eyes never leaving the globe. "Give it to me," he says.
I quickly open a window and crawl out, the globe clutched to my chest. The cool night air rushes past me, and for a moment, I feel free.
But the feeling is short-lived as I hear the window slam shut behind me.
I jump to the ground, the impact jarring. My heart races as I look around, he was catching up.
I run, my legs pumping as fast as they can. The cobblestone streets blur beneath my feet, and the sound of my breath is the only thing I can hear.
But it's not just Sider I'm running from. It's the truth—the truth about my sister, the truth about Ocean, and the truth about me.
The wind whispers through the trees, carrying with it the scent of rain. The first droplets kiss my face as I sprint down the alleyways, dodging through the shadows.
And then, ahead of me, I see it—a crowd of people, all dressed in their finest, spilling out of the grand hall. Knights stand at the entrance, their arms folded, their faces stern.
"Halt," one of them calls out as I approach. "You can't go in without a pass."
"Please," I pant, my voice desperate. 
The knight's eyes narrow, his hand on the hilt of his sword. "You're not on the list."
"Is it really that hard to just let me in!?"
The knight refuses. I look around, desperate for an escape. That's when I see it—a bush, thick and full, providing the perfect cover.
Without a second thought, I dive behind it, my heart racing like a wild horse. The globe is still glowing in my hands, the secrets it holds pulsing with every beat.

But as I catch my breath, I realize that Sider is nowhere to be seen. I peek out from behind the bush, expecting to see his furious face. But all I see is the back of his head disappearing into the distance.
My grip on the globe loosens slightly, and I let out a shaky sigh of relief. But it's short-lived. The questions in my mind are like a swarm of bees, buzzing and demanding answers.
I push myself up from the ground, the rain now coming down in a steady drizzle. The globe feels like a hot coal in my hand, burning with the weight of its secrets.
I decide to go back to the cottage, to the safety of my room. Maybe there, I can finally get some answers.
As I turn to leave, I see something that makes my blood run cold.
Sider is standing there, just a few feet away, his eyes on the globe. He hadn't been chasing me at all—he'd been waiting for me to come to him.
Before I can react, he snatches it from my hand, his grip like iron. "You shouldn't have taken this," he says, his voice low and dangerous.
The world around me seems to slow down, the rain freezing in mid-air.
"You have no idea what you're playing with," he adds, his eyes never leaving the globe.
I stand there, trembling, as he turns and walks away, the globe in his possession once again.
And all I can do is watch him go, feeling the coldness of the night seep into my bones.
But as I watch him disappear into the shadows, something in me snaps. I won't let him win—not now, not ever. I follow him, my feet splashing in the puddles.
I have to get that globe back—it's the key to everything.
The rain is now a downpour, soaking me to the skin. But I don't care.
All I care about is the truth. And I will do whatever it takes to get it. The streets are empty, the only sound the rhythmic patter of raindrops. The globe's light is the only guide in the darkness, a beacon leading me to Sider.
My heart races as I follow him, the water mixing with my tears.
But I won't let him win. I can't.
I follow him to the edge of the village, where the cobblestone streets give way to the dirt path leading into the woods.
And there, in the heart of the storm, we stand face to face, the globe a silent third party in our heated standoff.
"Please," I say, my voice shaking. "I need it."
Sider's eyes flick to me, then back to the globe. "Why?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Because she's my sister," I reply, the words catching in my throat. "And I need to know what happened to her."
"And you think I would care?"
"Well, if you truly didn't care, you wouldn't be standing here listening. So maybe there's a part of you that knows this matters more than you let on."
The rain beats down on us, our clothes sticking to our bodies like a second skin. For a moment, we just stand there, the tension so thick it feels like it could snap at any second.
Then, without a word, Sider holds out the globe. "Ask your question," he says.
I open my mouth and Sider laughs. "You thought it was that easy?" He takes a step closer, the rain mixing with the shadows on his face. "You're going to have to earn it."
And with that, he tosses the globe into the air, a challenge in his eyes.
The globe shatters into pieces.
"What the heck Sider!"
Sider smirks at me, the rain running down his face like tears. "Looks like you're going to have to find another way to get your answers," he says, before turning and disappearing into the woods.
Now what?
                                                        Chapter 18
I sit in my room, the rain still falling outside, my thoughts racing like the droplets down the window pane. I haven't talked to Sonne in a while, and the guilt of keeping the journal's secrets from him gnaws at me like a persistent hunger.
I decide to call him, but the phone just rings and rings. No answer.
I feel a pang of disappointment. I need to talk to him—to tell him everything.
But the silence on the other end feels like a door slammed shut in my face.
I hang up and sit there, staring at the phone. It's like he's slipping away from me, and I don't know how to stop it.
I want to scream, to throw something—anything to break the silence. But all I can do is sit here, alone, with the storm outside mirroring the one inside me.
The clock ticks away the minutes, each one feeling like an eternity. I can't stay here—not like this.
I grab my cloak and head out into the rain, the droplets stinging my skin. The village is a blur, the lights shimmering through the downpour.
I need to find him, to explain.
As I make my way to his house, the rain starts to let up, leaving a fresh, clean scent in the air.
But when I get there, his lights are off. No sign of life.
I knock anyway, the sound echoing through the quiet night.
But no one answers.

I stand there for what feels like hours, the rain soaking me to the bone. But there's no response—only the whisper of the wind.
With a heavy heart, I turn and walk back to the cottage, the journal's words echoing in my mind.
"Mother, hide, fake, want, gift." What did it all mean?
The questions swirl like leaves in the storm, and I realize that I'm no closer to the truth than I was when I found the journal.
But I won't give up. I can't.
I have to keep searching, keep digging.
Because somewhere out there, my sister's story is waiting to be told.
And I'm the only one who can tell it.

Back in my room, I peel off my wet clothes and wrap myself in a warm blanket. The journal calls to me from its hiding place, its secrets whispering my name.
I pull it out, the pages sticking together slightly from the dampness.
But as I begin to read, the words come alive, each one a puzzle piece waiting to be placed.
I'm drawn back into the cabin, into the world of my sister's fear and confusion.
And then, tucked between the pages, I find it—a small, faded photograph. A family portrait. My mother, father, and sister, all smiling into the camera.
The sight of their happy faces stabs at my heart. My sister looked so much like me—the same brown eyes, the same wild hair. 
My mother's smile is gentle, my father's proud. And there, in the background, is the blue-eyed fox, its fur shimmering like a jewel.
The sight of them together sends a shiver down my spine. What did this mean? Was the fox somehow connected to her death?
I study the picture, looking for any clue, any hint of what could have happened.
But all I find is a memory—a memory of a time when they were all together, a time before the darkness crept in.

The smell of roasting meat wafts up, and I know it's dinner time. But when I look into the mirror, the face staring back at me isn't my own.
It's the face of someone who's seen too much, who's lost too much.
How can I sit across from my mother and pretend everything's okay?
How can I look into her eyes and not see the secrets she's been keeping?

I take a deep breath, my hand shaking as I push open the door to the kitchen.
The warmth of the room wraps around me, but it feels false—like a hug from a stranger.
My mother turns from the stove, a smile on her lips. "Blossom, you're just in time," she says, her eyes lighting up.
But the sight of her only makes the ache in my chest grow stronger.
I force a smile, trying to hide the turmoil inside. "What's for dinner?"
"Your favorite," she says, her voice cheerful. "Spiced chicken with rosemary potatoes."
My stomach turns. I'm not hungry. But I sit down at the table, because that's what I'm supposed to do.
As we eat, the conversation is stilted, like we're two actors playing a scene we know by heart.
My mother asks about school, about the trials. I give her the answers she wants to hear, the ones that won't make her worry.
But every bite feels like a lie on my tongue.
I can't tell her the truth—not yet. Not until I know what really happened to my sister.
Not until I know why she had to hide her journal from everyone, including me.
After dinner, I retreat to my room, the walls closing in around me.
The rain has stopped, but the silence feels deafening.
I pull out the photograph again, running my thumb over the fox's image.
What does it all mean? Why was the fox there? Was it a sign of protection or a harbinger of doom?
The questions swirl in my mind like a tornado, picking up speed, leaving destruction in its wake.
                                              ────── 〔✿〕──────

The next morning, I force myself out of bed and get dressed for school. The archery lesson looms in front of me like a storm cloud, and the thought of facing Rose again makes me want to crawl back under the covers.
But I know I can't hide forever.
As I walk through the village, the world seems to tilt on its axis. The colors are too bright, the sounds too loud.
I'm in a daze, my thoughts racing a mile a minute.
But when I enter the archery range, everything changes.
The moment I nock an arrow, the chaos in my head subsides.
The world narrows down to the target, and all I can focus on is the steady beat of my heart.
For a moment, I'm not the girl with the broken family—I'm just Blossom, the archer.
Rose struts over, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Couldn't stay away, could you?" she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
I ignore her, focusing on my breathing. But as I let the arrow fly, she coughs loudly, throwing off my shot.
The arrow hits the outer ring, and she laughs. "Nice try, Blossom," she says, her smile like a knife.
"You know, I wasn't joking the other day. I could kill you with one of these right now." I say, my voice eerily calm.
Her smile falters for a moment, but she quickly recovers. "Is that a threat?"
"Just a fact," I reply, my eyes never leaving hers.
The tension between us is palpable, like a tightly strung bow.
"You know Sider told me yesterday that you were begging to have that stupid little glob thing."
"Begging? Hardly. I prefer to think of it as having exquisite taste, something you clearly wouldn't understand." I let a smirk dance across my lips, leaning in just slightly. "But let's not forget, it's the ones who underestimate their opponents that often end up in the crosshairs."
Her eyes narrow.
But then she laughs, the sound echoing through the clearing. "You're more entertaining than I thought."
"Just remember, Rose," I say, picking up another arrow. "The hunted can become the hunter."
I let the arrow fly, and this time, it hits the bullseye.
Rose laughs and walks past me. "Pathetic."
But her words don't sting as much as they usually do.
I know now that she's just trying to get a reaction out of me.
And I won't give her the satisfaction.
The rest of the lesson is a blur, but I manage to keep my cool.

As we finish up, the instructor calls us over to the rope climbing station.
"Today, we're going to test your strength and agility," she says, her eyes scanning the group. "The first one to the top wins."
A murmur goes through the crowd, and I feel the weight of everyone's gaze on me.
They're expecting me to win.
But as I look up at the rope, swaying in the breeze, all I can think about is the journal, the photograph, and the blue-eyed fox.
My sister's voice whispers in my ear, "Run."
I take a deep breath and grip the rope, my hands slick with sweat.
The climb is a battle, each hand and foot feeling like it's fighting against me.
But I don't give up.
I climb, one painstaking inch at a time, until finally, I'm at the top.
The wind whips through my hair, and I look down at the ground below.
I've done it. I've won.
But as I climb down, the wind whispers something that sends a chill down my spine.
"Run."
The word echoes in my head, louder than ever before.

When I get home, I'm exhausted—both physically and emotionally.
My mother is in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for dinner.
"You look tired," she says, her eyes full of concern.
"I am," I reply, collapsing into a chair. "I don't know if I can do this."
"Do what, Blossom?"
"Find the truth," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "Every time I think I'm getting closer, it just slips away."
She sets down her knife and comes to me, her hand on my shoulder. "You have a gift," she says. "A gift for finding things that are lost."
I think about the journal, tucked safely away in my bag. Is this the gift my sister was talking about?
"Oh, thanks," I murmur to myself, the words feeling empty.
My mother's voice snaps me back to reality. "Well, do you want to help me make dinner?" she asks, wiping her hands on her apron.
I nod, forcing a smile. "Sure."

As we cook, I can't help but feel the weight of the secrets between us.
I want to tell her about the journal, about the blue-eyed fox. But I don't know how.
The silence stretches out like a tightrope, and I feel like I'm about to fall.
Finally, we sit down to eat, the smell of the food filling the room.
My mother says grace, and we dig in.
The meal is quiet, but not uncomfortable. It's a companionable silence, the kind that comes from years of shared moments.
We eat until our plates are clean, and then she gets up, grabbing her coat from the hook by the door.
"I'm going to go visit a friend," she says, her voice light.
But her eyes are tight, like she's holding something back.
I nod, pretending not to notice. "Okay," I say, my voice too bright. "I'll clean up."
But as she walks out the door, I can't help but feel a twinge of sadness.
What is she hiding?
What is she afraid of?
                                                  Chapter 19
The next day, I wake up to the sound of birds chirping outside.
It takes me a moment to realize that it's a weekend—no school.
My mother comes into my room, a gentle smile on her face. "Blossom, there's no school today. I need you to run some errands for me."
I nod sleepily, not really listening. But as she lists off the items she needs, something catches my attention.
"Oh, and when you go to the market, don't go into the woods. There's been talk of wild animals."
The words "wild animals" echo in my head, and I sit up straight. "Okay," I say, trying to keep the excitement out of my voice.
As soon as she's out of the room, I grab my cloak and head out the door.
But as I'm walking through the village, I see something that makes me stop dead in my tracks.
Sider is walking into the forest, his head down, looking suspicious.
I hesitate for a moment, the errands forgotten.
Should I follow him?
My heart thumps in my chest as I make my decision.
I have to know what he's up to.

I slip into the woods, my eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of him.
The trees are tall and ancient, whispering secrets to each other that I'm not meant to hear.
But I'm not deterred.
I follow the path he took, the leaves crunching under my boots.
Finally, I spot him up ahead, his cloak a flash of red in the sea of green.
I pull back into the shadows, my heart racing.
I can't let him know I'm here.
I climb up into a tree, my skills coming in handy as I scale the branches.
The bark is rough against my skin, but I ignore it, focusing instead on staying as still as possible.
I watch him from my perch, his movements jerky and tense.
What is he looking for?
I wait, my muscles starting to ache, the minutes stretching into hours.
But just when I'm about to give up, he stops.
He turns in a slow circle, his eyes scanning the woods.
"I know you're there," he says, his voice echoing through the trees.
I freeze, my breath catching in my throat.
But I don't move.
What does he mean? How could he know?
I hold my breath, willing him to leave.
But he just stands there, his eyes locked on the spot where I'm hiding.

Then, as if he's come to a decision, he starts to walk towards me.
I tighten my grip on the branch, my knuckles white.
He's going to find me.
"You might as well come down," he calls out, his voice echoing through the trees. "I know you're there."
I sigh and get off the branch, my boots hitting the ground with a soft thud.
I pull back my hood, my eyes meeting his.
"What do you want?" I ask, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice.
"What do I want? Your the one who was spying on me," he says.
"I wasn't spying," I protest. "I was just... I don't know. Following you."
"Why?"
"Because... because I need to know what's going on."
"And what makes you think I know anything?"
I shrug.
He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "Look, I'm not going to tell you anything if you're going to be like this."
"Like what?"
"Sneaky."
"I'm not sneaky."
"Then why were you hiding?"
"Because I didn't want you to know I was following you."
"So you are sneaky."
"No, I'm just... curious."
"Curiosity killed the cat," he says, his eyes narrowing.
"But satisfaction brought it back," I reply. "Anyways, I got to go run some errands."
I turn and walk back to the village.
What was he doing in the woods? What secrets is he keeping?
As I get closer to the market, the sounds of laughter and bargaining fill the air.
The smell of fresh bread wafts towards me, making my stomach growl.
But I can't focus on that. I have to find out what he's hiding.
                                                 ────── 〔✿〕──────
It was a nice Friday morning, and I decided to spend some time in the library.
The dusty books called to me, their pages whispering of adventures and secrets.
I found myself lost in the sea of knowledge, flipping through tomes about ancient battles and forgotten spells.
But my quiet solitude is shattered when a group of guards bursts through the door.
"You," one of them says, pointing at me. "You're the one who killed Lady Elara."
I stare at them, my heart racing. "What? No, that's not true."
But they don't listen. They just keep coming closer, their swords drawn.
Panic sets in, and I know I have to get out of here.
I push past them, knocking over a stack of books in my haste.
The librarian gasps, but I don't stop to apologize.
I run out of the library and into the streets, the guards' footsteps echoing behind me.
The village is a blur as I sprint through the cobblestone streets.
But I know where I'm going. The nearest house is Sider's.
I pound on the door, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
It opens a crack, and I see his surprised face.
"Sider, let me in," I say, desperation lacing my voice. "They think I killed someone."
He stares at me for a moment before stepping aside.
I run in and slam the door behind me, my back against it.
The guards are pounding on the door now, their shouts growing louder.
What have I gotten myself into?
"You'd better have a good explanation for this," Sider says, his arms crossed.
"I don't know," I say, trying to catch my breath. "I was just reading, and they came for me."
"They said you killed Lady Elara," he says, his voice cold.
"But that's impossible. I didn't do it."
He looks at me for a long moment before nodding. "Okay. But if they find you here, it'll make me look guilty too."
I nod, my eyes wide with fear.
"Come on," he says, leading me upstairs to his room. "We need to figure out what's going on."
As we sit on his bed, the guards' shouts fade into the background.
I can't believe this is happening.
How did I go from a quiet day at the library to being a fugitive?
Sider grabs a book off his shelf and tosses it aside, revealing a hidden compartment.
He pulls out a rope ladder and gestures towards the floor. "We have to go," he says. "There's a trapdoor under my bed."
I look at him, my eyes wide. "What?"
"Just trust me," he says, his voice urgent.
And so, with trembling hands, I climb under the bed and down the ladder into the cold, dark abyss.
The ladder leads us into a narrow sewer tunnel, the smell of damp earth and rot filling my nose.
I cough, trying not to gag.
"This way," Sider says, his voice barely audible in the darkness.
We crawl through the tunnels, the water up to our knees.
I can't help but think about the creatures that might be lurking in the shadows.
Finally, we come to a dead end.
A heavy metal door with a lock.
Sider pulls out a set of picks and gets to work.
The lock clicks open, and we crawl through into a damp, musty room.
It's a dungeon, and it looks like we're trapped.
The walls are thick with moss, and there's no way out.
We're surrounded by bars and darkness.
And just as we realize our mistake, we hear footsteps approaching.
"Now what?" I whisper, my voice shaking.
Sider looks at me, his eyes reflecting the same fear I feel. "We hide."
We scramble into the corner, pressing ourselves against the cold stone wall.
The footsteps get closer, and I hold my breath.
They stop right outside our cell, and a key scrapes against the lock. Then, the entrance we came from gets locked up. We have no way out.

The person steps into the room, and we can see their silhouette in the flickering torchlight.
It's a guard.
He looks around, his eyes scanning the darkness.
For a moment, I think we're safe.
But then he sees us.
"You two," he says, his voice gruff. "What are you doing here?"
We stare at him, not knowing what to say.
"I-I got lost," I stutter out. "And he was just helping me find my way."
He grunts, not looking convinced.
"What's your name, girl?"
"Blossom," I reply.
"Well, Blossom, you're coming with me," he says, grabbing my arm.
Sider tries to protest, but the guard just sneers at him.
"And what about me?" he asks.
"You can stay here," the guard says. "I don't need two runaways on my hands."
As he drags me out of the cell, I look back at Sider, my heart racing.
What's going to happen to him?
What's going to happen to me?
The guard leads me through the winding corridors of the castle, and I can feel the eyes of the other prisoners on me.
They're all watching, waiting to see what happens next.
We come to a stop in front of a heavy wooden door.
The guard opens it, and I'm pushed inside.
The room is small, with only a single chair and a desk.
On the desk sits the queen, her eyes cold and unyielding.
"Blossom," she says, her voice like ice. "What have you done?"
I swallow hard. "I didn't kill Lady Elara," I reply. "I swear."
"We'll see about that," she says, her gaze piercing through me.
"But I can explain—"
"Save it," she snaps. "You're going to be questioned."
The door slams shut, and I'm left alone with my fear.
What kind of questioning is she talking about?
What will they do to me?
The minutes tick by, each one feeling like an eternity.
I'm about to scream when the door opens again, and a figure steps into the room.
Its my mom.

Her eyes are filled with tears, and she looks so small and fragile.
"Mom," I whisper, my voice breaking.
"Oh, Blossom," she says, rushing over to me. "What have you gotten yourself into?"
"I didn't do it," I say, my voice shaking. "I don't know what's happening."
She takes my hand and squeezes it tight. "I believe you," she says. "But we need to get you out of here."
"How?"
"Leave that to me," she says, her voice firm. "But you have to be strong."
She pulls out a small knife from her pocket and presses it into my hand. "If things get bad, use this."
I nod, clutching the knife like a lifeline.
"I'll be right outside," she says, giving me a quick hug. "I love you."
The door closes again, and I'm left with the sound of my own breathing.
I look down at the knife in my hand, feeling a spark of hope.
But then the door opens again, and two guards enter the room. They drag me out, and we head down a long, cold corridor.
Their grip is firm, and I can feel the fear building up inside of me.
We stop in front of a large, ornate door.
One of the guards opens it, and we enter a grand chamber.
In the center is a throne, and on it sits the queen, her eyes boring into me.
"You stand accused of the murder of Lady Elara," she says, her voice cold and formal. "How do you plead?"
"Not guilty," I reply, trying to keep my voice steady.
"Very well," she says. "Let the questioning begin."
The guards force me to sit in a chair, the knife still hidden in my hand.
A man in a black cloak steps forward, his eyes glinting in the torchlight.
"What is your relationship with the accused?" he asks Sider, who has been brought in and is now standing next to me.
"We're... friends," Sider says, his voice unsure.
"Friends?" the queen repeats, her voice laced with skepticism. "Is that all?"
"Yes," I say, my voice firm. "We're just friends."
The man in black turns to me. "And why would you want to kill Lady Elara?"
"I didn't," I say. "I don't even know her."
"Lies," he sneers. "We have witnesses who say they saw you fighting with her the night she died."
I raise an eyebrow. "Witnesses? Or perhaps simply bystanders who misinterpreted a moment of heated conversation? In a world filled with shadows, it’s easy to mistake a flicker for a flame." I step forward, matching the intensity of his glare. "If you’re going to accuse me, at least bring forth credible evidence, not whispers and half-truths. Because my loyalty lies with my friends, and I will not stand idly by while you paint me as a villain in your twisted tale."
The room goes quiet, and the queen's gaze sharpens.
I can feel the weight of their stares, but I don't flinch.
"I will have the truth," she says, her voice low.
"Then let us proceed," I reply.
The questioning goes on for what feels like hours, each question more intense than the last.
But I stand firm, my resolve unwavering.
I know I'm innocent, and I'm not going to let them break me.
Sider's eyes never leave me, and I can see the doubt in his gaze.
I wonder if he's starting to believe me.
Finally, the queen speaks up. "This is enough," she says. "We will take a recess."
The guards release me, and I stand up, my legs shaking.
Sider's mom, steps forward, her eyes full of anger. "This is ridiculous," she says. "My son would never harbor a murderer."
The queen looks at her, a hint of annoyance on her face. "Your son has been seen with her in the woods," she says. "Alone."
I step forward. "With all due respect, Your Majesty, just because we were seen together doesn’t mean we were plotting anything sinister. Perhaps your spies should focus on gathering facts instead of weaving tales. If you truly believe in justice, then let the truth unveil itself rather than jumping to conclusions. My friendship with Sider is innocent, just like our right to be treated fairly."

The room is silent for a moment before the queen nods. "You're right," she says. "We will reconvene tomorrow. In the meantime, I want you both under guard."
The guards take us back to our cells, and I collapse onto the cold stone bench.
My mother's words echo in my head. "Be strong."
I look around the damp, dark space, feeling more alone than ever.
Who is trying to kill me?

The next day, the questioning continues.
The man wearing black is relentless, throwing accusation after accusation at me.
But I stand firm, my voice never wavering.
I don't know how much more of this I can take.
Sider sits in his own cell, his eyes haunted.
We're not allowed to speak to each other, but I can feel his presence.
He's in this just as much as I am.

"Why do you think you're not guilty?" the man in black asks, his tone mocking.
I look him in the eye. "Because I know who I am," I reply. "And I know that I would never harm an innocent person."
"And what if we find evidence that says otherwise?"
"Then I would expect you to present it," I say, my voice calm. "But until then, I stand by my word."
The room is silent, the only sound the crackling of the torches.
The queen watches me, her expression unreadable.
Does she believe me?

Suddenly, she stands up. "Guards, leave us," she says, her voice like thunder.
The guards look at each other before reluctantly leaving the room.
It's just the three of us now—me, Sider, and the queen.
"Now," she says, walking towards me. "Tell me the truth. Did you kill Lady Elara?"
Her eyes bore into mine, and I can feel the weight of her power.
But I don't flinch.
"No," I say, my voice strong. "I didn't."
The queen sighs, her shoulders slumping. "I want to believe you," she says. "But you must understand my position. I cannot have someone I suspect of murder running free in my kingdom."
"I understand," I reply. "But I swear to you, I am not the one you seek."

The queen studies me for a long moment before speaking again. "Prove it," she says. "If you truly are innocent, then you must face the ultimate test."
My heart sinks. What could be worse than this?
"What is it?" I ask.
"The truth potion."
Sider's eyes widen in horror.
The queen turns to him. "Looks like someone's guilty." 
A guard brings in a small, ornate bottle filled with a shimmering liquid.
"Drink this," the queen says, holding it out to me. "If you are indeed innocent, it will show."
I take the bottle with trembling hands. "What will happen if I drink it?"
"You will speak only the truth," she says. "For a short time."
I look at Sider, and he nods slightly, urging me on.
I take a deep breath and down the potion in one gulp.
It burns my throat and fills my stomach with a cold, heavy weight.
The room starts to spin, and the queen's voice seems to echo in my head.
"Now," she says. "Tell me everything you know about Lady Elara's death."
"Nothing."
The word is out before I can even think. It's true, I know nothing about Lady Elara's death.
The queen raises an eyebrow, and I can see the doubt in her eyes.
"Everything," she repeats, her voice firm.
"I don't know who killed her," I say, my voice sounding strange, distant. "But I know I didn't."
The potion is working, pulling the truth from my very soul.
Sider looks at me, his eyes full of hope.
The queen nods slowly. "Very well," she says. "You may leave."
The guards unbind us, and we're escorted out of the chamber.
As we walk through the castle, the whispers start.
The word spreads like wildfire.
We're not guilty.
But the look on the queen's face haunts me.
I know she's not convinced.
And I know that this isn't over.
Someone out there wants me to take the fall.
Someone who's watching, waiting for their chance to strike again.
                                                  Chapter 20 
Back at home, I can't shake the feeling of unease that clings to me like a second skin.
The walls seem to whisper accusations, and every shadow holds a potential threat.
I miss the simplicity of the village, the days before all this chaos began.
But most of all, I miss Sonne.
We haven't spoken since the day he invited me for dinner.
His silence is deafening, and it cuts deeper than any sword.
I sit by the fireplace, the flames casting flickering shadows on the wall.
The warmth does little to soothe the coldness in my heart.
Why isn't he talking to me?
Did he think I was lying about the killing?
Or is it something else?

The door opens, and my mother enters, her eyes tired.
"How was it?" she asks, sitting down next to me.
"They believe me," I reply, my voice hollow. "For now."
"That's good," she says, her tone forced. "But we can't let our guard down."
We sit in silence for a while, the crackling of the fire the only sound in the room.
Then she says, "I know you miss Sonne."
Tears well up in my eyes, and I nod again.
"I do," I admit. "But I don't know what to do."
"Give him time," she says, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. "He'll come around."
But I'm not so sure.
The silence between us feels like a chasm, one that might never be bridged.

The days pass in a blur, filled with tension and doubt.
I see Sider around the village, but he avoids my gaze.
Is he ashamed of me? Does he think I'm guilty?
I throw myself into my training, pushing my body to its limits.
If I can't control my life, at least I can control this.
But even as I shoot arrows and climb ropes, my mind wanders back to the night in the library.
What was Sider looking for in the forbidden woods?
And why does he seem so lost now?

One evening, as I'm walking home from practice, I see him.
He's sitting by the river, staring into the water.
I really want to ask him why he was like this, why he hated me so much. And why did he help me that day?
But I don't. I just walk past, pretending not to see him.

As I lay in bed that night, my thoughts swirl like a storm.
I can't shake the feeling that there's something he's not telling me.
But what could it be?
                                                 ────── 〔✿〕──────
I lay in bed, my thoughts drifting to the cryptic entry in my sister's journal. The words 'death' and 'gift' lingered in my mind like a haunting melody, their meaning eluding me. Could she have meant by 'death is the gift that keeps on giving'? Was it a twisted riddle, a hint of something darker, or merely the morbid musings of a troubled soul?
The moon cast a soft glow through the window, painting the room in a silver light that seemed to dance around the edges of the shadows. I couldn't help but think of the blue-eyed fox, a silent sentinel in the portrait that had become a symbol of the mysteries I faced.

With a sigh, I sat up and opened the window, letting the cool night air wash over me. The scent of blooming flowers and the distant sound of the river whispered secrets that the daylight never revealed. The village lay quiet below, its residents lost in their own dreams, oblivious to the turmoil that churned within me.
The night breeze was a gentle caress, carrying with it the faint scent of something smoky and metallic—a hint of magic that seemed to beckon me. I leaned out, letting the wind play with my hair, and searched the horizon for any sign of the creature that had been guiding me thus far.
As I did, the leaves of the willow tree outside my window rustled, drawing my attention. There, in the moonlit shadows, the blue-eyed fox sat, watching me with an intensity that seemed to pierce through the veil of the night.
Our eyes met, and for a moment, time seemed to hold its breath. Then, with a graceful leap, it vanished into the darkness, leaving me with a feeling of both excitement and trepidation.
                                               ────── 〔✿〕──────

The next morning, I set out to find the cabin, the fox's presence the night before a silent urging that I couldn't ignore. The path was familiar, the same one I had taken when I first found the cabin.
But when I arrived at the clearing, my heart sank. The cabin was gone, leaving only a circle of charred earth where it once stood. The scent of burnt wood filled the air, a reminder of the destruction that had taken place.
I searched the area, hoping to find some clue, some remnant of the place that had held so much meaning. But the earth was silent, the trees standing as witnesses to an unspoken tragedy.
The loss of the cabin felt like a personal blow, a piece of the puzzle that had been snatched away just as I was getting closer to the truth.
I sank to my knees, the reality of the situation settling like a heavy stone in my stomach. Who would do this? Who was so desperate to keep me from finding my sister that they would destroy the one place she had left behind?

As I sat there, feeling defeated, the rustle of leaves behind me made me jump to my feet, the knife from my mother at the ready. But it was only the blue-eyed fox, its eyes filled with an unspoken understanding.
It stepped into the light, and for the first time, I noticed something different about it. A small, shimmering object was tied around its neck—a necklace with a single, gleaming stone that matched the color of the fox's eyes.
I took a tentative step forward, and the fox scurried away, the necklace glinting in the dappled sunlight as it disappeared into the woods. My hand instinctively went to my own neck, feeling the absence of the necklace I had once owned.

With a heavy heart, I turned back to go to the village. I walked past the cafe where Sonne had invited me to dinner, the memories of our laughter now tinged with the bitter taste of doubt. The chairs were empty, the tables bare, as if the place had been abandoned.
My feet felt like lead as I made my way through the familiar streets, the faces of the villagers a blur of suspicion and accusation. I kept my head down, avoiding their eyes.

As I approached the tavern, I heard the low murmur of voices, the sound of mugs clinking together in a toast. I recognized the laughter of the archery team, a stark contrast to the silence that had become my constant companion.
I wanted to join them, to forget the darkness that had descended upon me, but I knew I couldn't. Not until I had found the truth.
I pushed open the door, the warmth of the room wrapping around me like a comforting embrace.
But the moment I stepped inside, the laughter died down, and all eyes turned to me.
I guess they weren't expecting the real competition to walk in.
I find a spot near the window and order a cup tea  my eyes never leaving the door.
I know I have to keep my guard up, to be ready for whatever comes next.
But even amidst the tension, there's a part of me that hopes for a reprieve.
Maybe, just maybe, I could find a friend in this sea of doubt.
Someone who could see beyond the whispers and accusations.
Someone who knew the real me.

The minutes tick by, and my tea grows cold.
The conversations around me are a blur, the words lost in the thundering of my own thoughts.
And then, just as I'm about to give up, I see him—Sonne, his golden hair catching the light from the fireplace.
My heart skips a beat, and I set the cup down with a clatter that seems to echo through the room.
He's talking to a group of people, his smile wide and easy, his eyes lighting up with every joke.
But when he sees me, the smile falters.
I stand up, my legs feeling like they might give way beneath me.
I need to talk to him, to explain, to make him understand.
With a deep breath, I cross the room, my eyes never leaving his.

The crowd parts as I approach, their whispers following me like a shadow.
When I reach him, I can feel the tension in the air, a palpable force that seems to push us apart.
"Hey," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
He looks at me, his eyes searching mine, looking for the answers I'm not sure I have.
"Can we talk?" I ask, my voice shaking.
For a moment, I think he's going to say no.
But then, he nods, and the relief that floods through me is like a cool summer rain.

We step outside into the night, the cool air a stark contrast to the heat of the tavern.
"I'm sorry," I start, the words tumbling out of me. "I never meant for any of this to happen."
He looks at me, his expression unreadable.
"I know you're still confused about the killing," I say, taking a deep breath. "But I swear, I had nothing to do with Lady Elara's death, or anyone's death."
Sonne is silent for a moment, his eyes searching mine. "I want to believe you," he says finally. "But the evidence..."
"I know," I reply, my voice barely a whisper. "But there's more to this than meets the eye. I'm being framed, and I need to find out why."
"But why you?" he asks. "What could you possibly have to do with all of this?"
"That's what I'm trying to figure out," I say, the weight of the situation pressing down on me.
"I miss you," I finally say, the truth slipping out before I can stop it.
Sonne's expression softens slightly. "I miss you too," he admits. "But I don't know if I can trust you."
The pain of his words is like a dagger to my heart.
"I understand," I reply, trying to keep the tears at bay. "But I need you to believe me. I'm innocent."
He looks away, his jaw clenched. "I want to," he says. "But it's not that simple."
"It could be, if you trusted me then it would be simple," I say, my voice filled with hope.
"But how can I, when everything points to you?"
"Let me prove it," I plead. "Help me find the truth."
"I'm really sorry, Blossom," he says, his voice heavy. "But I can't get involved. It's too dangerous."
The silence between us is a living thing, a heavy weight that presses down on my chest.
I nod, trying to keep the disappointment from my face. "I understand," I repeat, though the words feel hollow.
We stand there for a moment longer, the gap between us wider than ever.
Then, with a sigh, he turns to go back inside, leaving me alone with the shadows.
                                                   ────── 〔✿〕──────
I'm in my room, the moon casting its glow through the window.
I can't shake the feeling of isolation that has wrapped itself around me like a shroud.
Why does it always end up like this?
Why do the people I love turn away from me when I need them most? Why? Why do i always end up alone? All the people I cared about, or loved they all forgot about me or hates me. They listen to lies and lies about me and slowly starts to be afraid or hate me. Why am I always alone?
I wipe my eyes, telling myself that I can't give up.
The blue-eyed fox's necklace, my sister's journal, the cryptic messages—they're all connected.
And I'm the only one who can piece it all together.
I take a deep breath and pick up the journal, turning to the page with the charred edges.
The words seem to stare back at me, a silent challenge.
"I'll find you," I murmur to myself. "I'll find the truth."
                                                          Chapter 21
The days turn into a blur of training and investigation.
I spend every moment I can spare searching for clues, for anything that might point to whoever is behind all of this.
But the more I look, the more the fog thickens.

And so, one evening, I decide to do something drastic.
I sit down at my desk, a quill in hand, and begin to write.
The words flow out of me like a river, an apology to Sonne for everything that's happened.
I tell him about the truth potion, about the whispers that follow me wherever I go.
I pour my heart out onto the page, hoping that somehow, my words can bridge the gap that's grown between us.

"Sonne," I write, "I know you're hurt and confused. I know I've let you down. But I need you to believe me. I didn't kill Lady Elara. I'm not the monster they're making me out to be."
I pause, the quill hovering above the parchment. How do I explain the bond I feel with the blue-eyed fox? The whispers of fate that seem to follow me?
The words come easily, each one a plea for understanding, a declaration of friendship.
"Please," I scribble, my hand shaking. "Help me. I can't do this alone."
The letter is filled with every doubt, every hope, every fear that has plagued me since the night of the murder.
It's a confession, a cry for help, and a promise all rolled into one.
I fold it carefully, seal it with a drop of wax, and press my thumb into the soft crimson wax.
The imprint of my thumb sits there, a symbol of the truth that burns within me.

The next morning, I slip the letter into Sonne's bag when he's not looking.
But then he's gone, swallowed by the hustle and bustle of the village.
I watch him go, my heart in my throat.
What if he reads it and still doesn't believe me? What if he never speaks to me again?

Days pass, the silence between us a heavy weight that I carry with me wherever I go.
The archery tournament is approaching, and I need to be ready.
But it's not just the competition that fuels me now.
It's the need to find the truth, to clear my name, and to prove to Sonne that I'm not the villain in this twisted tale.
I train harder than ever before, pushing my body to the brink of exhaustion.
My mother watches me with a worried expression, but she doesn't say a word.

One night, as I'm heading to bed, I hear a soft knock on the door.
I open it to find Sider standing there, his eyes downcast.
"I need to talk to you," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.
We sit in the candlelit kitchen.
Finally, he looks up at me, his eyes filled with something I've never seen before—fear.
"I know who killed Lady Elara," he says, his voice trembling. "And I think they're coming for you next."
My heart races, the blood roaring in my ears.
This is it, the drastic breakout I've been waiting for.
But instead of relief, all I feel is dread.
If Sider knows the truth, why hasn't he told anyone? Why now?
I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms, and meet his gaze with a steady resolve. “So, let me get this straight,” I say, my voice calm despite the chaos brewing inside me. “You’ve been sitting on this information, and now you choose the dead of night to drop a bombshell? If you really know who killed Lady Elara and think they’re coming for me, then this isn’t just a conversation, Sider—it’s a warning. And I need to know why I should trust you now, when you’ve kept silent all this time.”
He takes a deep breath, his eyes searching my face. “You’re right, I should have said something sooner. But I was afraid. And now, with everything that’s happened, I can’t stay quiet anymore. I think we’re all in danger. The person who killed Lady Elara is someone powerful, someone who’s been manipulating all of us from the shadows. And I think they’re connected to your sister’s disappearance, to the prophecy. 
“Afraid? That’s a flimsy excuse for silence when lives are at stake. We needed your voice sooner, not just when it became convenient for you. But now that you’ve finally decided to speak up, let’s stop hiding behind fear and start unraveling this web together. If someone is pulling the strings, we need to expose them—before they strike again.”
"You're right; silence can feel like complicity, but fear is a powerful force. I understand the urgency, and that’s why I'm here now. Let’s channel this frustration into action."

The air in the room feels charged, crackling with unspoken accusations and accusations.
Sider's eyes dart around the room as if he expects danger to come crashing through the windows at any moment.
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, crumpled piece of paper.
"This is all I have," he says, placing it on the table between us. "A name and a place. I don't know if it's enough, but it's a start."
I take the paper, my heart racing as I smooth it out.
The name is written in a hasty, almost illegible scrawl—Lord Ash.
The place is a tavern called The Rusty Arrow, located on the outskirts of the kingdom.
My mind races with questions, but before I can ask, Sider stands up.
"I have to go," he says, his voice urgent. "It's not safe for me to be seen with you. But I'll leave you this. It might help."
                                                  ────── 〔✿〕──────
The archery tournament dawns, a crisp, clear day that seems to mock the turmoil in my heart.
The villagers gather in the town square, their faces a mix of excitement and trepidation.
I'm one of the last to arrive, the weight of the night's revelation heavy on my shoulders.
As I take my place at the starting line, I can't help but scan the crowd for any sign of Sonne.
But he's nowhere to be found.
The first two targets are easy, their destruction almost cathartic.
But as the rounds go on, my thoughts keep drifting back to the note.
To the name and the place that could hold the answers I've been searching for.
I force myself to focus, my bow an extension of my arm, my eyes locked on the target.

The crowd gasps as my arrows fly, each one hitting the bullseye with a satisfying thwack.
My competitors look at me with a mix of awe and fear, their own shots faltering in comparison.
The archery master nods approvingly, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.
For a moment, I allow myself to revel in the victory, the sound of the cheering crowd washing over me like a warm embrace.
But the joy is fleeting, overshadowed by the urgency of the task ahead.
As the tournament ends and the villagers disperse, I make my way back to the tavern, my mind racing.
I know what I have to do—I have to go to The Rusty Arrow and find out what Lord Ash knows.
But the journey won't be easy, and I can't do it alone.

Back in my room, I pack a small bag with supplies—food, water, and a change of clothes.
I write a quick note to my mother, telling her I'm going to stay with a friend for a couple of days.
It's a lie, but a necessary one.
I can't risk her worrying, not when she's already lost so much.
As I slip the note under her door, I can almost hear the echo of her laughter from happier times, a phantom of a life that seems so far away now.

With the moon as my guide, I sneak out of the village, the cobblestone streets cold under my feet.
I know where to find Sider—his mother's house, a place I've visited countless times for archery practice.
But when I get there, the lights are out, the door closed tight.
I knock softly, hoping not to wake anyone, and wait.
A moment later, the door opens a crack, and Sider's face appears in the sliver of light.
"What are you doing here?" he whispers, his eyes wide with surprise.
"I know you're leaving for The Rusty Arrow," I say, my voice low and urgent. "I have to come with you."
He hesitates, looking over his shoulder into the dark house.
"Please," I add, my voice shaking slightly. "I can't do this alone."
After a moment that feels like an eternity, he nods and steps aside, allowing me to enter.

The interior is as quiet as a tomb, the only sound the ticking of a clock echoing through the halls.
We move quickly, gathering what we need for the journey ahead.
Sider's mother is still asleep, but I can't help but feel a twinge of guilt for lying to her.
"It's for the best," Sider whispers, as if reading my mind. "The less people who know, the better."
I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat.
We grab our bows and a few supplies, and then we're off into the night.

The path to the outskirts of the kingdom is fraught with danger, even in the moon's soft glow.
We navigate through the dense woods, the shadows playing tricks on our eyes.
The first river we come across is wide and fast, the water glinting like a silver ribbon in the moonlight.
We have no boat, no way to cross without getting wet.
Sider looks at me, his expression grim. "We'll have to swim."
I nod, taking a deep breath to steady my nerves.
The water is cold, biting into my skin, and the current is stronger than it looks.
My muscles burn as I fight against it, the weight of my pack pulling me downstream.
But we make it, emerging on the other side, soaked and shivering.

We sit in the grass, the dew sticking to us like a second skin.
Sider rummages through his pack, pulling out a small flask.
"Here," he says, offering it to me. "It'll warm you up."
I take a sip, the fiery liquid burning a path down my throat.
For a moment, I can almost forget the chill of the river, the heaviness of the secrets we carry.
Every rustle of leaves, every hoot of an owl feels like a warning.
"You're breathing too loud," Sider whispers.
"Maybe I just need to focus on warming up instead of my breathing. Besides, if the owls are warning us, then at least they're in on the secret too." I take another sip from the flask, feeling the warmth spread through me, and glance at him. "Let’s just hope they’re not our biggest threat tonight."

We lean against a tree, the bark rough against my back, and I close my eyes, letting the whispers of the forest lull me into a fitful sleep.
The hours pass in a blur of half-formed dreams and waking nightmares.
I glance up at the moon, high in the sky, and realize how much time has passed.
We need to keep moving, but my body feels like lead, begging for rest.
I nudge him gently, and he jolts awake, his eyes wild before they focus on me.
"Sorry," he mumbles, his voice thick with sleep. "I didn't mean to fall asleep."
"It's okay," I reply, my voice softer than I intend. "We all need rest, even if it's just for a little while."

We push ourselves to our feet, the cold air biting at our wet clothes.
The journey ahead is long, and the path is fraught with uncertainty.
We walk in silence, the crunch of leaves underfoot the only sound between us.
The trees stretch tall above us, their branches entwined like a canopy, creating a natural tunnel that seems to lead to nowhere.
"Are you sure you know where your taking us?" I ask, my voice barely audible over the rustling of the leaves.
Sider nods, his eyes never leaving the path ahead. "The Rusty Arrow is a place where information is bought and sold," he says. "It's not the kind of place you just stumble upon."
"But what if we're walking into a trap?" I can't help but voice my fear.
Sider pauses for a moment, finally turning to meet my gaze. "If it’s a trap, then let’s make it a trap they’ll never forget. We’re not just stepping into the unknown; we’re stepping in with purpose. Remember, knowledge is our weapon, and we’ll turn the tables if we need to." He takes a deep breath, the tension easing in his shoulders. "Besides, nothing worth finding comes without a little risk.

The moon climbs higher in the sky, casting eerie shadows that dance along the path.
I tighten my grip on my bow, feeling the comforting weight of it in my hand.
Everything seems to be watching us, waiting for us to make a wrong move.
"Is that the Rusty arrow?" I whisper, pointing to a dim light flickering in the distance.
Sider nods, his eyes narrowed. "We're almost there."
"Why are your eyes narrowed? You look worried."
"Its because we arrived earlier than expected. We need to be careful."

As we get closer, the tavern comes into view, a ramshackle building that seems to lean into the shadows.
The light from the windows spills out onto the ground, painting the surrounding area in a warm, welcoming glow.
But the air feels charged with tension, like the calm before a storm.
"Remember," Sider says, his voice low. "Stick to the plan. We're just here for information."
"But what if we find more than we bargained for?"
"Then we'll deal with it," he says firmly. "But let's not get ahead of ourselves."

We push open the creaky door, the smell of ale and roasting meat hitting us like a wall.
The tavern is crowded, filled with patrons of all shapes and sizes, their conversations a cacophony of whispers and shouts.
Our eyes scan the room, searching for the person we've come to find.
"Lord Ash," I murmur, my heart racing. "Where could he be?"
Sider's gaze lingers on a shadowy corner, where a figure sits alone, shrouded in darkness.
"That's him," he says, nodding towards the corner. "But we can't just march over there and demand answers."
"So what's the plan?"
"We'll play it cool, blend in. I'll start a game of darts, you keep an eye on him."

I nod, trying to still the tremble in my hands as I take a seat at the bar.
The bartender, a burly man with a beard as thick as a fur coat, looks us up and down.
"What'll you have?" he asks, his voice gruff.
"Bitterwood tea," Sider says, leaning casually against the counter.
The bartender raises an eyebrow, looking at me.
"Make it two," I add, hoping my voice doesn't betray my nerves.
As the tea is poured, I feel the eyes of the patrons on us, their curiosity a palpable force.
They know we're not from around here, and they're wondering what two young archers are doing in a place like this.

The tea is hot and bitter, the smell of the herbs wafting up to tickle my nose.
I sip it cautiously, the warmth spreading through me, a stark contrast to the cold fear in my belly.
Lord Ash sits in the corner, his face obscured by the shadows, but I can feel his gaze on us.
Every sip of the tea feels like a countdown to our confrontation.
Sider's hand lands gently on my shoulder, a silent reminder to stay calm.
The tavern is alive with the sounds of laughter, clinking glasses, and the occasional bark of a dog.
A fire crackles in the hearth, casting flickering light across the room.
I watch as Sider makes his way to the darts, his movements fluid and confident, a stark contrast to the knot of anxiety in my stomach.
As he plays, he's not just throwing darts; he's weaving a story with every toss.
A tale of two travelers seeking refuge from the night's chill, looking for a friendly game and perhaps some gossip.
The patrons around him lean in, eager for a break from their own secrets.
And all the while, I keep my eyes on Lord Ash, who watches us from the shadows, his interest piqued.

Slowly, oh so slowly, he rises from his seat, his silhouette cutting through the candlelight like a knife.
The floorboards groan under his weight as he approaches, each step echoing in the tense silence that has fallen.
I can see the glint of his eyes now, cold and calculating, and my grip tightens on the hilt of my knife, hidden beneath the folds of my cloak.
Sider's hand moves to the small of his back, his own weapon at the ready.
The air is thick with anticipation, the whispers of the tavern fading into the background.
It's just the three of us now, a silent dance of predators and prey.
                                                        Chapter 21
Lord Ash stops in front of us, his smile wide and manic. "Ah, the famous archers," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "What brings you to my humble abode?"
I stand, pushing my chair back with a screech that echoes through the room. "We're looking for answers," I say, my voice steady despite the tremor in my chest.
Sider nods, his eyes never leaving Lord Ash. "We've heard you're a man who knows things," he says, his tone casual. "We're willing to pay for what we need to know."
"Ah, I see. How about you introduce yourselves first? Follow me."

He leads us to a back room, the air thick with the scent of old books.
The walls are lined with shelves, the books spilling over onto the floor.
In the center of the room, a single candle flickers on a desk, casting jittery shadows that dance across Lord Ash's face.
He sits down, his movements erratic, his eyes never leaving us.
"I've been waiting for you," he says, his voice a crazed whisper. "The prophecy spoke of your coming."
My heart skips a beat. "What do you know about the prophecy?"
"Oh, everything," he cackles. "Everything and more. But why should I tell you anything?"
Sider leans forward, his eyes intense. "Because if you don't, we'll leave, and you'll never get what you want."
Lord Ash's smile falters, his eyes narrowing. "And what makes you think I want anything from you?"
"Because everyone wants something," I reply. "Even if it's just the thrill of knowing a secret."
He laughs. " Would you like a cup of tea?"
I nod, trying to keep my nerves in check. Sider stays silent, his hand still on his weapon.
The tea is served in chipped cups that look like they've seen better days.
I bring the cup to my lips, the steam warming my face.
It's a strange comfort, a reminder of the world outside of this twisted game we're playing.
"Now, what do you want to know?" Lord Ash asks, his tone mockingly sweet.
"Start with Lady Elara," I demand, my voice firm. "What do you know about her death?"
He takes a sip of his tea, his eyes gleaming. "More than you, I'd wager. But what will you give me in return?"
"Information," Sider says, his voice low. "We know things too."
"Oh, do tell," Lord Ash leans in, his eyes lighting up.
"Information, huh?" I reply, a smirk playing at the corners of my lips. "Let’s just say we’re not the only ones with secrets to share. But unlike you, we don’t drink from chipped cups while hiding behind riddles. We deal in truths, and I can promise you, the truth always has a way of coming back to haunt those who think they hold all the cards."
The room goes still, the only sound the crackling of the fire.
Lord Ash's smile fades, his eyes flicking between us, trying to read our bluff.
But we're not bluffing. We're here for answers, and we're not leaving without them.
"Very well," he says, setting his cup down. "Lady Elara was killed because she knew too much. She was a threat to the balance of power in the kingdom."
My heart races. "And what does that have to do with us?"
He leans back in his chair, his hands steepled in front of him. "You see, the prophecy speaks of two sisters, born of the same mother, destined to bring about change. One with the power to manipulate the very fabric of the elements, the other to wield them as weapons."
"But my sister," I choke out. "What happened to her?"
"I would tell you, except you didn't pay me yet."
Sider's hand clenches into a fist. "We're not playing games," he shouts.
"Oh, but we are," Lord Ash says, his smile twisted. "You want to know what happened to your sister? You want to clear your name? It'll cost you more than you know."
I straighten up, locking eyes with Lord Ash, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside. "If you think you can barter with our lives as if they're mere trinkets, you underestimate our resolve. You may hold the knowledge, but remember—every prophecy has its twists. Perhaps it’s time you learned that playing games with us could be your biggest mistake."
Lord Ash starts laughing again. "Funny girl. I'll be right back."
I lean towards Sider. "He needs help. How is he supposed to help us if he doesn't even know how to deal with his self-indulgence?"
Sider nods, his jaw set. "We're not leaving without answers."
"We probably wouldn't even get answers if he knew how to deal," I mummer to myself.

The door slams shut behind him, leaving us in the flickering candlelight.
We exchange a look, both of us wondering what we've gotten ourselves into.
"What now?" I ask, setting down my tea.
"We wait," Sider says, his eyes never leaving the door. "And we prepare for whatever comes next."
The wait feels like an eternity, each tick of the clock echoing through the room like a death knell.
When Lord Ash returns, he's holding a letter, sealed with wax.
He tosses it onto the table between us.
I open it. "Leave? You want us to leave?"
Lord Ash smiles. "Its an easy thing to do."
I look up from the letter, meeting his gaze with a defiant smirk. "Easy for you to say, Lord Ash. But some of us aren't so easily intimidated. If you think tossing a piece of parchment will scare us away, you clearly underestimate our resolve."

Sider's hand tightens on his bow, his knuckles white. "You're playing a dangerous game."
Lord Ash laughs, his eyes glinting in the candlelight. "You have no idea."
He leans forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Your sister, she was special. But so are you, Blossom."
"My sister died when she was six. What do you know about her?"
The room seems to close in around us, the shadows stretching like tendrils of doubt.
"More than you ever will," Lord Ash says, his smile fading. "But perhaps you're not as innocent as you seem."
"You think you know her, Ash? You don’t know the first thing about Blossom or the strength she carries. Just because you hide behind your games and shadows doesn’t mean you can toy with her past. She’s faced more than you can imagine, and she’s not about to let you rewrite her story. So if you have something to say, say it to her face, or you can keep your twisted truths to yourself." Sider’s voice is a warning, a promise of retribution if he dares to cross us.
"How about you save yourselves by leaving?" Lord Ash suggests, his eyes flicking between us. 
He pushes us out slamming the door on us.

We stand in the tavern, the patrons watching us with a mix of curiosity and fear.
"Well, that was productive," I murmur, trying to keep the tremble out of my voice.
Sider nods. "We're not done yet."
We make our way back to the bar, the silence of our retreat deafening.
The bartender watches us, his expression unreadable.
"Two more Bitterwood teas," Sider says, his voice steady.
As we wait, I can't help but feel like we're being herded back into the fold.
The tavern seems smaller, the air heavier with every passing moment.
"We can't just leave," I say, my eyes scanning the room. "We have to find a way to get the truth."
Sider nods, his gaze intense. "We'll find another way."

The teas are placed in front of us, the bartender's hands shaking slightly.
"Thank you," I murmur, taking a sip.
"We need to get closer to him," Sider says, his voice low. "Find his weakness."
"And how do we do that?"
"We're archers," he says with a small smile. "We shoot straight to the heart of the matter."
                                           ────── 〔✿〕──────
We spend the night in a small, cramped hotel room, the only comfort being the warmth of the fireplace.
The walls are paper-thin, and every snore and creak of the floorboards echoes through the night.
The bed is hard, but it's better than the cold ground outside.
I lay there, staring at the ceiling, my mind racing with questions about my sister, the prophecy, and the mysterious Lord Ash.
Sider is a silent form from the bed beside me beside me, his breathing steady and calm.
I envy his ability to sleep so easily in the face of such uncertainty.
But even as my eyes grow heavy, sleep eludes me, the candle's flame flickering in the corner like a taunting specter.
                                                      
The next morning, we're up before dawn, the promise of answers urging us forward.
We pack our things and head back to the tavern, hoping to catch Lord Ash before he leaves.
The air is crisp, the scent of dew clinging to the leaves like a sweet perfume.
The tavern is quiet, the patrons of the night before nowhere to be seen.
The bartender nods at us as we enter, his expression more wary than before.
"Has Lord Ash left?" Sider asks, his voice firm.
The bartender nods.
"You know what? I don't care anymore. We could do better on our own."

We step out into the early light, the horizon a wash of pinks and oranges.
The sunrise is beautiful, a stark contrast to the ugliness we've uncovered.
Sider's eyes are on the horizon, his thoughts a mile away.
"What's next?" I ask, my voice breaking the silence.
"We have to go back home."

The journey back is fraught with tension, our mission incomplete.
We walk in silence, our footsteps echoing through the deserted streets.
The tavern's warmth is replaced by the cold grip of reality, the sun's rays offering no comfort.
As we approach the village, the sight of its familiar rooftops brings a strange mix of relief and dread.
We've been gone less than a day, but it feels like an eternity.

Sider stops in front of his house, his hand lingering on the door handle. Then he turns to leave.
"Aren't you going in?" I ask, confused.
He shakes his head. "I need to check on something first."
I nod, understanding that sometimes you need to face your fears alone.

I enter my own house, the warmth enveloping me like a comforting embrace.
Mother is asleep, her breathing rhythmic and steady.
I don't disturb her, instead heading to the kitchen to make some breakfast.
The smell of baking bread fills the air, the comforting scent of home.
As I stir the porridge, my thoughts drift back to the tavern, to Lord Ash and his cryptic words.

I set the table, my movements mechanical, lost in the labyrinth of what-ifs and maybes.
The silence is a deafening reminder of what we've left unsaid and undone.
The porridge simmers on the stove, a metaphor for the boiling pot of secrets and lies we've stepped into.
Mother stirs, her eyes opening to meet mine. She sits up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "You're back," she says, her voice thick with relief.
"For now," I reply, my voice laced with a weariness that belies my age.

After breakfast, I head to the village library, a place that's always held a quiet comfort for me.
The books are my friends, whispering secrets that the villagers dare not speak aloud.
As I scan the dusty shelves, my eyes fall upon a tome titled "The History of the Kingdom."
I pull it down, the weight of it feeling like the burden of the world.
Flipping through the pages, I find a section on the Trails, the same trials I'd recently completed.
My heart skips a beat when I read about a jar rumored to hold the truth about one's destiny, kept in the castle's highest tower.
Could this be the key to unlocking the mystery of Lady Elara's death and my sister's disappearance?

I race to Sider's house, the book clutched to my chest like a treasure map.
When I arrive, he's outside, sharpening his arrows with a focused intensity that makes me pause.
"Sider," I call out, trying to catch my breath. "I've found something."
He looks up, his eyes questioning.
"There's a jar in the castle," I say, panting. "It's supposed to tell the truth about someone's destiny. We have to get it."
He nods, understanding the gravity of the situation. "But we can't just walk in there. We'll have to sneak in."
The plan forms in my mind, a daring adventure that could either clear our names or lead to our downfall.
We spend the day preparing, gathering supplies and studying the layout of the castle.
The sun dips below the horizon, casting long shadows across the village.
As darkness falls, we set out, our hearts pounding with a mix of excitement and fear.
The castle looms before us, its turrets piercing the night sky like teeth in a monstrous grin.

We sneak through the gardens, the scent of blooming flowers masking our presence.
The moon is a sliver in the sky, offering just enough light to navigate the twisting paths.
Guards patrol the perimeter, their footsteps a rhythmic warning that we're not alone.
We stay low, sticking to the shadows, our breaths shallow and quick.
As we near the castle walls, Sider pulls out a set of lockpicks, a tool I never knew he possessed.
With a silent nod, he sets to work on the lock of a side door, his movements swift and precise.
The lock clicks open, and we slip inside, our hearts racing like wild horses.

We find the jar in the highest tower, its glass surface gleaming in the candlelight.
Inside, it seems to hold a swirling maelstrom of light and color, a miniature universe of secrets.
With trembling hands, I reach for it, the anticipation making me feel like I might shatter it.
But as I touch the cool glass, something unexpected happens—we both tumble into the jar, swallowed by the whirlwind of destiny.

We're tiny now, shrunk to the size of the jar's contents, and we're falling through a world of swirling colors and images.
Sider's eyes are wide with shock, and for a moment, all we can do is cling to each other as we plummet through this mystical space.
The images we pass are snippets of lives, moments frozen in time, whispers of truths and lies.

When we finally land, we're in a vast chamber, the walls stretching upward, far beyond my line of sight.
Giant bookshelves tower over us, the spines of their books like a fortress, and the floor is a mosaic of stars and constellations.
The jar is massive now, a colossal structure that we could never have hoped to lift in our regular size.
I press my face against the jar's surface, the cold glass a stark contrast to the warmth of my skin.
"Rose will come for you," I murmur to the reflection of Sider's wide eyes.
"Oh come 'on Blossom. How will Rose find us in here?"
"Just wait." I reply with a grin.

And sure enough, moments later, the chamber's door creaks open, and in strides Rose, her eyes scanning the room with a fierce determination.
"Told you." I say smirking at Sider.
Her gaze lands on us, and she gasps, dropping to her knees.
"What have you done?" she whispers, her voice filled with horror.

With trembling hands, she reaches into the jar, her eyes never leaving ours.
Her touch is warm, a beacon in this cold, unfeeling place.
As she lifts Sider out, he expands before my eyes, his form growing until he's once again the size of a normal human.
The jar's magic releases him with a gentle pop, and he stands tall beside her, his eyes wide with wonder.
"Come on Rose lets go." Sider say's without looking at me. 
With a smirk, I reply, “Oh, don’t worry, Sider. I wouldn’t dream of interrupting your grand re-entry into the world. Just remember, the warmth you feel isn’t just her touch; it’s the glow of your own missed opportunities. Let’s see if you can keep up!”
Ignoring his slack-jawed expression, I focus on the jar.
The lid is heavier than I expect, but I manage to pry it open with a grunt.
With a final look back at the whirlwind of destiny, I crawl out, feeling the warmth of the room embrace me like a mother's hug.
That stupid boy. Thinks he can get away with everything.
"What have you two been up to?" she demands, her voice echoing off the towering bookshelves.
With a playful glint in my eye, I retort, “Oh, just contemplating the mysteries of the universe." I flash a grin, fully aware of the storm brewing behind his slack-jawed gaze.
"Well, I got to go." I say, turning away from them both.
The anger fuels my steps as I stride out of the castle, the night air cold and refreshing on my face.

The village is asleep, the moon casting long shadows across the cobblestone streets.
My boots echo in the silence, each step a silent declaration of my anger and determination.
I don't know what Sider's problem is, but I'm tired of playing his games.
The door to my house creaks open, and I slip inside, trying not to wake Mother.
But she's waiting up for me, her eyes filled with worry.
"What happened?" she asks, her voice a soft whisper in the darkness.
"Nothing," I reply, my voice thick with unshed tears. "We just had a... disagreement."
Her arms wrap around me, offering comfort and understanding without judgment.
For a moment, I let myself be held, letting the warmth of her embrace soothe my bruised ego.
But somethings off. I didn't tell her about where I was going tonight.
Pulling away, I look at her, my eyes searching hers. "How did you know we were in trouble?"
Her smile is sad, her eyes knowing. "A mother's intuition," she says gently.
But I can see the truth in her gaze, the hint of something deeper.
The house feels colder, the shadows more oppressive.
                                                           Chapter 22
Tap, tap, tap.
The noise jolts me awake, my heart racing.
I sit up in bed, the candle by my window flickering.
Tap, tap, tap.
It's coming from outside, insistent and urgent.
I pull the curtains aside to reveal a girl I don't recognize, her eyes wide with fear.
"Blossom," she whispers, her voice trembling. "You have to come quickly. There are papers about you everywhere."
I fumble for my clothes, my mind racing with questions.
What could have happened in the short time I was gone?

The village is a flurry of activity, the air thick with tension and accusation.
Pamphlets with my face on them litter the ground, the words "Liar" and "Murderer" screaming up at me from the dirt.
My stomach turns as I realize the extent of the damage done.
Someone has painted me as the villain in this twisted play.
Sider is nowhere to be seen, and my mother's eyes are filled with a mix of fear and anger.
"What have you done?" she hisses, her voice barely above a whisper.
“I haven’t done anything, Mom! You have to believe me!” I snap back, my voice steadier than the chaos swirling around us. “These accusations—they’re lies, and I’m going to prove it. I’m not the villain in this story; someone else is pulling the strings."
“Lies, huh? Then why does it feel like the truth is hiding behind every word you say? You may not see yourself as the villain, but the evidence tells a different story. Prove me wrong—show me who really is pulling the strings, or you might just find that you’re the one tangled in their web.”

Her words cut deep, but I know she's hurt and scared.
I leave the house, the early morning dew soaking my boots as I march towards the center of the village.
The town square is packed, villagers whispering and pointing, their eyes narrowed with suspicion.
The council is waiting for me, their faces a tableau of anger and disappointment.
I stand before them, the weight of their accusations heavy on my shoulders.
"You will explain yourself," the head of the council says, his voice a thunderclap in the silence.
“I will explain myself,” I reply, my voice rising above the murmur of the crowd. “But let’s not forget that a good story often has a hidden villain—someone who revels in chaos while staying shrouded in shadows. You think you know the truth, but the real deceit lies in your willingness to accept a narrative without question. Look around you! The real enemy isn’t me; it’s the fear that has blinded you all. If you want answers, then let’s dig deeper together."

The crowd murmurs, the tension palpable as the council members exchange glances.
“Very well,” the head of the council says, his eyes boring into me. “But know this, if we find you guilty of even one lie, the consequences will be severe."
The crowd nods in agreement, their eyes burning into me like a thousand suns.
I meet his gaze steady, a hint of a smirk playing on my lips. “Severe consequences, you say? Well, let’s hope your truths are as strong as your threats. Because I’ve got nothing but honesty backing me up, and if this council is as wise as they claim, they’ll recognize the difference between a lie and a challenge.”
“Your confidence is admirable, but remember that honesty alone doesn’t shield you from the truth of your actions, Miss Blossom.” His voice is like a whip crack, sharp and stinging.
"Ah, but isn't it funny how confidence can often reveal truths that denial tries to hide? I may not need a shield, especially when I stand proudly in my own reality, while you seem to prefer the comfort of your own judgments."
"Alright Blossom, enough is enough. Let's cut to the chase."
"Then hurry, I got other things to do." I say.

The questioning begins, each question a dagger thrown at my character, my truth.
I dodge and parry, my words a dance of honesty and wit.
The villagers watch, their expressions a mix of anger and curiosity.
Some of them, I know, have always doubted me, whispered about me behind my back.
But as the interrogation goes on, I see doubt creeping into their eyes.
Maybe, just maybe, they're starting to realize that there's more to this story than what they've been told.

The council presents a paper, crumpled and stained, with my name on it.
They claim it's proof of my guilt, but as I unfold it, I see it's nothing but a forgery.
The handwriting is crude, not the elegant script of the castle's scribes.
The accusations are wild, filled with twists and turns that don't match the reality of my life.
"This isn't enough," I say, my voice firm. "You need more than a scrap of paper to convict me."
The head of the council sighs, his face etched with lines of frustration.
"Blossom, we know you've been seen with him. Your friendship with Sider is no secret."
"And what of it?" I ask, my chin raised. "Does being friends with someone make me guilty by association?"
"He's been spotted with the very people we suspect of Lady Elara's murder," he says, his eyes boring into mine.
"Sider is not a killer," I reply, my voice steady. "He's been with me, helping me uncover the truth."
"Then why did he leave the tavern with Lord Ash?" a voice calls from the crowd.
"Maybe he was just trying to avoid the company of those who can't tell a rumor from the truth. You should consider joining him next time!"
The murmurs grow louder, the tension in the air thickening like a storm cloud.
Mother's eyes are on me, a silent plea for caution.
But I can't help the fire that burns in my belly.
The council's accusations are a smokescreen, a way to distract from the real culprits.
"You're grasping at straws," I say, my voice cutting through the noise. "You want a villain, so you've painted me as one without evidence. Well, I'm not going to stand here and let you slander my name."
The council members exchange looks, unsure of how to proceed.
"Very well," the head of the council says finally. "We'll give you a chance to prove your innocence. But know that the burden of proof is heavy, and we expect nothing but the truth."
"I've got nothing but the truth," I reply, my voice clear and strong. "And I'll make sure it's as bright as day."
They nod, and the crowd begins to disperse.
Mother pulls me aside, her grip on my arm firm.
"Blossom, you need to be careful. This isn't a game."
"Don't worry Mom. If life were a game, I’d be winning by now!"
"You should still be careful." she says, her voice stern. "There are those who won't hesitate to use any means necessary to protect their secrets."
"Of course."

The days that follow are a blur of activity.
I spend my time gathering information, speaking to those who knew Lady Elara, and piecing together the puzzle of her last days.
Sider is a ghost, appearing only briefly to exchange information and supplies.

But it's Sonne who lingers in my thoughts, his gentle touch and kind eyes a stark contrast to the harsh world around me.
I find myself drawn to the meadow where we swung together, the place where I felt the warmth of friendship after so much coldness.
I sit on the swing, the creak of the ropes a comforting reminder of happier times.
I think about the way he looked at me that night, the way he offered his hand and his friendship without hesitation.
The only problem is that he doesn't trust me anymore with all the things going on.
And who can blame him?
                                              ────── 〔✿〕──────
I couldn't sleep at night, the image of the jar burning in my mind like a candle flame.
The castle loomed in the distance, a silent sentinel holding the answers I so desperately needed.
The walls that had once felt so impenetrable now called to me like a siren's song.
I decided to go back, alone this time, to find the jar and uncover the truth it held.
But I was determined, driven by a need to clear my name and find the truth about my sister and Ocean.

The castle was eerily quiet, the only sound the echo of my own footsteps on the cold stone floors.
I moved through the corridors like a ghost, my heart racing with every shadow that flickered in the torchlight.
The guards were fewer this time, but the ones I encountered eyed me with suspicion, their hands on their swords.
I had to be quick, precise, and most of all, silent.

The tower loomed above me, the same one where we had found the jar.
My hand trembled as I touched the door, the wood cool and unforgiving under my fingertips.
I pushed it open, the creak sounding like a scream in the stillness.
The chamber was just as we had left it, the jar still resting on the pedestal, its contents swirling with secrets.
But there was something else here, something new—a sense of foreboding that wrapped around me like a cloak.

I approached the jar, my voice shaking. "What happened to my sister?" I whispered, my breath fogging the glass.
The maelstrom inside stilled, and a single, clear voice echoed through the room. "Read the journal," it said, the words as cold as the stone beneath my feet.
"I already did!"
"Then read it again," the jar insisted, its tone unyielding.
"How many times do I have to read it before you give me a straight answer?!" I shouted in frustration, the echo bouncing off the bookshelves.
The jar's voice remained steady, a hint of amusement threading through its coldness. "As many times as it takes for you to understand. Sometimes clarity hides in the details, and it seems you're overlooking the obvious."
"Overlooking the obvious? Maybe I just need a jar that can speak plainly instead of playing mind games. If I wanted riddles, I would have used a puzzle book, not a jar!"
“Patience, dear friend. Every good answer takes time to unfold.”
I slump to the ground a stream of tears slipping down my face.
The chamber felt smaller, the air heavier with each sob that tore from my chest.
I pulled out the journal from my satchel. The words blurred together as I tried to focus, my mind racing with accusations and doubt.
But as I read, something shifted, a piece of the puzzle clicking into place.
My sister had mentioned a "gift" in her entries, something I had been born with, something that made me special. And could my mother want my gift?
I felt a chill run down my spine as I thought of the way she had been looking at me lately.
The warmth of the room seemed to drain away, leaving me with a cold, hard truth.
Could she have had something to do with all of this?
The thought was like a knife, cutting through the bond we had so painfully rebuilt.
But I couldn’t ignore it. For the sake of the kingdom, for the sake of the truth, I had to know.
I stood up, wiping my tears away. "I'll be back," I murmured to the jar, "and next time, I'll be ready for whatever you have to say."
                                              ────── 〔✿〕──────
I leave for school the next morning. Mother comes to say goodbye but it doesn't feel like how it used to.
Her eyes searched mine, and I could see the fear in them.
I look at her differently now, wondering if she’s hiding something from me.
"Good morning," she says, her voice a forced cheerfulness that feels like a lie on my tongue.
"Morning," I reply, my voice cooler than I intended.
She looks at me, a flicker of hurt crossing her face, but she says nothing more.

In healing class, we learn about herbs with names so long and twisted.
Herbologist Flaura writes them on the board with a flourish, her hand never pausing as she rattles off their properties and uses.
"Now, class," she says, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "The real magic is in how they combine. For instance, take a pinch of Luminara Root and mix it with a dash of Whispering Willow Leaf. It'll heal even the deepest of wounds."
Sider snickers beside me, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Good to know," he murmurs.
We spend the class mixing and matching herbs, creating potions that bubble and steam, filling the room with a heady aroma that reminds me of home.

Flaura's voice drones on, but I can't focus. My thoughts are elsewhere—with the jar, the prophecy, and the secrets that threaten to tear apart everything I hold dear.
"Blossom!" A girl elbows me. "You're up."
I blink, realizing the class is staring at me. I stand, and approach the front.
"Ah, yes," Flaura says, her eyes alight with challenge. "Our star pupil. Show us what you can do."
I take a deep breath and reach for the ingredients, my hands shaking slightly.
The herbs whisper to me, their names rolling off my tongue like a forgotten lullaby—Aetheric Thistle, Zephyr's Sigh, Dragon's Tear.
The potion I create is a deep blue, the color of the ocean at midnight.
It's supposed to heal, but all I can think about is the darkness it represents.

After class, I catch up to Sider, grabbing his arm and pulling him aside.
"Next time you're feeling mischievous, Sider, remember, even the darkest potions need a little light to shine. Because that day you just left me at the tower, and I was the one to go on the journey with you!"

He looks at me with a mix of confusion and irritation, but I don't give him a chance to respond.
"That day when I was talking with the council, there had been rumors about you, and I had stood up for you! But now, with everything that’s happened, I don’t know if I can trust you, and I honestly never did. So, tell me now, Sider, what's going on? What aren't you telling me?"
He sighs, his eyes dropping to the ground. "I'm sorry, Blossom. I never meant to get you into this mess."
"Mess? This isn't just a mess, Sider—it's a conspiracy!"
Sider narrows his eyes, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face. "A conspiracy? Really, Blossom? Maybe if you spent less time chasing shadows and more time focusing on what’s in front of you, you’d realize that not everything revolves around your little fantasy. Sometimes, the truth is just a lot less dramatic than you want it to be."
I raise an eyebrow. "Oh, Sider, bless your heart. But if I wanted a dose of reality, I’d just look at your track record. You know, it’s funny how you always manage to deflect when things get tough. Maybe it’s time to stop hiding behind your excuses and face the facts. This isn’t a fantasy, it’s our lives at stake. So while you’re busy downplaying the situation, I’ll be out here uncovering the truth—how about you join me for once instead of playing the role of the misunderstood rogue?”

The silence between us is deafening, the only sound the distant chatter of students.
Finally, he looks up, his eyes meeting mine with a fierce determination. "Alright, Blossom. You win. Is that what you want to hear me say?"
“Winning isn’t my goal here, Sider. It’s about clarity and trust—two things you seem to have an aversion to. I don’t need a victory lap, I need a partner in this."
Sider smirks slightly, a hint of defiance in his voice. "Clarity and trust? Good luck with that, Blossom. I’ll be over here, dealing with reality while you chase your shadows."
He turns and walks away, his boots echoing down the hall.
I want to call after him, to demand he explain himself, but I know it would be pointless.
The wall between us is as solid as the castle stones.
                                              ────── 〔✿〕──────
I make my way home, lost in thought, the weight of the day’s events pressing down on me like a storm cloud.
As I turn the corner, I see Rose and a group of my classmates.
"Look the murder!" Someone yells.
With a smirk, I pull the knife from my pocket and say, “Looks like you all just walked into a thunderstorm. Better run while you can!”

They scatter, leaving Rose standing there, a smug look on her face.
“You think you’re so clever, don’t you?” she says, crossing her arms.
“I think I’m smarter than to believe everything I hear. You’re just upset because you’re not the center of attention anymore.”
Her cheeks flush, and she takes a step toward me. “You have no idea what you’re getting into. You’re playing a game you can’t win.”
“Oh, I think I know exactly what I’m doing, Rose. And if you’re smart, you’ll stay out of my way.”